Building Bridges Instead of Walls

Luke 14, et. al.

Lately, I’ve been drawn to songs that are socially conscious, like the Youngbloods’ Come Together, Bob Dylan’s The Times, They are a’ Changing, and Blowing in the Wind. One song that hit me recently was a song by Peter Gabriel, a musician who used to front the progressive rock band Genesis in the late sixties to mid seventies. Actually, there are three, all from his third solo album.

Games Without Frontiers is a song you might still hear on classic rock radio stations. It’s a commentary on the futility of war, but also its inevitability, because of human nature.

Another song is called Biko, written as a eulogy for Stephen Biko, an anti-apartheid activist who died in police custody on September 12, 1977 in Port Elizabeth, South Africa. The government had reported he’d died of malnutrition after a hunger strike, but the truth was that he’d suffered a traumatic brain injury from police beatings and died.

But the song I’m going to talk about this morning is called Not One of Us.

As you might guess from the title, it’s about our tendency to create groups, and define criteria to determine if someone is in or out. And to justify exclusion from the group. It’s sung from the point of view of someone who is in the group, making excuses to the listener, who is not.

The chorus goes like this:

You might look like we do/ talk like we do/ but you know how it is/ You’re not one of us… (full lyrics can be found here)

This is the nature of things in this world, that people with privilege use it to their own advantage, often to the detriment of those who are not as privileged.

In this season of Thanksgiving, I challenge us all to recognize that we are the privileged, and that we have a responsibility to the countless people who have very little to be thankful for.

 What is going on in Luke 14?

 Simply put, there are people who have privilege, and would very much like to keep it that way. At the same time, there are people who through no fault of their own are suffering from poverty, injury, illness, and exclusion.

 In previous chapters, Jesus warns the people not to fall into the same hypocrisy as the Pharisees, who so blindly follow the letter of the law that they let opportunities to do genuine good fall by the wayside.

The most recognizable hypocrisy is their attitude about the Sabbath. In Luke 13, Jesus heals a woman who had suffered for eighteen years, and the synagogue leader becomes indignant. “There are six days when work should be done, be healed on those days.”

Jesus responds with a challenge. “Would you not rescue one of your children or even one of your livestock if it happened to fall in a well on the Sabbath? Why then should I not help this poor woman now, rather than make her wait even one more day for healing?”

Luke 14 begins with another Sabbath and another healing. “Is it lawful to do good on the Sabbath, or isn’t it?” Elsewhere, he asks, is it lawful to do good or evil on the sabbath?

Is it ever lawful to do evil, on the sabbath or any other day? For that matter, is it ever unlawful to do good, on the sabbath or any other day?

I remembered hearing a news story from a few years, maybe decades, ago, about a man who was arrested for feeding homeless people in the park. I did a quick internet search and found out I was mistaken. It wasn’t a single story, but several.

The most recent story I found was just over a year old. It still happens.

Cities all over the country, and in other countries, have spent millions of dollars on what is termed hostile architecture. This ranges from putting studs or spikes on sidewalks to discourage people from sleeping there. Putting extra armrests of benches, so no one can lie down on them. Slanting window sills so no one can sit on them.

What is wrong with us, building spikes instead of shelters? Walls, instead of bridges?

This is the kind of attitude the Pharisees exhibited in their zeal for keeping the law, and it was one of the things Jesus spoke most strongly against.

Another was their love of status. They enjoyed the recognition they received as learned men of the community: honored places at banquets, prominent seats in the synagogue, you get the idea.

Jesus was having none of it. Don’t assume the places of honor for yourselves, or you might be humiliated by being asked to give up your seat to someone else. Instead, Jesus says, sit at the low places and let the host move you to a better spot.

 Now, this can also be twisted into doctrine, as someone might do such a thing specifically for the purpose of being recognized for his humility…but that’s completely missing the point, isn’t it? It’s not the accolades that matter. Jesus said not to do good works for the purpose of being seen by other people. Let your good works be done in secret to all but God.

 But then Jesus really throws things upside-down. It’s not just how you behave at someone else’s banquet, but how you behave when planning your own, as well.

Don’t invite family, or friends, or rich neighbors, because they might return the favor, and you will be repaid. Instead, invite the poor, maimed, lame, or blind. Invite people who could never repay you. Do this, and you will be blessed.

Is this passage saying that it’s wrong to invite family and friends to banquets? Is it wrong to have potluck meals? I don’t think so. I recognize I might be completely wrong about this, but I don’t think that’s the point.

What, then, is the point?

I think the point is made in the very next parable: There was a man who held a banquet. When the time came, he sent his servants to fetch those who were invited, but they all made excuses, and would not come. So the man sent the servants out to the streets and alleys, to the poor, maimed, lame, and blind. After doing so, he discovered that there was still room, so he sent his servants out farther and wider, to highways and hedges, and keep letting in people until the house was full.

This is God’s kingdom. The first to be invited were the Israelites, but when the time came, they refused the invitation, so God sent for all the rest of the world. It was what Christ had come to do, to draw the world to him.

The Pharisees still didn’t get it, though. In the very next chapter, they are criticizing Jesus for eating with tax collectors and sinners—for literally doing what he told them to do.

Do we get it? Sometimes. Sometimes not.

God wants a full house. He wants not the brightest and best of us, but all of us. He wants the world to come to him. His invitation isn’t just for the rich, the beautiful, the able-bodied, and the well-educated. It’s for the poor, the maimed, the lame, and the blind.