Jesus got invited to a dinner party at the home of one of the high muckety-mucks. But the invitation was not about kicking back, having a glass of wine and shooting the breeze with his homies. St. Luke tells us that he was invited in order to be checked out. “The people there were observing him carefully.” They wanted to know what to make of this Jesus who came with the authority of God. Don’t we do the same things at times, check out God? We try to figure how to make sense out of God who is good and gracious and yet created a world filled with war and cancer and racism and poverty and birth defects and refugees and homelessness and Alzheimer’s and plain old death. I’m reminder of a scene from the book by Zora Neale Hurston. A big storm is coming, a hurricane, and the people are huddled together in their flimsy shacks. She writes: “It is so easy to be hopeful in the daytime when you can see the things you wish on. But it was night, it stayed night . . . They sat in company with the others in other shanties, their eyes straining against cruel walls… They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God.” We too watch God – a wee bit wary of what God is up to when things aren’t going well.
The people were not only looking at Jesus – he was also looking at them. Jesus noticed “how they were choosing the places of honor at the table.” He didn’t like what he saw. Looking out for number one, bucking for bars, climbing the corporate ladder, doing something for me no matter who I have to step on to get there – that kind of behavior was not what Jesus was all about. Instead he urged is listeners to “go and take the lowest place.” This was not the product of an exaggerated sense of humility – oh, poor, pitiful me. Rather, it reflects the very human reality that self-praise stinks. You always wonder about people who have to announce how great they are – modern politicians who will go unnamed included. Jesus provides some good advice on the human level – let someone else recognize you and offer you kudos.
But of course, Jesus was not in the good advice business like some first century Dear Abby. Jesus is the savior of the world with the most important message the world would ever hear. The second half of the parable as he tells it provides the key to moving beyond human advice and into divine practice. “When you hold a banquet, invited the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind.” Our Lord is teaching us something very basic in providing that image. Against our normal temptation to divide the world into the ins and the outs, the ups and the downs, Jesus tells us that we’re all in this together. There isn’t anyone out there who isn’t valuable, a child of God, precious in the sight of the Lord. We need to extend a hand of care and concern to all God’s children since we are all members of the family of God. Think how many of the stories and fairy tales develop the theme that the true identity is hidden. The prince and the pauper – the one who seemed the pauper was meant to be prince. Cinderella is made for glass slippers and kingly ball rooms. The ugly duckling is in fact a regal swan. And the stories of the saints abound in similar switches – St. Francis in kissing the leper and St. Martin in sharing his cloak were actually dealing with Jesus. Jesus tells us to invite the poor, crippled and blind to the table because in doing so, we are including him who is our elder brother. Y’all come now, y’here.
The way St. Luke sets us the scene can make it seem like a staring contest: the people are observing Jesus carefully and Jesus is noticing them critically. Who will blink first? The one thing the gospels make abundantly clear, however, is that Jesus always looked with love. When your mother gives you that you-better-get-your-hand-out-of-the-cookie-jar-before-I-give-you-the-slap-of-salvation look there is lots of love involved. Just so with Jesus: even when he is fussing at people, it is because he loves them. He invites us to share in true happiness by living his life. All of which serves as an introduction to a lesson about prayer. The epistle reminds us that when we are looking at God we should not imagine “blazing fire, gloomy darkness and storm and a trumpet blast.” Rather, we approach Jesus who does everything for us, who died so that we may live. There is no need to be wary of God as some august mystery too far beyond us for any real connection. We can make an instant connection because Jesus is like us in all things but sin. St. Teresa of Avila took this theological reality and made it into a simple prayer style. She suggested praying in this manner: “Just remain quietly with Jesus, looking at him with eyes of faith and love. Come to him as you are. No matter what you are feeling, you will find the Lord looking at you with understanding and love.” What prayer could be simpler! Look at Jesus with faith and Jesus will look at you with understand and love. No words, no deep thoughts, no heart-felt ecstasy – just simple presence.
Sometimes we can think of prayer as something for the experts – monks, maybe, or hermits are good at prayer. How can little old me communicate with the almighty God! I’ll just try to recite my little prayers and not try to climb the sacred mountain which is too much for the likes of me. However, prayer as St. Teresa describes it – being in the conscious presence of someone you love – seems like the most normal thing in the world. Every married couple has practice in relating in that way: Not with lofty words but just being there with one another. That’s our homework for the week. Spend some quiet time looking with faith and love at Jesus and let his understanding, loving gaze rest upon you. That is prayer of the heart that nourishes the spirit deep within. That leads us to say, now no longer I live, but Christ lives in me.