As a former leader in the Messianic movement, Tzvi is still on the mailing list of several followers of Jesus. Here is an article sent to Tzvi by a Christian and it is followed by Tzvi’s short but powerful reply.
The Christian’s Article
We typically fill our parties with people similar to ourselves. We invite into our homes those we work with, play with, or otherwise have something in common with. We celebrate with fellow graduates, entertain people from our neighborhoods, and open our doors to four year-olds when our own is turning four. Psychologists concur: we socialize with those in our circles because we have some ring of similarity that connects us.
The man in the parable of the great banquet is no different. The story is told in Luke chapter 14 of an affluent master of ceremonies who had invited a great number of people like himself to a meal. The list was likely distinguished; the guests were no doubt as prosperous socially as they were financially. Jesus sets the story at a critical time for all involved. The invitations had long been sent out and accepted. Places were now set; the table was now prepared. All was ready. Accordingly, the owner of the house sent his servant to bring in the guests. But none would come.
Anthropologists characterize the culture of Jesus’s day as an “honor/shame” society, where one’s quality of life was directly affected by the amount of honor or shame socially attributed to him or her. The public eye was paramount; every interaction either furthered or diminished one’s standing, honor, and regard in the eyes of the world.
Thus, in this parable, the master of the banquet had just been deliberately and publicly shamed. He was pushed to the margins of society and treated with the force of contempt. Hearers of this parable would have been waiting with baited breath to hear how this man would attempt to reclaim his honor. But in fact, the master of the feast did not attempt to reverse his public shame. Altogether curiously, he embraced it.
Turning to the slave, the owner of the house appointed the servant with a new task. “Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city, and the poor and maimed and lame and blind bring in here” (Luke 14:21). Returning, the servant reported, “Lord it has all occurred as you ordered, and still there is room” (v. 22). So the owner of the house responded again, “Go out into the waves and hedges and compel them to come in, that my house may be filled” (23).
The slave is told to do what he must to compel the masses to come, liberating the blind, the lame, and the excluded of their social status and stigma with an invitation to dine with none other than the master. It is a staggering portrayal of a God who is shamed by the rejection of his people, and yet continues to respond with unfathomable grace and profound invitation into his presence. The owner of the house has opened wide the doors. The feast is ready—and there is yet room.
The longing to belong in the right circles is a desire that touches us all. Even so, one only has to watch a group of kids on playground to see how easily our desire to belong is corrupted by our need to exclude. The inner circle is not inner if there are no outsiders. Lines of honor and shame are futile if the majority is not on the wrong side. But in this story, God has broken these lines of demarcation. The Father forever challenges the notion that his house will be filled only with the rich or the righteous or those without shame.
The banquet is ready and there is a call to fill the house with the lost and unworthy, the homeless, the blind, and the out-of-place. The invitation of Christ is wide enough to scour the darkest of hedges and the depths of the city streets. Whether we find ourselves outside of the circle because we have rejected him or at the table communing with his guests, it is a good word to digest: the kingdom of God is like a great banquet. God’s compulsion is our nourishment. The feast is ready and there is still room.
My reply to this paper is that having spent many years in Christianity, I rarely if ever saw the poor maimed and blind invited to anyones home except the soup kitchens where the alcoholics and drug addicts had to listen to a sermon before being served something to eat. Yet in most Orthodox synagogues you will hear the announcement every Sabbath. ” If you do not have a place for Sabbath dinner let me know as we have many families that would be glad to have you.” The truth of the matter is that in many respects JEWS ALREADY DO many things that Jesus himself taught, but Christians just believe on him
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Yisroel C. Blumenthal
Did you email this reply back to the people who sent it out? It would be interesting to see their response.
I know that at my Synagogue, no guest will ever leave on a Shabbat without being offered a place for a meal
I have left Christianity for Judaism wholeheartedly, but my experience is that in my old church community, hospitality was very real and sincere.