Luke 14.1, 7-14
1On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely.
7When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honour, he told them a parable. 8‘When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honour, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; 9and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, “Give this person your place,” and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. 10But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, “Friend, move up higher”; then you will be honoured in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. 11For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.’
12He said also to the one who had invited him, ‘When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbours, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. 13But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. 14And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.’
Sermon by Bishop of Whitby (heart attack on holiday in Italy)
DID THE monk in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, actually come from Rochester, just under 30 miles from London and about the same distance from Canterbury itself? |
| This is not an original suggestion. Anyone who knows the interior of Rochester Cathedral will be familiar with its 13th-century mural, which depicts onthe wheel of fortune the rise of the humble and theunseating of the proud (left). So perhaps it is obvious to ask whether this painting is what inspired the monk's tale: In Tragic Manner I will now lament in high degree And fell at last with no expedient keep his hold; true and old. Our less-than-cheerful monk is preoccupied with calamity. He starts with the fallen angel, Lucifer, turns next to Adam, warms to his theme with Sampson, and on he goes in the same vein. Only one woman features in his list: the third-century Queen of Palmyra, Zenobia. Those interested in gender issues might also note with interest that it is a woman, Fortuna, who controls the wheel that raises some and topples others. |
Chaucer's host prods the monk into telling his tale, noting: "Why, look! We've almost got to Rochester!" Was this because the monk came from the ancient Benedictine monastery there, or was it because the Bishop of Rochester at that time, Thomas Brinton, was a stern critic of monastic laxity? We shall probably never know, and it may not matter. What is of interest is the extent to which the wheel of fortune was a common theme in medieval decorative and devotional art. This theme draws on an aspect of life that Jesus outlines in today's Gospel, but recurs throughout his teaching. Investment in the esteem of this world is folly: in God alone can lasting value be found. Later in his Gospel, Luke records Jesus saying that "all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but those who humble themselves will be exalted" (Luke 18.14). A similar point is made by the many sayings that use childlikeness to illustrate the character of the Kingdom. Jesus is quoted in Matthew's Gospel as saying that "whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 18.4). Indeed, the image of self-abasement is the example Jesus himself sets: "whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many" (Matthew 20.27-28). What is interesting about the fresco at Rochester is its location at the head of the monastic quire that is still in use and preserves stalls that date from 1227. The painting was done about 20 years later. The Rule of St Benedict requires its followers "to look death daily in the eye". Benedict describes death in this instance as "suspectam", something suspect and unreliable, striking at any moment without warning. This could appear to contrast with the regular pattern of monastic life, which seems to guarantee security and even status within an ordered community. But, passing the fresco on the north wall of the quire several times a day, the monks at Rochester were reminded that status bestowed by fortune in this world, even in a monastery, is a fickle thing. It is a lesson Benedict had learned in the Gospel as we heard it today, and wished to pass on to his spiritual children. Although Luke presents the story of how to behave at a banquet as a parable (Luke 14.7), the content of what Jesus says is commonly found elsewhere in advice on table manners. The observation from Rabbi Hillel, an older contemporary of Jesus, about meal-time behaviour is: "My humiliation is my exaltation, and my exaltation is my humiliation." Jesus is also asking his disciples to learn the manners of what it means to behave in a way that characterises a kingdom of service, not supremacy. One imagines that the painting of fortune's wheel in the monastic quire of Rochester was intended to inspire the members of that community to learn good manners. These would be manners that reflected the behaviour of people living and building a civilisation of love. Jesus turns ordinary comment on table manners into a parable about the value system of the Kingdom. We might respond by asking what good manners we should practise, in church and beyond, in order to reveal these values. In a religious community, eating together is the extension of praying together. Courtesy, the needs of others, the pace of the slowest, patient requests, and gracious thanks - these considerations all contribute to the regulation of the common life in Christ. What are our basic manners like? Who models for us the good manners that honour the weakest and calmly resist deference to the strongest? And how does our liturgical and devotional life foster these discipline among us? |
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