Table Theology

If both the lectionary and the news are anything to go by, it has been a week for hearing about kings sitting down to table with controversial public figures.  The Gospels are, unsurprisingly, full of what some refer to as ‘table theology’ and, through his encounters and decisions made around dining, Jesus is constantly challenging us to question who has been excluded from the feast, who is not being heard or represented at the table, who should be elevated in this topsy-turvy world of the Kingdom, and teaching us how we can experience his life-giving presence through the meal that Jesus left us to remember him by.

But on this feast of St Matthew, we find that it is not what Jesus is doing or speaking about at the table which is the cause of inquisition on this occasion, but simply the fact that he is there at all… eating alongside people that the great, the good, and the sensible would ordinarily do anything to avoid. We are not talking about the people who it is easy to have compassion for; the ones who life has dealt a hard hand, or who truly are victims of circumstance – we are talking about the ones who have made some pretty-terrible life choices in the past, and those who continue to do so.

Tax collectors like Matthew were some of the most reviled among the Jewish population at the time; not just because no-one likes giving up their hard-earned cash, but because tax collectors were seen as colluding with the occupying forces – betraying and extorting money from their own people for the benefit of the oppressive empire (and often with a hefty personal payment on top to line their own pocket). They were perhaps more akin to loan sharks than the present day HMRC.

‘Sinners’ too, referred to in our Gospel, included a group who were ostracised not only for being sinful in the way we all are, something even the Pharisees would admit to, but who were caught in a pattern or lifestyle of sin which they actively chose over righteousness or full participation in honest and decent society. These were the folk you tried to avoid – not who you chose to sit down next to. They were certainly not, who you invited to join your following or your dinner party….But here we find Jesus.

Not only with the lonely, outcast, ill, grieving, hungry, and socially-acceptable-ostracised as found in other stories of Christ’s table antics, but here he is with the ones we don’t really know what to do with. Here is Jesus, sharing the intimacy of a meal with tax collectors and sinners – much to the intrigue of others among his own social class. Against a backdrop of cancel culture, authoritarian leadership, and self-protectionism, it is completely understandable that we should feel the need to distance ourselves from (and even actively-oppose) ideologies which are at odds with Christian values. So why did Jesus not distance himself from the people who embodied these ideologies too? 

‘Speaking truth to power’ is in our heritage as Christians and as people born of the Abrahamic faith. If generations of Prophets and activists had not stood up to the unscrupulously powerful in the past, our present would look very different indeed. In fact, it is when we fail to speak the truth, as we have received it, that we risk colluding with worldly power and becoming part of the problem.

But…If we are to have the courage to speak the truth with wisdom, nuance, and humanity, it is equally important that we are able to listen – to hear the ‘other’ and to honour their worth; even if we cannot, in all good conscience, bring ourselves to agree with their words. In short – we cannot ever expect to engage in fruitful dialogue if we just continuously boycott relationship or refuse to come to the table at all. Yes, we can only come if we are safe enough to do so. But what Jesus forges for us through this encounter with Matthew, is the possibility of relationship built on mutual humanity and shared, unequivocal worth.

Coming to the table for Jesus does not mean collusion – although he is accused of that. It does not mean selling out on his morals or giving up the treasures of his cultural inheritance – although does get quizzed on that. Neither does it mean agreeing with the people he is sat with, or adopting their patterns of dysfunction or sinfulness – although in doing so he is very much judged to be ‘guilty by association’

Coming to the table for Jesus means offering relationship to those who are sick and in need of the Great Physician – and creating that space for transformation, repentance, amendment of life and change which is so sorely needed by all of us. We (of course) are not Jesus – but note that he wasn’t there alone. We, like the disciples, must also sit and eat with those controversial figures we would rather not have to entertain… because it is only through relationship that healing can happen. And we may even find that the encounters that make us most uncomfortable, do so because they expose the places we are most in need of healing in our own lives too.

When he was called, Matthew was quite literally ‘minding his own business’ when Jesus sees him sitting in the tax booth and invites him to follow. Matthew, it seems, goes without hesitation. And it is this willingness of Matthew to take the risk to welcome Jesus, that opened the door to a conversation around a table which could, not only transform Matthew’s life, but could positively affect the lives of those in Matthew’s orbit too.

Without Matthews engagement, willingness to consider another way of being, and recognition of his own sinfulness– he would never have become the Saint we honour this morning. And without our willingness to be honest with ourselves and take the risk of transformation through our relationship with Jesus, we will never become fully who we are called to be either.

If we can allow Jesus in to love the version of us that expend so much energy trying to hide from public view, maybe we will find it easier to love those whose bad life choices are unavoidably more on display. Through his encounter with Jesus, Matthew did not stay as he was. None of the other disciples did either, and none of us can now.

Our encounters inevitably change and shape us – they build the bank of memories and connections we make, form and re-form our values, hone and expand our perspectives, and make us who we are. But who we are is not static – because none of us are the finished article – and we all need a leader to follow – because none of us have ‘done life’ successfully before.

It sounds obvious to say it, but as a bit of a control freak, I have to remind myself daily that to follow Jesus means to allow him to take the lead. I love to have a plan, I love to know what comes next, I’d probably prefer to stay routed to what I know than take the risk of something new. And I’m honestly not sure, if I was sat in that tax booth, whether I would have the guts that Matthew did to walk away from it all and go in search of better treasure than the coins in my hand, and instead put my skills to use in the service of others.

But the invitation is the same for us now as it was for Matthew then; to allow ourselves to be changed by encounter with Jesus. To give up our notion of control over who is ‘in’ or ‘out’, or worthy or not … and to accept that if we are a Church which truly seeks to follow Christ’s example, then the chances are that society probably will be scandalised by who we choose to sit down to dinner with. Amen.