hrist the King Epiphany Church, Wilbraham

The Rev. Martha S. Sipe

 August 31, 2025 / 12th Sunday after Pentecost / Lectionary 22C

Luke 14:1, 7-14

As I understand it, in Jesus’ day, one’s social status was determined by a complex system of both Roman and Jewish hierarchies.  In general, the hierarchies were based on power, wealth, lineage, gender.  And there’s a reason that it’s called a social pyramid – because most people were ranked (gesturing) down here, while the higher you got in your status, the fewer peers you had.  Your position on the social pyramid shaped just about every aspect of your life, from clothing to diet to religious and political access.  Jews also added ritual purity to their status meter.  How well you kept the biblical rules and your avoidance of all things and people who were impure – Gentiles, Samaritans, tax collectors, lepers, and the sick, for example – determined your place on the religious purity pyramid.  

We like to act as if, in 21st century America, there is no more social pyramid.  From the Declaration of Independence itself, we proclaim that “we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men [read today people] are created equal.”  In theory, we no longer hold to distinctions of wealth and gender and race and class and purity; nevertheless, there is something within us that just naturally wants to define our place in the world by our “rank.”  In the book that some of us are reading and discussing right now – The Big Relief, by David Zahl – the author compiled a list of distinctions that he has seen used (or used himself) to signify status in a month’s time:  “dollars, zip codes, party invitations, advanced degrees, body mass index, golf handicaps, busyness, hair color (and length), engine horsepower, house cleanliness, soccer trophies, knowledge of current events, number of bedrooms, number of tattoos, number of children, number of page views, biceps size, audience size, waist size, mental health diagnosis, pronoun usage, literary tastes, children’s school, church denomination, charitable giving, mileage run per week, passport stamps, carbon footprint, and graveyard plot location.”  I found it interesting, and particularly convicting, that some of the categories on the author’s list can go either way:  we might brag about how busy we are, OR we might brag about how good we are at keeping a balanced schedule!  We might be proud of our new car OR equally proud that we hold onto an old car as long as possible so that we’re not seen as too materialistic!  We are endlessly creative in the ways we find to define ourselves as “better than” others, in the ways we signal our value and worth as compared to someone else.  

All of which means that status anxiety is a real problem.  It’s the fear and worry associated with our social standing, and it’s driven by the need to meet societal expectations of success, whether that success is judged by having the “right” possessions or achieving professional goals or even just by our uniqueness or the strength of our opinions.  Status anxiety can negatively impact our mental and physical health, and the anxiety is magnified when we compare ourselves to one another, especially on social media.  I wish that I could tell you that every time I see travel pictures posted on Facebook that I am filled with nothing but joy for my friends’ good fortune.  I wish I could tell you that . . . but I can’t.  And somehow, my coveting gets mixed up with my sense of value and worth and deserved-ness, if that’s a word.  Status anxiety is a real thing.  (And I have to tell you, parenthetically, that I googled “status anxiety” this week, and the first result was an Australian-based company called “Status Anxiety” who sells a 4 x 9-inch purse which starts at $200.  Oh, the irony!)

        Status anxiety is what Jesus observed at the Sabbath dinner at the Pharisee’s home.  He saw how the guests sought out the places of honor at the table.  And he noted how the host had only invited those who could offer some benefit of status in return.  “Take the cheap seats,” Jesus counsels, “so that you can be invited to better ones, rather than choosing the best seats and being demoted.”  It would be easy to turn this into just some Ben Franklin-esque common sense about how to avoid embarrassment.  But I believe Jesus is signaling something more significant.  Because he continues the little hospitality lesson by turning to the host, and saying, “Invite the people who absolutely cannot do anything to raise your status.” It seems to me that Jesus is doing more than giving practical advice, more even than recommending humility as a virtue:  he’s turning the whole system of social climbing, the whole status pyramid, upside down.  Because the kingdom of God doesn’t work like that.  

And thank heaven for that!  Thanks be to God that there’s no ranking of righteousness that determines our status at the Lord’s table and in his kingdom.  Because – how exactly would you know if your ranking was high enough?  If you were good enough?  Or repentant enough? 

Or . . . just enough?  David Zahl, in The Big Relief, counters our earthly status anxiety with this reminder that there is no status anxiety before God:  

You and I are not loved by God because we are special.  We are special because we are loved by God. . . . Our status, our identity, and our value are secure in Christ and therefore, not dependent on our waxing and waning performance in school or golf or even discipleship.  As Philip Yancey once wrote, “Grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us more.  And grace means there is nothing we can do to make God love us less.”

There is nothing we can do to make God love us more.  And there is nothing we can do to make God love us less.  That is, indeed, good news.

It seems to me that Jesus is not describing how things ought to work in this earthly kingdom so much as describing how things do work in God’s kingdom.  Practicing humility – that is, giving others the best seats and including those who cannot advance us – to live like that is certainly the way that Jesus lived.  And yes, we ought to aspire to live as he did.  But no matter how humble our status, no matter how our other-centered is our way of life, it doesn’t raise our standing one iota before our heavenly Father.  When we gather around the altar today – and when we think about gathering around the heavenly banquet some day – perhaps we should picture the table as round.  Having no head, for us to try to get close to.  And in my vision, I see Jesus, our host, standing in the middle, equally close to us all.  We are all equally welcomed to the feast not because of who we are, but because of who Jesus is.