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Twinbrook Baptist Church Rockville, MD Ordinary Time September 02, 2007 Pastor: Kip Ingram Kip@TwinbrookBaptist.com |
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For months, the negotiations over Vietnam in the late 1960s went nowhere. The diplomats spent the bulk of their time arguing over the shape of the negotiating table. The U.S. wanted two sides, with the U.S. and Saigon on one side, and the Communists on the other. The Communists wanted four sides, with the U.S., the Saigon govt., the Hanoi govt., and the South Vietnam guerilla movement each getting a side. A number of people ridiculed this disagreement as a waste of time or priorities. So why was the space around the table seemingly so important? One of the main features of the medieval legends surrounding King Arthur is that when his knights gathered with him in council, they gathered at a round table. In the usual medieval setting, the king and family are seated at the high table, and a hierarchy is established at an associated rectangular table, with seating in descending order from those highest in rank and honor closest to the king to those lower in the hierarchy seated farthest from the king's high table. The legend of King Arthur has it that the knights gathered at a round table in order to show their equality and common bond. In fact, one source has it that King Arthur ordered a round table to be built in order to resolve a conflict among his knights about who would have precedence. The space of those knights and their table is part of the legend passed down through the centuries. If you go to FedEx Field where the Washington Redskins play their football games at home, you will notice not only a football field and many sections of seats, you will also see at the top a special section of seating spaces usually called Skyboxes. If you've ever watched a game on TV, sometimes you will see the owner Daniel Snyder sitting in one of the Skyboxes with his family and guests. These special seats are expensive, much more expensive than regular seating, and they are typically occupied by VIPs--team officials, business leaders, politicians, celebrities, and other fortunate folk. Occasionally, the ”little people” get to sit in a Skybox. When we lived in Dallas, I remember my dad telling me that his company had a box at Texas Stadium where the Cowboys play, and for one game, a ticket got handed down several times until it got to him, and he was able to experience sitting there with other privileged folks. When people gather for an event or a task, space is highly symbolic. It means something. The way people and objects are configured carry meaning and can reflect certain values. When a bride and groom are seated at a head table at the reception, it says something about the meaning of that event. When a banquet has a head table of honorees to be recognized, it says something about the values expressed by that gathering. The recognized space around and between people is important; the way people are situated means something. This was true in the day of Jesus as well. In the homes of those esteemed more highly in his society, meals and special banquets were occasions not only of recognition and of joy, but also of reinforcing the existing social values of who is higher and who is lower in society. There was a correct order of seating which mirrored the correct ordering of society. We don't realize today how important this was to them. We often sit informally at meal times in our individualistic society, but where you sat back then was who you were. And the deepest motivating fear was not only that you would lose your seat at a banquet or meal, but that you would lose your place in society. So space for people was fraught with meaning. Well, here's the gospel story. Jesus travels to the home of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal. When he notices how some of the guests were scrambling for the places of honor, he tells them a kind of parable. When you are invited to a banquet, he says, don't claim the seat of honor first, because if someone esteemed more highly than you shows up, the host will come to you and say ”hey buddy, you're in the wrong seat. This place belongs to this other guy.” Then you will have egg on your face as you get up in front of all those people and slowly find a spot on the back row. Instead, Jesus says, you should show up and find a spot first on the back row where there are always plenty of seats, because no one is scrambling for them. Then when the host sees you, he might say, ”I think I have a seat for you up front,” and everyone will see you walking forward with your host, and the people you sit by will think you are really something for getting a special seat provided especially by the host. Now, the point Jesus is making is not how to be sneaky on your climb to the top of the social ladder. Instead, he is questioning the ladder itself. He wants to upset the social expectations that create a hierarchy of ins and outs among people. He wants to upset the spacing by which people are situated and labeled as good or not, successful or not, accepted or not. In fact, he goes on from this parable to encourage his guests to invite others when they give a meal, to invite not just the rich and those who can repay, but those society would put in the back row, if they were invited at all. Ultimately, Jesus is challenging the meaning of space as it is used to exclude or label or limit people in his society. He is telling them and us: ”God has other arrangements, other ways that are more inviting and inclusive, other ways that offer unexpected possibilities. So pay attention to the meaning of space when you gather.” So how do we think about the meaning of space in our church? How do we assess the space between and around people in our congregational practices? We can start with how you might feel. Do you wish for closer space among and with others or do you find yourself feeling crowded? Do you feel as if you are on the outside looking in or on the inside wishing you could move to the margin? We all have a need for times of both closeness with others and distance from them. Our church has opportunities for closeness in small group study, church dinners, mission projects or ministry groups, informal sharing before and after church, and outings with church friends. But are there other ways we can create bonds of trust and sharing among ourselves? If you are feeling that need, I would sure like to hear about it from you sometime. Okay let's look at it from a different angle. Consider our typical seating patterns here in worship. When Jesus said in this passage to sit, ”not in the front seats first, but in the back ones,” I think many of us have taken him literally! Routinely, there are very few people who sit in the first four or five rows of the church during worship. What does this space mean? Well, it could be that we sit in the back because we are anticipating a possible need to leave early, or to get up unexpectedly with a small child. It could be that we like to sit in the back so that we can see others and not miss any of the action. It could be that the pastor gets too excited preaching sometimes and sprays people on the front rows with saliva! But more seriously, I wonder sometimes if it says something about us more generally-that for some reason we want to keep a polite distance, that we don't want to get too close, that we don't want to risk putting ourselves with others in the middle of things. I don't know if any of this is on the mark. Ultimately, each of us will have to look within ourselves to answer it. I do know, in light of the words of Jesus, that space rarely just happens between people. It almost always carries a meaning of some kind. Well, as we think about our congregational life together, let me offer you three things that should characterize our space. First of all, it is an invited space. Jesus encouraged his listeners at that long ago meal to go out and invite others, to reach out to people from any and every area of society. And the implication is that the kingdom of God is to be like a banquet meal where all are invited. In fact, we might say that the life of Jesus itself was an invitation to share space with himself and others, and in doing so, to find God. Mixed in with all our reasons for coming here on a given day, the main reason underlying them all is that we are invited, invited by a God who loves us and wants us to turn in trust to God and with one another. There are plenty of places in this world where we might not feel invited. I noticed that the 10 year anniversary service for Princess Diana this past week was by invitation only, and this meant the invitations were limited to a select few. You and I could not attend, and I'm sure none of us lost any sleep over being excluded. But what about other situations that might hit closer to home? When I was in school, during recess we would regularly choose up sides before playing a game. You remember how this worked-two captains were chosen, and they alternated picking players for their team. The fear among some was that you would be chosen last or that you wouldn't be chosen at all. It hurts to feel like you are not wanted, especially as a child interested in fitting in. But this is also true for any of us at any age who need a place and a people to call our own. Well, the good news is that the space in church is not limited to a select few and not based on favoritism or perceived merit. It is offered to any and all from a loving God. Our challenge is to embrace that invitation and use the space between us and others to extend that love. Do people visiting us feel like ours is an inviting space? What gestures do we make and what signals do we send to those who enter this place? A second characterization of our congregational life is that it is to be a shared space. When Jesus invited people into the space of his movement, it was not so that they would remain isolated individuals, brought together but not really sharing, passing like ships in a dark night. The space around meals and banquets is for sharing-this was the implication Jesus made. So we are to share open hands in a handshake and open arms in a hung, to share space in a pew and words in a prayer, to share the space of conversations together and the work of ministry, to share the joyful moments of our lives and the difficult times of our losses. This is what shared space means in a community of faith. When Harvey Cox spoke at the Alliance of Baptists meeting several months ago in D.C,, he used a phrase to describe the church which I like very much. It is not an original phrase with him, but it is an important one. He said the early church saw itself as a ”community of equals.” He pointed out how the idea of a ”community of equals” was subversive to a hierarchical society, and the early church was distinctive and truthful because it tried to live out this idea. However, as history moved on, the church began to compromise with the hierarchy around it, and equality gave way to hierarchies of rich over poor, men over women, priests and bishops over lay people. And yet, the notion of a ”community of equals” is still a radical truth and possibility for our world. It doesn't mean that we all have the same talents or skills or inclinations; it means we are equal in grace and love, equal in dignity as people of God, equal in participation as a common body. To be a community of equals means not only that we have the benefits of full participation in the congregation, it also means we have the responsibility of full participation in the congregation. Whenever we share communion, the table is always open facing outward to the congregation. The ushers stand along the side, and I stand along the back, but the space in front is for any and all. It is a symbolic recognition of our shared space. Participation at its simplest means doing our part-no more but also no less. And this leads to a final point: our congregational life is to be used space. It should show signs of presence and life. In shopping for a used car, when you examine one, you notice the inevitable signs that it has been used-a ding in the hood, a stain in the floor, an armrest worn smooth over time. These are signs of someone's presence, that a living being has been in this space and used it. The previous owner has left her or his mark on the car. In a similar way, I want to ask you if you are using the space of our congregation. Are there signs of your presence and life among others here? Are you leaving your mark in the lives of others? As we use this space with others, there is always room for a fresh and creative approach. Sometimes we use space in the same way for so long that we get trapped doing it. We sit in the same places, talk only to the same people, say basically the same things, and nothing really happens as we drift along. There is a phrase for using space the same way over and again. It is called making a rut. And sometimes we need to break out of our ruts, to see and use our space differently. There is a wonderful scene in the movie Dead Poets Society, when Robin Williams as the teacher wants to provoke his students into finding a new space from which they can see things fresh and differently. He directs them all to come forward in class, one by one, and stand on top of his desk for a moment to look out at the classroom and the world from a different space. You get feeling in watching this scene, that not only are these teenage boys happy to be breaking the rules, but even more, they are energized by having their eyes opened to something new. Now, I am not necessarily inviting you to come stand on the pulpit, but I am inviting you to change your space if you are trapped in a rut that is no longer life-giving for you. Find a fresh vantage point and see what it offers. When we think about the spaces or zones in our lives, there are three that we can name along a continuum. The first is our comfort zone. This is not necessarily bad. We need our comfort zone in special moments and as a routine. Time in the comfort zone gives us a chance to stabilize when we need it. The third space on the opposite side of the continuum is our panic zone. This is also an important place for us to enter when we need to, as an emergency or a crisis arises, or we call upon it occasionally for motivation. But both of these opposites also have a down side. If we stay only or mostly in our comfort zone, then life becomes diminished and we find ourselves trapped in a rut and not growing in any vital way. On the other hand, if we spend too much time in the panic zone, we push ourselves and abuse ourselves beyond what God intended, both in body and soul. In the middle of these two opposite is our challenge zone. We should visit this place regularly as people of faith, because it is the growing tip of our lives where God calls and we answer and good things can happen. May each of us consider the spaces around us and in our church, and may we heed the call of God to growth in the faith journey. |
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