Rachel Held Evans (1981–2019) retells one of Jesus’ parables as an expansive invitation to come to God’s table:
Jesus once had [a conversation] with a group of religious leaders at the home of a prominent Pharisee. “When you give a banquet,” Jesus said to his host, “invite the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed.” He told them a parable about a man who prepared a banquet and invited many guests. When those on the guest list declined to attend, the man instructed his servant to go into the streets and alleyways in town and bring back the poor, the hungry…. The servant obeyed, but told his master there was still room at the table. “Then go out to the roads and country lanes and compel them to come,” the master said, “so that my house will be full” (Luke 14:12–23). This is what God’s kingdom is like: a bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry, because they said yes. And there’s always room for more.
Evans shares the story of author Sara Miles, whose experience of Jesus through communion inspired her to start a food pantry:
Not only did [Sara] convert to Christianity, she devoted herself entirely to “a religion rooted in the most ordinary yet subversive practice: a dinner table where everyone is welcome, where the despised and outcasts are honored.” [1] Sara partnered with St. Gregory’s [Episcopal Church] to create a massive food pantry, where the poor, elderly, sick, homeless, and marginalized from the community are served each week from the very table where Sara took her first communion—no strings attached, no questions asked. With the saints painted on the walls looking on, hundreds gather around the communion table to fill their bags with fruit, vegetables, rice, cereal … and whatever happens to be in the five-to-six-ton bounty of food that particular Friday.
Evans honors Christ’s transformative presence in the bread and wine.
I don’t know exactly how Jesus is present in the bread and wine, but I believe Jesus is present, so it seems counterintuitive to tell people they have to wait and meet him someplace else before they meet him at the table. If people are hungry, let them come and eat. If they are thirsty, let them come and drink. It’s not my table anyway. It’s not my denomination’s table or my church’s table. It’s Christ’s table. Christ sends out the invitations, and if he has to run through the streets gathering up the riffraff to fill up his house, then that’s exactly what he’ll do….
The gospel doesn’t need a coalition devoted to keeping the wrong people out. It needs a family of sinners, saved by grace, committed to tearing down the walls, throwing open the doors, and shouting, “Welcome! There’s bread and wine. Come eat with us and talk.” This isn’t a kingdom for the worthy; it’s a kingdom for the hungry.
References:
[1] Sara Miles, Take This Bread: A Radical Conversion (Ballantine, 2007), xv.
Rachel Held Evans, Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church (Nelson Books, 2015), 147–149.
Image credit and inspiration: Anastasia Chervinska, untitled (detail), 2022, photo, Unsplash. Click here to enlarge image. Abundance is a table always set, where the meal awaits with quiet grace and there is always enough for all who arrive.
Story from Our Community:
Having grown up in poverty with an alcoholic father and mentally ill mother, I find healing in the natural world that surrounds my house now. My favorite practice is following paths deep into the forest. There, I experience of feeling of Jesus welcoming me with a hug. I find it truly nourishing. I feel blessed to have such generous access to nature.
—Mary W.
