The Lowest Place

Luke 14: 1, 7-14

The Meal, Paul Gauguin c. 1891 Public Domain

One Sunday afternoon at a Lutheran Church in Luray, VA, a southern gentlemen and dairy farmer announced to his family that the pastor would be joining them for Sunday lunch. 

Siram Huffman, my great grandfather was ecstatic to know that his invitation to the pastor and the pastor’s parents -who were visiting from out of town- had accepted the invitation. 

It was a great honor for him, and an honor he was all too excited to share with the rest of the family, which included three branches of the Huffman clan. 

In all there were eleven adults and five children, not counting the pastor and his two parents. 

Being a German Lutheran Shenendoah Valley family, I am certain everyone would have been just as honored and overjoyed, IF Siram had checked the menu first. 

But it wasn’t Siram’s task to cook Sunday lunch and when news of extra mouths to feed was shared, accommodations had to be made to ensure that everyone received a sliver of meat from the single chicken that had been cleaned and set aside, that day. 

My grandmother pulled my father and his four cousins into a side room of that farm house and informed each of them just what portions of that meager bird would be made available to them. 

The tail, the back, and the wings were allotted for the children. 

After the pastor and his parents arrived, grace was said, and the lone chicken was passed around. 

But eyes widened when the pastor’s mother ripped the back off the bird proclaiming, “The closer to the bone, the sweeter the meat!”

Heads shook when the pastor’s father broke off the tail and announced, “I like the part that gets over the fence last!”

And all hope was lost when the pastor shared that he loved the wings because he liked the part that makes the bird fly. It reminded him of angels. 

All faces were frozen with concern, except for Siram's, at how the children would react as the chicken made it’s way around the table until landing in front of my father who just stared at the chicken with contempt. 

“What’s the matter, Jimmy?” asked Siram.

The table fell into complete silence until my father advised, 

“Well, pastor’s mamma took the back, pastor’s daddy took the tail, and the pastor took the wings! 

So what am I supposed to eat!”

~

Today’s gospel is another account of Jesus’ ministry around a meal. 

It is only found in Luke’s gospel, so it’s pretty safe to assume Luke loves table fellowship, but Jesus seems to use meals as illustrations for many complicated concepts throughout his ministry. 

There is a danger in the way we interpret the gospel’s meaning for today, though, and while these are interpretations that are not necessarily harmful,  they don’t get to the heart of the matter either. 

One danger is interpreting this text as a lesson in etiquette. 

And while this isn’t a bad takeaway, there are better books out there when it comes to table manners.

They will probably even tell you which forks and spoons to use, if you choose wisely. 

The second danger is in interpreting this lesson as a mad dash for the cheap seats, as if there is some heavenly trophy for last place, or maybe even the world’s worst game of musical chairs. 

Today’s gospel says something so much more than just where we sit at a table, whether that be a table in this life or another. 

It offers us a perspective on how we respond to an invitation, an earnest request for the presence of the one who has been invited. 

It isn’t a demand that the invited be present, but a heartfelt request. 

A request that we are present at the banquet, without any specific reference to the seating. 

Consider the last time you were invited to a wedding. 

Did you ask the one inviting which seat you would receive?

Is it a matter of where you are seated, or is the important thing that you were present at all?

What is implied is the gratitude for the invitation to such a banquet at all, a gratitude that should be as heartfelt as the invitation that was extended in the first place. 

But there is another issue at the heart of this story. 

What good is an invitation when it is extended with the mere intention of scorn or humiliation? 

What if an invitation is extended for no other reason than to make us the butt of the joke?

Are we to just accept such an insult in life, much less a meal?

The Potato Eaters, Vincent van Gogh c. 1885 Public Domain

 ~

I haven’t had a lot of time since moving here, but as some of you know, one of my favorite hobbies is smoking barbecue. 

I’ve smoked barbecue for years. 

In fact, if I go out for barbecue, it is usually only to try and discover new sauces, rubs, or techniques. 

I would much rather make my own. 

But one of the things that appeals to me the most about barbecue is the history behind the meat. 

Yes, you heard me right, there is a history behind the very meat that is selected when barbecue is prepared. 

Boston butt is cut from the upper part of the front leg of a pig, literally, the shoulder. 

This makes the cut tougher than the loin or the ham, which were the most desirable cuts of swine in the revolutionary era of Virginia. 

In Boston, they found the shoulder such a difficult cut of meat, they shipped them off in barrels, called butts, to be sold off to the poor or eaten by sailors at sea, thus these cuts have come to be known as “Boston Butts”. 

Ribs, regardless of whether they are from beef or swine, are full of connective tissues that keep the muscle tissue and bone tightly woven together to protect the inner organs. 

Because these cuts were so tough, they were often discarded as trash. 

And the toughest cut of them all when it comes to meat; brisket. 

Brisket is cut from the pectoral muscles of cattle, which carry over half their own body weight there. 

This makes brisket one of the toughest cuts of muscle and connective tissues that there is, and by far the toughest cut of meat to smoke. 

What is so intriguing about these meats and the history behind them, is that all of them were either discarded as trash, sold to the poorest and lowest in society, or even given to slaves and servants because these cuts just weren't good enough for those in the places of honor.

Shall we just say that they just weren’t very “high on the hog”. 

But after those from the lowest places received these scraps from the butchers, they learned how to take these difficult cuts and turn them into a specialized cuisine that is cooked at a low heat for an extensive period of time, gently loosening the tissues and the natural oils that make these cuts flavorful and tender like no other cut can be made. 

These cuts of meat are not only found at a far higher price today in grocery stores, but this technique of cooking is now a coveted skill at competitions and restaurants throughout the country. 

It really is an art, and how the lowly have become admired for their ingenuity and wisdom. 

To have taken what was garbage and made it gourmet. 

A Southern Barbecue, Horace Bradley c. 1887 Public Domain

~

What is the difference between humiliation and humility?

Jesus implies that we should avoid disgrace in his words today, but when disgrace is offered, he seems to recommend humility?

For one, humiliation cannot be vindicated. 

It is a dishonor we commit to ourselves as much as another commits it to us, screaming out against it indignantly, despite its inescapability. 

And the harder we fight it, the more trapped in it we become. 

Humility is the acceptance of that lowly position.

But it is an acceptance of it, not a resignation to it. 

Rather than resigning to it, humility calls us to turn it towards something more glorious, turning toward something positive, like a symbol, a person, those around us, maybe even… a meal?

~

Our story, our Christian story, is one in which we cry out to the Lord in our distress, crying out into the temple, crying out into God’s ears (Psalm 18), at our wits end in distress (Psalm 107). 

The Hebrew slaves, Job, Moses, Samuel, David, even Elijah, all cry out to God. 

Not inviting God to be among us, but demanding it. 

Assuring God, the place of honor among us, the highest seat of them all. 

And so God accepts our invitation. 

An invitation to experience our pain, our suffering, and to vindicate us all in our humiliation. 

To lift us all out of our low places. 

That was our cry, that was the sound of our pleading. 

And God responds through Jesus the Christ, the Prophet, the Priest, and the rightful King. 

And we acknowledged his place among us, we acknowledged his role, proclaiming that his seat would be a place of honor. 

And lift him up into his place, we did. 

The God and King we all cried out to, was the God we lifted high, into that lowly place in humiliation for all to see. 

But it is in that image that we bizarrely find an odd hope. 

Because it is in that image we find a God like no other god. 

We worship the God who takes the low place and raises it high above any other. 

And from that exalted lowly place feeds us all, inviting all those whose scorn placed Christ there. 

A feast in which we are implored to sit and receive in faith that bread and that wine. 

We are only asked to extend that table beyond our own walls, extending the meal of hope that we not only cannot repay, but praise be to GOD, we aren’t even asked to. 

Amen

The Raising of the Cross Giulio Cesare Procaccini
c. 1615-1620 Public Domain