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"One
Sabbath ... when he went to dine at the house of a ruler who
belonged to the Pharisees ... they were watching him."
(Luke 14:1)
Have you
ever been watched while you eat? Years ago, my mother told
me that people would notice the way I ate and draw conclusions
about me ... and about the people who raised me. To some extent,
she was right.
Much is
revealed by the way we eat. I know a man whose corporate responsibility
includes selecting candidates, from among those newly hired,
for his company's executive training program. He is the one
who has to figure out which of the fast-trackers can cut the
mustard. So he holds interviews, gives tests, reads letters
of recommendation, and reviews transcripts ... all the traditional
things. And then he takes each candidate out to dinner and
observes his or her behavior. "Watch how a person eats,"
he claims, "and that will tell you all you need to know
about their character ... given that manners are what you
learn (and what you do) not for yourself, but out of regard
for other people."
Which
reminds me of Will Willimon's story about being interviewed
for a job at Yale. The first evening they took him to Mory's
(as in "from the tables down at Mory's, to the place
where Louie dwells"). There he was, face to face with
five Yale professors. And his host said that he must have
... in fact, his host ordered for him ... the French onion
soup. Then everybody sat back with perverse delight as Willimon
fielded question after question, while trying to plunge his
spoon through the thick, cheesy crust, without sloshing liquid
over the side in the process. And then there was the matter
of the cheese which never quite broke free from the glob and
ended up stringing itself from chin to spoon until severed
by the fingers. Which is why I never eat the Swiss onion soup
at Peabody's when I am dining in polite company, lest I embarrass
myself by wearing more of it than I consume.
But on
this occasion ... while they were watching Jesus ... Jesus
was watching them. At issue was not the "how" of
their eating, but the "where" of their seating.
To be specific, Jesus ended up addressing the seat selection
process and the way that certain people plunked themselves
down at the head table (or as close as they could get to it).
Leading Jesus to say: "Don't do that. It could get embarrassing,
you know. I mean, you could be sitting in one of the front
seats and your host could approach you and ask if you would
mind `movin' on back.' I mean, it could get ugly."
"Instead,"
said Jesus, "take the lowest seat when you enter, the
one with the clear view of the dishwasher (every time they
open the kitchen door). For you never know. You could get
lucky. And the host could come over to your table and say:
`Hey friend, how about movin' on up?'"
I know
a fellow who is employed by a great university. And he's hung
around the place so long that he knows all the signs that
tell whether you are on the "inside" of university
politics or on the "outside" of university politics.
A big indicator is your table assignment at major university
dinners. The head table is best. Tables 1-3, next best. Any
table, 10 or under, you're pretty much okay. But if you wind
up at table 20, you'd better update your resume.
As one
who, by dint of title, often sits near the front, I appreciate
(and, to some degree, enjoy) the status of high placement.
And yet I hear the words of Jesus when he says: "Hey
friend, don't presume anything. Start down low. Consider yourself
lucky to be there at all. Let your host call the shots."
What's
involved here? More than meets the eye ... I'll tell you that.
And I'll tell you how I know that. There's a little clue in
Luke's narrative that gives it away. For Luke tells us that
the "banquet" in this story is a "marriage
feast." And whenever you see the words "marriage
feast," you know that they are meant as symbols for the
Kingdom.
And this
is one of those stories. Its purpose is to give us a glimpse
of "end time." It says: "Don't count on what
you count on now, counting then. All this jockeying for position.
All this wanting to be in the right seat. All of this wanting
to be number one. None of that is going to count." The
only thing that is going to count in the Kingdom is humility.
Which means that at that banquet ... at that time ... the
appropriate place to gather is at the foot of the table.
And, concerning
that, listen to what Mark Trotter says next:
Nobody
knows what is going to happen at the banquet. I get impatient
with people who think they know what is going to happen.
They seem to know who is going to heaven and who is not,
as if they were privy to the guest list ... as if they knew
beforehand who had been invited ... as if they had access
to the seating chart ... and as if they knew who was going
to be at the head table right next to Jesus. I notice that
the people they say are going to be in heaven tend to be
the people who agree with them. And the people who aren't
going to be there are the people who do not agree with them.
These people pass themselves off as Bible-believing Christians.
But one wonders if they have even read the Bible. Because
if you read the Bible, it's as clear as it could be. Nobody
knows. The only certainty is that there are going to be
surprises. As the old spiritual suggests: "Everybody
talkin' about heaven, ain't goin' there" ... at least,
right off.
Except
there is one clue. The humble are probably going to make the
first cut with the least trouble. Which leads to a pair of
concluding thoughts.
The first
concerns a test for humility. I picked it off the Internet
the other day. It's amazing what you can find there. Consider
this:
During
my second month of nursing school, our professor gave us
a pop quiz. I was a conscientious student and had breezed
through the questions, until I read the last one. "What
is the first name of the women who cleans the school?"
Surely
this was some kind of joke. I had seen the cleaning woman
several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her fifties.
But how would I know her name? I handed in my paper, leaving
the answer blank. Then I heard another student ask if the
last question would count toward our grade. "Absolutely,"
said the professor. "In your careers you will meet
many people. All are significant. Each deserves your attention
and care, even if all you do is smile and say hello."
I've
never forgotten that lesson. I've also learned that her
name is Dorothy.
My second
concluding observation concerns the whereabouts of Jesus at
the banquet. I mean, you might want his autograph. Or you
might want to have your picture taken standing next to him.
So you'll want to know where he's sitting, won't you? Of course
you will. So I'll locate him for you. He's at table 20.
*
* * * *
Oh, by
the way, their names are Tony, Stan, Chito and Martin. I'm
talking about the guys who clean the building. Just so you'll
know.
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