Lent. A Season of self-examination. A time to look into the mirror, as it were, to see yourself as you really are. In this rather long blog I want us to look at two stories from St. Luke. Both involve dinners to which Jesus was invited. Similar in a way, and at the same time very different.

Then three suggestions for reflection.
At the end I will give you a further thought concerning these stories, and another story St. Luke told.
I invite you to let these texts be mirrors. Which is to say, look for yourself in the stories: for who you think you are, and for whom you hope you are not.
And look for Jesus, of course, who wherever he is, and even here, we believe, today, always seems to attract both the righteous, and the unrighteous; the put-together, and the broken; humble sinners and… the indignantly faithful.
Levi in turn calls-over all his rowdy friends, as it were: celebrates with other tax collectors and sinners the welcome and summons he has received from Jesus.
Jesus also attends, which is no surprise to us, but it surely scandalized the Pharisees and scribes who were… watching from a distance, I guess, but close enough to see, and to fuss at the disciples, and to reprimand Jesus…
Already they don’t like how Jesus is not teaching appropriate respect for Sabbath; how he claims to forgive sins; how he is not reinforcing necessary cultural and religious identity markers (Sabbath-keeping, hand-washing) markers during the Roman occupation.
To their way of thinking—at least to our way of thinking—Jesus is not serious enough about sin, or resisting the empire, or making the nation great again.
Are they smug, or afraid, in their indignant self-righteousness? Either way, they seem to know who they are by whom they would not welcome to the table. Exclusion is the root and fruit of their religion. At least that is the way we see them now.
And we ourselves have seen folk like this, have we not? In our own day.

I also saw people inside who were just as judgmental, just as smug and indignant, just as afraid, one way or the other.
(For another contemporary expression of the Pharisees' self-righteous and exclusionary pique, see the reaction of some commentators to Lauren Daigle appearing on the Ellen DeGeneres Show: https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2018/12/let-lauren-daigle-be-unsure-about-lgbt-relationships/577651/)
Back in Luke, in that first story: that evening at Levi’s dinner party, the Pharisees and their legal advisors, the scribes, are horrified that Jesus would call a tax collector to be his disciple. That Jesus would eat with sinners. But who is the sinner? Who is the righteous?
The second story begins when one of the Pharisees, Simon by name, invites Jesus to an outdoor dinner party. Probably on a big back patio, behind Simon’s house.
And a surprise, I think, that Simon invited Jesus to dinner at all, given the company Jesus keeps—which company could have made Jesus and everyone else at Simon’s party, ritually unclean.

Do you consider it a surprise that Jesus seems as willing to eat with Simon and his friends as he was to eat with Levi and his friends?
Would you go to a dinner party with one of the sign-carriers from Westboro Baptist Church?
If not, why not?
So, good for Simon that he invited Jesus. Good for Jesus that he went.
It appears, though, as if Simon seats Jesus at the lower tables, a good ways from the head table, but still close enough that Simon can see, can keep tabs, the way generous hosts are always checking on their guests.
Only, not like that, either. Simon is not so much tending to his guests as holding court, making notes. Nothing very gracious about his welcome. No water. No oil. No kiss.
He may have been playing a game. It may have been a power play:
By inviting the upstart rabbi, perhaps Simon is hoping to demonstrate that he is not threatened by the populist preacher. Is he asserting dominance, marking his territory, as it were, by inviting him, but not letting him too close?
Jesus finds himself close to the edges of the patio—where the uninvited would gather ‘round to watch the party—much as we read People magazine, or keep up with the Kardashians: we all enjoy the warmth of reflected celebrity. Gives us enhanced identity.


The Pharisee says, “Lord, I thank you that I am not like the Publican.”
The Publican says, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
When I read that story I say, “Lord, I thank you I am not like the Pharisee: judgmental, condescending, exclusionary…”, I prove that I am a Pharisee.
In St. Louis, when I said, “Lord I think you I am not judgmental like the folk from WBC,” which only proved I was every bit as judgmental as the folk from WBC.
When we judge people’s judgmentalism… exclude them for excluding... exclude them for including... when we wish everyone were as enlightened as we are…
When we, too, only guardedly welcome those about whom we have our suspicions…
When, as we read the stories, we see ourselves as the heroes, or as Jesus… the mirror of scripture reveals we are the Pharisees.
As James Sanders famously said, if we read the Scripture and congratulate ourselves, we can be sure we have read it wrong.
Prayer of Confession
The Lord be with you.
And also with you.
Let us pray:
Grant us to judge ourselves according to your Word, before we use your Word to judge others.
Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.
Bring us to remembrance of our sins, before we ponder the sins of others.
Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.
Then, in your mercy, forgive us. Free us to forgive others, and to believe in your perfect grace for all your imperfect children.
Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.
Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
Through Christ our Lord. Amen.