INSIDERS / OUTSIDERS

Luke 14:1,7-14

Before I took monastic vows and entered the monastery, I lived in Burbank. There was a small locally owned diner I used to go to once in a while. It was the kind of place where most of the customers were known by name. But one afternoon there was a person not known by everyone. I would learn later that his name was Carl.

    Carl was sitting in one of the tables with his backpack and it seemed as though he was carrying his whole life with him. I guess that’s true for all of us in a way. We all carry our own invisible backpacks of our life with us. He had that look of one who has been traveling under the sun for a long time. A single cup of coffee sat in front of him.

    The energy in the small diner space felt more like hostility rather than hospitality. People were casting suspicious glances in Carl’s direction as if he were some sort of bother or intrusion. He was quietly sitting in his booth and keeping to himself. Every few minutes the waitress would come by with the coffee pot and with a certain sophistication he would sip from his cup before politely offering it for refill. She would refill the cup and walk away, turning her face and rolling her eyes.   

    After a while, Carl got up from his seat and went into the bathroom. That is when people weren’t so reserved in their impoliteness. With each passing minute and Carl still in the men’s room, the mood of those working in the diner grew increasingly impatient. One of the waitresses knocked loudly on the door and called for Carl come out. A muffled response came from inside. After another moment or two, Carl appeared and quietly made his way to his seat. His dignity defied the unwarranted hostility of those around him. He was followed by the waitress who was now asking – not in any kind or respectful way – that he leave the diner. She said he was bothering the customers. My sense was that the only bother was that Carl was upsetting the comfort zone of the place because he appeared different. And he was different. Because through it all, unlike those around him, he was polite, and respectful, and dignified.

    When the waitress raised her voice because Carl apparently wasn’t moving fast enough for her, I just couldn’t take it any longer. Leaving my meal, I walked over to Carl, and asked him if he would like to join me at my table. He looked at me, sizing me up I suppose. Then, looking me squarely in the eye, he said “yes.” I looked at the waitress and said: “He’s with me.” Much to her chagrin, we moved to our booth. Carl ordered a meal and we began to talk. 

    The waitress, who had been nice enough to me before, lost her cheerful disposition as she begrudgingly served Carl his meal. She gave me a look that said: “You sure have a lot of nerve.” She was right. In the meantime, Carl was a perfect gentleman always saying, “thank you” and “please” and expressing his appreciation. He was the kindest and most respectful person in the room. I felt like I was dining with Jesus.

    I learned that Carl was from Seattle. He told me about his wife and how he just had not been able to regain his footing after her untimely death. He told me about his daughter and two grandchildren who were living in Oregon. That is where he was heading. To family.

    Afterward, I asked if I could drive him anywhere and Carl said he would love to go to the library, so we headed off. I begrudgingly left a tip for the waitress. If Carl could have so much grace, I guess I could at least try. And there were the words of Jesus ringing in my ears: “To love those who persecute you, this is the real test of love.” I added a couple more dollars to the tip.  

    Once at the library, Carl said he had something he wanted to show me. He led me to one of the computers, logged on to his email, and began showing me photographs of his daughter Ruth and his two grandchildren Chloe and Andrew. His face lit up excitement and his eyes sparkled with love and pride as he told me about his family.

    That day I learned from Carl that hospitality isn’t only about offering ourselves, it is also about allowing ourselves to be reached and touched by others. He taught me that humility is about being honest with yourself about who you are and when you hold that kind of truth for yourself, no one can define you, not even a waitress in a diner.

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Today’s teaching from Luke’s Gospel is about welcoming those who have been pushed to the margins of life. In this story, Jesus, in typical fashion, turns the tables on privilege in keeping with his consistent message that the first shall be last and the last, first. Today, he offers a parable to illustrate the point to the Pharisees and to us. Embedded in this parable is wisdom about respect, honor, and humility.

   Last week we heard the story about the woman who was bent over and healed by Jesus. Today, we hear about the invitation to the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. In both teachings, Jesus’s attention is not on the power elite or the privileged class, but instead on those who are rendered invisible by society. In both cases these invisible marginalized people were seen by Jesus. Couple this with his teaching found in Matthew 25 and we learn where we in turn will find Jesus – in the hungry, the thirsty, the immigrant and those whose only home is the streets, with the sick and dying, and those in prison.

   It is abundantly clear that this all-inclusive view not only includes but focuses on the so-called outsiders. It is God’s preferential option for the poor.  This is the banquet of the kingdom of heaven. It is the feast for the poor and the lame who struggle to bring themselves to the table. It is the feast of the blind, who grope to in the darkness for a glimmer of light. This is a feast of freedom for the children of God, and it speaks a word of hope to those imprisoned, those that are abused, and those who feel forgotten, and those who might feel as though they have been relegated to the corner table of life.

   Jesus’ proclamation is saying that nobody is beyond the grasp of the grace and love of God. There is no “outside”, there is only inside the kingdom of heaven. This heavenly banquet invites the marginalized and disenfranchised to sit in the place of honor and share with us who they are and in doing so we just might discover who we are.

   Such is the kingdom of God.

In today’s teaching, the boundaries of the chosen “insiders” are seriously threatened – in fact, they were broken down. Jesus would not let them hide behind their perceived exclusiveness. He would not let God’s love be so small. The “outsiders” were being invited in, and the “insiders” were to welcome them. If Jesus had his way, before you knew it the table at the center of the feast would be surrounded by prostitutes and beggars, criminals, widows and orphans. He goes as far as to say that these would be the first to enter the kingdom of heaven. Why would he say such a thing? Well, maybe because those we relegate to the margins as outsiders are equally loved by God, valued members of our community and further, they have something to teach us.

   Jesus is calling us to this radical idea of full-inclusion and a special concern for those who live on the margins – the so-called outsiders, and in doing so we sometimes discover the very face of God. I like how our friend Greg Boyle puts it. He says: “We should stand in awe of the message they bring us instead of sitting in judgement of how they bring it.”

   It takes more than just inviting people to find their way to the doorstep of the church. We must reach out. We cannot do this work from a distance. Doing the work of liberation means we not only reach out to those on the edge, but practice real kinship and understand that everyone’s struggle is our struggle and just as we all share one bread and one cup, we all share one hope.

   The Episcopal Church has a slogan. It’s printed on the signs that hang in front of most Episcopal parishes. It says: “The Episcopal Church Welcomes You.” If that is true for one person, it must be true for all people.

   This radical call of hospitality and solidarity as one people of God – with no person outside, only all people inside – is a vision that can be obtained through a radical view of love and acceptance of one another. It is the kind of love talked about in the Book of Hebrews that encourages us to let mutual love continue. It is a vision of love that says we are equal as one. It is a vision of a coming-home place where all people who are pushed around by life can find healing, comfort, and safety; a place where people are no longer invisible but seen and valued. It is a place where our divisions cease, and we are once again one people united in Christ.

   So, let’s move out to the edges and welcome all people to the table that sits in the center of the kingdom of God, a table that is big enough for all – and one where people have entertained angels without even knowing it.

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Brother Dennis is a monk, spiritual director, and writer. He is the co-founder of Community of Divine Love, an Episcopal monastic community located on California’s central coast and has been dedicated to kinship with those in prison since 2004. In recovery since 1998, he is rooted in Twelve Step spirituality, and has written hundreds of essays, sermons, and reflections on spiritual life and recovery. He has published two books: OBLIVION - Grave in Exile with a Monk Behind Bars (2019) and THE GOSPEL LIFE (2021)