You Are Invited
You are invited. Those three little words open up an opportunity to be a part of something – usually something special – a birthday party, a wedding, an event, a celebration.
Sometimes, it is a formal event. Just last weekend, I was at a wedding of dear friends of ours. The banquet tables were set, the candles lit and it looked quite inviting. It was even more inviting when I found my name on a place card at one of the tables. It felt good to know that I belonged. Also, I noticed that I was sitting at a round table with friends – there was no head and no foot – we were all simply gathered together to celebrate.
In Jesus’ day, there weren’t place cards on the table and the tables were not round. There was a distinct difference between the “head” and the “foot” of the table. The food started at the head of the table – and those at the foot of the table got the leftover scraps. Naturally, everyone wanted to sit at the head of the table. But they were also expected to “know” where they belonged. As Jesus warned them – don’t scramble for the best seats, closer to the chairs of honor – lest you be shamed by being sent lower down the line.
Jesus’ teaching – to humbly take the lower place rather than seeking a seat of honor – would have seemed radical to his listeners. And Jesus also has a counter-cultural message for the hosts – don’t invite those who will “return the favor” and invite you back. Instead, invite “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind.” Invite those who never get invited to anything, the ones who are considered “less than.”
Years ago, when I worked at Augustana Lutheran, they decided to host “Parking Lot Banquets.” Every summer, they would set up 15 or more tables in the parking lot, cover them with brightly colored vinyl table clothes and invite the neighborhood. They would also invite a musician or a band to come and play. But unlike other events in which the hosting church put on aprons and served the poor, who went through a line. Augustana invited their suburban partners to bring a feast while they joined their neighbors at the table. It was a remarkable site to see these faithful Swedish elders of the church – who I had just seen a few days earlier dressed in their Sunday best – come in casual clothes and sit at a table with the neighborhood people, many of whom were poor – and who came for a good meal. Meanwhile, the people from the suburban church would bring the heaping plates of food to the people sitting at the table, serving the meal as if they were in a fine restaurant and as graciously as they would serve Jesus.
At first, I wanted to be one of the servers. As a staff person, I thought it was my role to serve and help with the logistics. But one day when I standing around trying to look useful, a mentor friend of mine said to me, “Pam, there are plenty of volunteers to serve the food. What we need are people to engage with our guests so that they know that they are honored and that they belong, that they are a part of us. Sit down and be served with our guests.” That deepened my perspective of what hospitality looks like and the humility needed to be served like the neighbors were and not to have the power of being “in charge.”
Luther Seminar professor Rolf Jacobson tells the story of when he felt honored by someone else’s hospitality. He was invited to a small luncheon that was honoring then poet laureate Maya Angelo who spoke at a youth convention. He said that when he got to the hotel banquet room, there were two round tables. Maya Angelo and the ELCA bishop of the time and other ELCA dignitaries were at that table, and there were a few open spaces. But, he said, I knew my place since I was a newly graduated seminary student and so he wheeled himself to the other table, the lesser table – Rolf has been in a wheelchair since he was a young man.
But, he said, after the meal and when the dignitaries were about to honor Maya Angelo with a gift and were starting to heap praises on her, she left that table and went over to Rolf and said to him, “What is your story? I want to know about you.” He was so honored that she – instead of listening to the accolades about her work – chose to seek him out to ask about his story.1
What I love about this story is that she wasn’t forced to go and speak with the young man in the wheel chair but she chose to fore-go the accolades, risk offending the ones who were honoring her and instead to approach someone who was different than she to hear his story. She chose to act with humble curiosity and not with self-importance or righteousness.
Sometimes it’s tempting – at least for me - to put someone like Maya Angelo on a pedestal. I love her work and this story just made me appreciate her all the more. But noticing someone who looks “different” and then getting out of her chair and moving – while remarkable – is not a superhero move. This is something that ordinary people like you and me can do.
Rolf’s story reminds me of when I felt honored – or maybe a better term would be “rescued” – in the lunchroom of what was then Plymouth Junior High. I’ve told this story before but I couldn’t help but reflect upon the difference that one little invitation made for me.
It was the first day of a new school for me. And, even though this was a huge difference from small village school that I had attended, I was doing well following my schedule and finding my classrooms. But then came the lunchroom. I followed the person in front of me, carrying my tray and selecting my food. It was all was great until… I came out of the serving line and saw rows and rows of junior high students sitting in clumps with their friends. There was no designated seating. I didn’t have a place card. I didn’t know where to sit. And so, I paused and looked around, not knowing where to go.
At that moment, Cindy came up to me and said, “Would you like to sit with us?” With a sigh of relief, I said, “Yes.” And she led me back to her table of friends. Cindy didn’t have to do that. She could have said, “Welcome to the Plymouth Jr. High Lunchroom. Glad you are here. You can sit anywhere you want.” And then gone back to her friends. But I was so glad that instead, she noticed me and then invited me to her table. Cindy isn’t an extreme extrovert. She was an 8th grade girl – who happened to be Lutheran and it was probably a little bit of a risk for her. But it was a huge relief for me.
This is what hospitality is all about: noticing someone and inviting them to your table. Do you see how it is different than just welcoming someone?
Last week, I mentioned a verse from our reading from Hebrews, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels” – and I like the translation “unawares” - without realizing it. It likely refers to the three strangers who visited Abraham and Sarah and who announced that they would have a child. But it also reminds us that God is at work in our world – and sometimes shows up in the strangers that we meet. And so, as followers of Jesus, we – you and I, are invited us to show hospitality to one another AND to the stranger, the other, the “outsider” by noticing and inviting the “other” to our table because – the table doesn’t belong to us. It belongs to Jesus.
As we read in Hebrews, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” That doesn’t mean that nothing changes in our world. That means that the love and care of Jesus doesn’t change. But Jesus is still at work inviting us all to change ourselves and our world to reflect God’s kingdom world. And sometimes that begins with two simple invitations. First, you/ we have received an invitation from Jesus to his banquet - for the banquet belongs to Jesus; And then, you/we are invited to extend that invitation so that everyone will know that we ALL are invited to His table. Amen.
August 31, 2025 + Faith-Lilac Way Lutheran + Pastor Pam Stalheim Lane
1 Workingpreacher.org Podcast 1039 Twelfth Sunday After Pentecost, Aug 31, 2025 with Dr. Rolf Jacobson