United Church of Santa Fe
Sunday, August 31, 2025
LUKE 14.7-14
7 Ἔλεγεν δὲ πρὸς τοὺς κεκλημένους παραβολήν, ἐπέχων πῶς τὰς πρωτοκλισίας ἐξελέγοντο, λέγων πρὸς αὐτούς,8 Ὅταν κληθῇς ὑπό τινος εἰς γάμους, μὴ κατακλιθῇς εἰς τὴν πρωτοκλισίαν, μήποτε ἐντιμότερός σου ᾖ κεκλημένος ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ,9 καὶ ἐλθὼν ὁ σὲ καὶ αὐτὸν καλέσας ἐρεῖ σοι, Δὸς τούτῳ τόπον, καὶ τότε ἄρξῃ μετὰ αἰσχύνης τὸν ἔσχατον τόπον κατέχειν.10 ἀλλ’ ὅταν κληθῇς πορευθεὶς ἀνάπεσε εἰς τὸν ἔσχατον τόπον, ἵνα ὅταν ἔλθῃ ὁ κεκληκώς σε ἐρεῖ σοι, Φίλε, προσανάβηθι ἀνώτερον· τότε ἔσται σοι δόξα ἐνώπιον πάντων τῶν συνανακειμένων σοι.11 ὅτι πᾶς ὁ ὑψῶν ἑαυτὸν ταπεινωθήσεται καὶ ὁ ταπεινῶν ἑαυτὸν ὑψωθήσεται.12 Ἔλεγεν δὲ καὶ τῷ κεκληκότι αὐτόν, Ὅταν ποιῇς ἄριστον ἢ δεῖπνον, μὴ φώνει τοὺς φίλους σου μηδὲ τοὺς ἀδελφούς σου μηδὲ τοὺς συγγενεῖς σου μηδὲ γείτονας πλουσίους, μήποτε καὶ αὐτοὶ ἀντικαλέσωσίν σε καὶ γένηται ἀνταπόδομά σοι.13 ἀλλ’ ὅταν δοχὴν ποιῇς, κάλει πτωχούς, ἀναπείρους, χωλούς, τυφλούς·14 καὶ μακάριος ἔσῃ, ὅτι οὐκ ἔχουσιν ἀνταποδοῦναί σοι, ἀνταποδοθήσεται γάρ σοι ἐν τῇ ἀναστάσει τῶν δικαίων.
7 When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. 8 “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host, 9 and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. 10 But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. 11 For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
12 He said also to the one who had invited him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers and sisters or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. 13 But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. 14 And you will be blessed because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”
Have You Had Enough to Eat?
+ In nomine Domini. Amen.
Thursday was the Feast of St. Augustine. (Pronounced either: AWEgusteen or AhGUS-tin — depending on when and where you studied Church History, or in my case before I went to Seminary (AWEgusteen while I was at the University and AhGUS-tin when I entered Seminary). In any case, Thursday was the Feast Day of that great 5th Century Bishop, Theologian, and Saint of the Church who lived in what is now Algeria in North Africa.
On Thursday morning, Beverly and myself and a close friend drove to south of Albuquerque, to Isleta (not to the Casino, but to the Pueblo) for their Feast Day Celebration. Of the 19 Pueblo communities in New Mexico, I would have say that Isleta Pueblo is one of my most favourite — the St. Augustine Church is absolutely beautiful; with thick adobe walls, it is the coolest place to be on a very hot late August day. On the wall just behind the Altar are words in red calligraphy: “I Am the Bread of Life.” There are three beautiful (and I think new) “stained glass” windows high above the pews, contemporary, depicting life in the church; and, as you stand and face the “back” of the nave a large window shows their Patron, St. Augustine. Outside the church and immediately to the right of it is the Shine to St. Kateri Tekakwitha (if you are fortunate to be able to be just inside that little adobe building, you will have a shaded and lovely place to watch the “dances.” Before you and off to the left as you face the dancing in the small plaza in front of the church is the Pueblo Shine, constructed for that day, which bears the state of Augustine. In front of that structure the dancers and singers and one drummer — many people say “perform” as they attempt to describe what takes place in the dance on a Feast Day— but, what takes place is a sacred prayer.
If you go online to Facebook™ and enter the words “St. Augustine Church Isleta Pueblo” you will find a short video describing everything I have just mentioned. It is beautiful.
Some years ago, when we were there for Feast Day, after the dancers had left the plaza I followed them into the main plaza of the Pueblo, and looking down I saw the prints of the dancers feet in the sand. The dancers and singers and drummer were quite a bit ahead of me and I walked slowly over that path they had made in the sand, and as I did so, I felt incredibly light as if my feet were lifted up and up with each step as I walked across that path.
It “wondered me” as we used to say in Pennsylvania; and I walked back over those dancers footprints again — and the lifting up happened again, and again. And yes, last Thursday, I felt the same thing. That’s why I say that the dance is a sacred prayer.
In the middle of the day, a meal is served. Not “meals” in various homes to which you may be invited if you know a family at a Pueblo, but this meal is for everyone. Everyone.
A line forms quietly outside the parish hall and in the most efficient and gentle way possible you take your place in that line and once inside the building you are given a plate and utensils and a napkin and walking down the length of tables you are offered:
Beans? (yes) Chile? (yes) Red or Green? (Green) These are enchiladas, would you like one? (yes, please) Calabacitas? (corn, squash, Chile, magic herbs and spices) (yes indeed) Enchilada Casserole? (sure) How about some posole? (the woman serving looked at me with smiling and raised eyebrows; I knew she had made this herself) (absolutely) You must have apiece of Oven Bread. (thank you).
And then you look around at the lines of tables and chairs in the large parish hall and find a place. Next to us was Bernadette who was from Zia Pueblo, across a woman whose name I cannot recall, but up came Bernadette’s sister, Erlinda — and yes, they invited us to their Feast Day next year, and told us how to find their home.
“Thank you for coming!” we were told by everyone, especially by Paul whom we first met as we drove into the village. He is an artist, makes pots, and told us in a few minutes the entire history of Isleta and that long ago the Rio Grande flowed right through the center of the village but the people prayed to St. Augustine to have the river moved to the west a bit, because the river is good, but it was flooding things — and so the river moved and an “island” was formed, “Isleta” in Spanish (“little island”).
“Thank you for coming,” one person after another spoke to us. “Did you get enough to eat?”
Did you get enough to eat? Did you get enough to eat?
Some 1400 years before the people at Isleta began to live along the Rio Grande, across the globe in another land with a river and sand and people and villages, Jeshua Emmanuel (as our friend called him when we were walking outside a kibuttz near Bethlehem (Jesus) told a story, a parable [from the Greek word παραβολήν which is made of two other Greek words, of course, “παρα” (alongside) and “βαλλω” (lit. throw) — thus something (in this case a story) that is placed along something else in order to illustrate a meaning].
He had been invited to the house of an important religious leader (someone from the group of religious leaders called Pharisees). And he noticed that guests were taking “seats of honour.” So, he threw down this story, to make a point before his host and guests.
I thoroughly enjoy the way Eugene Peterson (of blessed memory) translates this part of Luke in The Message:
“When someone invites you to dinner, don’t take the place of honor. Somebody more important than you might have been invited by the host. Then he’ll come and call out in front of everybody, ‘You’re in the wrong place. The place of honor belongs to this man.’ Red-faced, you’ll have to make your way to the very last table, the only place left. “When you’re invited to dinner, go and sit at the last place. Then when the host comes he may very well say, ‘Friend, come up to the front.’ That will give the dinner guests something to talk about! What I’m saying is, If you walk around with your nose in the air, you’re going to end up flat on your face. But if you’re content to be simply yourself, you will become more than yourself.”
Now, here comes the really important part: (again, from Eugene Peterson:)
Then he turned to the host. “The next time you put on a dinner, don’t just invite your friends and family and rich neighbors, the kind of people who will return the favor. Invite some people who never get invited out, the misfits from the wrong side of the tracks. You’ll be – and experience – a blessing. They won’t be able to return the favor, but the favor will be returned – oh, how it will be returned! – at the resurrection of God’s people.”
Last evening, over dinner, the Biblical Scholar and Activist for Church and World, The Rev. Peter Sawtell [Tony’s brother]1 said to me about this very text: “Ben, it’s a dangerous story! He’s saying: Don’t invite your friends!”
Who is welcome?
Who has a place at the Table?
The answer is: Yes —
This is more than just a cute story, a nice story. If we follow Jesus, we are reminded, we have to be reminded that our guest list is printed out in the world. There is no “e-vite” for only the ones who dress nicely and can take us out to dinner the next time. This is not a narrowing experience — but a wide-open welcoming.
Thank you for coming. Did you get enough to eat?
We seem to keep forgetting this in the world: our job is not to close the gate, but keep open the border of hospitality.
Sophie had many children. She was from Mexico, a single mother, and she was very poor. She came to the church for food and help. She just showed up one day and came back again and again. She called me “Father Lear” (she told me later when she learned my full name, “I always thought you were Father Lear now what do I do?” I told her I could be Father Lear but only for her and her family.)
I baptized one of her babies, I buried one of her sons in the Odd Fellows Cemetery here in Santa Fe, many years ago. One day when she was at the church, one of our members said, “Sophie, come to Service this Sunday.” She came up to me, “Father Lear, we can’t come to Church here.” “Why not?” I asked. “Because, our clothes are not good enough.”
The member in our parish reached out to her and by whatever words she said to Sophie, the next Sunday, there they all were in one pew, surrounded by folks who not only helped them find the hymns we were singing, but came with them to Holy Communion and walked them into the Parish Hall for food and drink after the Service.
And yes, from time to time they returned. One Sunday the youngest daughter pulled at my vestments and whispered, “Father Lear, we don’t have any toilet paper at home.”
(Lutherans have a lot of toilet paper!) They left with enough rolls that you could build a fort with them, and with food and drink and more and more — which they shared (I found out later) with their neighbors.
Thank you for coming. Did you get enough to eat?
Then Sophie became very ill, and had to be hospitalized and had both of her legs amputated. She came back to the church from time-to-time in a wheelchair pushed by one of the older kids. She became part of the “flock”, as we say.
And then she disappeared. She may have gone back to Mexico, she may have died, her children dispersed, I don’t know. But for that moment, with us, she was a living parable of this story in Luke’s Gospel.
She never took me to lunch or dinner, but she hugged me with tears in her eyes. What she did not see often were the tears in my own eyes.
And as Jeshua Emmanuel said, “ — blessed in the resurrection of the righteous.”
Let us pray.
We are uncomfortable, Holy One, when you see how we want to sit in the seats of honor. We can be so proper, good, well-off — often we imagine we are superior to the poor. We are so busy completing our ‘To Do’ list each day, that we forget to do good when we have the chance.
Forgive us. Fill our emptiness with your grace and humility that we would spend our lives alongside Jesus, our Lord throwing a party for the poor, the damaged, the prisoner, the lost, the oppressed. And let us all say: Amen.
Deo Gratias (+)
The Rev. Benjamin Larzelere III
Retired
1 At a dinner, following the Memorial Service for his brother, Tony Sawtell [the day before at The United Church of Santa Fe].
Nota(ble) Be(n)e 