Luke 14:1–24 — dinner at a Pharisee's house: rules, seats, guest lists, and a great supper

From a sermon · Luke 14:1–24

Jesus is on His way to Jerusalem. He's already had the Sermon on the Mount, fed the five thousand, been transfigured, and started teaching hard things about discipleship. Now He's in the thick of confrontations with the Pharisees, and one of the chief ones invites Him to a Sabbath meal. Pharisees and lawyers are at the table, a sick man is somehow in the room, and everyone is watching. Four things happen at that dinner.

The healing (vv. 1–6): rules have a purpose

"They were watching him closely." A man with dropsy — what we'd call edema, fluid swelling in the legs or abdomen, usually a sign of heart or kidney trouble — is placed in front of Jesus. It may well have been a setup. Jesus asks the lawyers and Pharisees, "Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath or not?" They say nothing. He heals the man and sends him on his way, then asks: "Which of you whose son or ox falls into a well, will not immediately pull him out on the Sabbath day?" They can't answer.

The Sabbath command was real (Exodus 20:8–11). But the Pharisees had stacked their own traditions on top of it until "no work" had become an ordeal (Mark 7:1–13). Jesus never questioned the command; He questioned the traditions. And He exposed the motive: they'd rescue their own animal — an animal was wealth and survival — but cringe at rescuing a person. "The sabbath was made for man, and not man for the sabbath" (Mark 2:27). Behind every command of God is one of two purposes: love God, or love people. A rule that keeps you from helping someone has been turned against the reason it was given.

So the questions for us. When someone doesn't do things the way you do them, what's your response — criticism, or the recognition that you need Jesus too? Have you elevated a tradition to the level of Scripture? All doctrine should come from the Bible. And when a rule or tradition gets in the way of obeying God, which one do you follow? Shouldn't the rule help you obey Him, not hinder you? Jesus got close to that sick man, cared about him, and cared more about the spirit of the law than the letter. If you can help someone, you should — even against the grain, even at a cost.

The seats (vv. 7–11): take the low place

Jesus noticed how the guests picked the best seats, and told a parable. When you're invited to a wedding feast, don't take the place of honor — someone more important may come, and the host will move you down in front of everyone. Take the lowest place; then the host may say, "Friend, move up higher," and you'll be honored. "For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted."

These guests came to be seen, not to enjoy the party. James saw the same thing in church — the man with the gold ring gets the good seat, the poor man gets the floor (James 2:2–4). But notice: it wasn't their party. When you're at someone's house, they make the rules, and if the host doesn't want you in a seat, you'll be asked to move. Think of the head table at a wedding versus everyone else's. So when you come to a gathering — including church — it isn't about you. Don't make it about you. "I didn't like the worship today." That's all right; we weren't worshiping you.

Those who seek position often make fools of themselves, and if you want a position, know what comes with it (James 3:1). "Let another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth" (Proverbs 27:2). "Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up" (James 4:10). When you gather with people, seek to serve, not to be seen.

The guest list (vv. 12–14): help people who can't repay you

Then Jesus turns to the host. When you give a dinner, don't just invite your friends, your relatives, and your rich neighbors — they'll invite you back, and that's your reward. "Invite those who are poor, maimed, lame, or blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you; for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous."

We all spend time with people, and we should — fellowship with other believers on a personal level is part of the Christian life. But there's very little goodness in being nice to people who are nice to you, or who can pay you back. Are all your good deeds aimed at people who'll return them, with money or with relationship? Are you concerned about who you're seen with? Are you embarrassed to be with someone who isn't quite your status? You can be repaid by people, or you can be repaid by God. "Let love be without dissimulation" (Romans 12:9). Do you reach out to anyone who can do nothing for you?

The supper (vv. 15–24): the feast is ready

Someone at the table says, "Blessed is the one who will eat bread in the kingdom of God!" — assuming, as they all did, that the kingdom's banquet was for Jews, and all Jews. Jesus answers with a parable. A man prepares a great banquet and invites many. When it's ready he sends his servant to say, "Come, because everything is now ready." And every one of them makes excuses. "I've bought a field and I need to go see it." "I've bought five yoke of oxen and I'm going to try them out." "I just got married, so I can't come." The master is angry, sends the servant into the streets for the poor, the maimed, the blind, and the lame — and there's still room. So he sends him out to the highways and hedges: "Make them come in, so that my house may be filled. For I tell you, not one of those people who were invited will enjoy my banquet."

The supper is the fullness of salvation. The master is God; the invitation went first to Israel. The servant is whoever carries the invitation — the prophets, the apostles, and now everyone who shares the gospel. Notice the guests had prior notice. They'd committed to come, and then made other plans anyway, because they valued a field, some oxen, and a wedding above what was on the table. A meal that size couldn't be saved for later, so the house had to be filled — and the master sent for people who'd never been on the list, all the way out to the hedges, and said compel them. Anyone who will come. And those who refused the invitation didn't get a second seating.

Everything is ready. The excuses haven't changed much in two thousand years — property, work, family, the ordinary good things people put ahead of God. If you've been invited, come. And if you've come, you're the servant now. Go out to the hedges.

Two people are reading this. One of you is holding an invitation you haven't answered. You've got a field, or a job, or a family, and every one of those is a good thing, and not one of them will be at that table. The supper is already paid for. Jesus bought the seat with His own body and then walked out of the grave to prove the invitation is good. There's no second seating and there's nothing left to get ready. Say yes to Him today, right where you're sitting.

The other one of you already came in, which means you're the servant now. So do the hedges thing literally this week. Put someone at your table who can never pay you back — the guy at work nobody eats lunch with, the widow down your road, the family that's a mess. Not a program. A meal.

You took the low seat once. Go find somebody sitting lower.

Related: A lifestyle of evangelism and Moved with compassion.