Scripture readings for the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time:
Wisdom9:13-18
Psalm 90:3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14, 17
Philemon 9-10, 12-17
Luke 14:25-33
A sabbath dinner, Jesus is at the home of a Pharisee.
Jesus heals a man, a scandalous miracle on the sabbath. He justifies the act by saying that of course he should’ve healed the man, that anyone would do the same for his son or even for cattle. What’s strange or wrong, he asks, about this wondrous work? He leaves them speechless (Luke 14:1-6). The miracle, anyway, was meant to give way to talk about the kingdom, which is basically what the rest of Luke 14 is about.
Jesus first tells a parable about humility, about presumption. Remember that he’s talking to Pharisees, to people assuming they were at the front of the line, exclusively elect. “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted” (Luke 14:11). “But when you give a feast, invite the poor, the maimed, the blind” (Luke 14:13).
He’s teaching not just a moral lesson here but also a theological one, an eschatological lesson. Earlier in Luke, his Blessed Mother sings this truth, about how God “has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree” (Luke 1:52). Here, Jesus makes it dinner conversation; at table, the Lord it seems can’t help but teach.
Next comes the parable of the “great banquet.” It is a story about the kingdom of God, about how “many” are invited. Yet many make excuses. “I have bought a field, and I must go out and see it.” “I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come.” The excuses made are worldly, involving possessions or the flesh. That’s why the master in the story says, “Go out to the highways and hedges.” He means to invite anyone free enough to come.
Again, remember that he’s talking to people presuming that simply by being who they are guaranteed them a place in the kingdom, to people who may have grown too accustomed to rely on notions of status or success or ethnicity or election, believing such things by themselves merited the kingdom of God. But that presumption is precisely the problem; awkwardly at a Pharisee’s dinner table, that’s precisely what these stories are getting at, that such presumption is not a sure bet.
And then, in this Sunday’s reading, Jesus repeats the lesson he’s been teaching for several chapters (Luke 14:25-33). He is trying to pry his disciples and would-be followers from relying on everything they are normally accustomed to rely on. Religious identity and status? Stop. Possessions? Definitely stop. Family status? Stop relying even on that. Putting it in the starkest terms possible, talking about “hating” even family members, what Jesus is calling his disciples and potential disciples to accept is that they are to renounce every instance of earthly reliance for the sake of following him.
Jesus is not ultimately saying his disciples should erase or ignore all family bonds, but that they should be decisively subordinated to their following Jesus. He is calling his disciples to consider a truly radical reordering of their lives. Which is why Jesus suggests his would-be disciples think about it a little, that they “count the cost” (Luke 14:28). Because there really is no such thing as a part-time disciple. Being a Christian can’t be a side gig. Being a fake Christian can, but not a real one.
The questions, therefore, which these stories and this Sunday’s reading bring to the fore are questions about false reliance and presumption. Do we rely solely on ourselves and on our wealth, chasing after the security we think money or worldly success offers? That’s as much a problem today, and an eternal danger, as it was then; we should beg for the gift of faith.
Or do we think our religious status affords us a guaranteed ticket to the kingdom? Congratulations, you were baptized a Catholic and went to Catholic school, but do you know the Lord? Just outside the doors of the heavenly kingdom, will the Lord say he knows you on that day? “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven,” Jesus says (Matthew 7:21). You see what’s at stake here?
When reading the Gospels, I always ask myself if I can identify not just with the saint but also with the sinner in the story, or the ignorant or the villain; often I can. It’s always a sobering but ultimately helpful spiritual exercise. Would I have been an offended Pharisee were I there listening to this radical rabbi tell his stories? Would I have been upset by Jesus’s stories, so pointed that they seemed to target me?
I’ll be honest, I think in many ways I would have been shocked, hurt a little or maybe a lot. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s the beginning of my redemption, seeing where I need to repent.
Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books.
