volf table talk

a few weeks ago the sunday lectionary text was from luke 14 where jesus gives advice about banquet invitation lists. don't invite your friends, he says, for they might repay you. rather, invite the poor, crippled, the lame, the blind, for they can not repay you. on the way out of church, i said to my pastor, mike merkel, that we were throwing a banquet that night and only invited our friends, and that i felt the bite of this text. in what way is our home, our table, and our life open to those who 'cannot repay.'

miroslav volf, in the chapter titled "theology for a way of life" in practicing theology, writes about a slightly crude regular attender at the church that his father served as pastor. because this man lived in another village, when he did make it to church, miroslav's parents would also invite him to dinner at their home. as a child, he wondered why this man had to be invited every time. miroslav writes that he imagines his paretns responding that this stranger who seemed not to follow rules of civilized society helps us to recognize the power of christ's wounds breaking open our lives even as we take and eat his broken body. if that was not convincing enough, they might remind him that it is with such people as this stranger from another village that we will sit at that grand eschatological meal where the triune god will serve as host.

last night sonja and i hosted a party to say good-bye to kathryn reklis who has worked with us at the center for faith & culture, and to welcome new staff members chris jones and allison bronco-tichy. this, it turns out, was not a party for friends, as some of the people invited i do not know at all, or only a little. yet is was not exactly the blind and the lame. still, a group of twelve people around our table, a table given by the people of first lutheran, new britain, with whom i presided at the eucharist week after week, felt to me like a wonderful embodiment of the breaking open so that others can be drawn into the abundant life of god. i like that our table, constructed from old pennsylvania barn wood, has old nail holes left in it. it serves to remind us that not only has this table come from a tree, but its wood has sheltered animals and fostered a livelihood before we came share its warmth and beauty over meals with friend and strangers. seeing some of these interconnections pushes our reflections on hospitality and welcome across the tables where we are, at turns, guest and host.

anon, and +peace to you.