Now this sort of thing sure got my attention. "It goes from zero to eighty-two miles per hour ... in 1.8 seconds. Your body is subjected to four times the force of gravity ... in 1.8 seconds." This is no fighter jet lifting off from a carrier. This is no rocket, aimed high at the moon. Going zero to eighty-two miles per hour in 1.8 seconds is a roller coaster at Cedar Point, Ohio. This coaster possesses speed in spades. My palms get sweaty even thinking about climbing into one of those things. I'm the kid in the playground sandbox watching the kids on the swings as they shouted, "Look at me, Mommy, see how high I can go!" I wouldn't have couched it in these terms when I was that kid in the sandbox, but I intuitively knew I did not want my upward mobility to result in a downward disability! Most of us know people who live for that adrenaline rush which the combination of speed and height has to offer. And if they can't get that "rush" at the amusement park, they sometimes find less healthy ways to accomplish their "high."

But it is an upward mobility of a different sort that even more people crave. "Look at me, people, see how high I can go!" It is the theme for the dinner party in our Gospel text, as dinner guests, out of harmony with one another, play a serious game of musical chairs ... each striving for a place of honor. We might say that most of the guests possess an attitude of altitude ... they think more highly of themselves than they ought!

Now certainly we all ought to strive for a healthy sense of self-esteem, but this goes beyond. An attitude of altitude is the upward mobility by which people need to feel more powerful, more important, more worthy than others and - just see how high I can go! The attitude of altitude led Eve and Adam to their dinner party of forbidden fruit ... wanting to "be like God." The attitude of altitude caused Cain to kill his brother Abel, in an attempt to be closer than Abel to God. The attitude of altitude causes dinner guests in the Gospel text to scramble towards seats of honor, forgetting a basic truth: self praise is no praise.

And so we happen across this story of Jesus at a dinner party. The White House has someone called the Chief of Protocol. His job is a tricky one ... for it is he who decides who sits where at official state dinners. Not in ancient Palestine, where the seating arrangements are somewhat up for grabs. When you enter the banquet room, you do so with sweaty palms because you knew that your social standing might be dependent on how close you can sit to the host. This afternoon, in our banquet hall at the far side of the building, there is going to be a wedding reception for Tara Stahl. Maybe you saw the name cards in the hallway with the dreaded table assignments. About four years ago I was at a reception and heading toward my seat, and a lady saw me from a distance and said to her husband, a bit too loudly, "Oh God, Ed, you'll never guess who they sat with us!" She realized I had overheard and started to apologize but I said, "Oh don't apologize, I wouldn't want to be seated next to the pastor." I have to say, no table group at the wedding that evening had a better time.

That's not how it worked in ancient Palestine, however. There are no name cards in the foyer to guide Joseph ben Yehuda to his proper place. If Joseph ben Yehuda is anything like me, he just wants to sit as far from the band as possible. The desired seat, though, is as close to the host as possible. Those close to the host can boast that they are a bit more important, and thus "higher" in stature than the poor fellow the next seat over. Does that happen today? Watch at the light at Route Six when you leave, and watch the cars going toward Baldwin Place. When the drivers realize that two lanes are merging into one, each one thinks of himself as Dale Ernhardt and every Ford is now a Ferrari. The game is to get just one car length ahead of the car in the next lane over. And then everyone crawls on toward Mahopac.

At any rate, Jesus is watching as the guests scurry and scramble to secure places of honor - musical chairs without the music. But it is no game. It never is merely a game when people are so insecure about themselves that they constantly need to "prove" themselves. This is deadly serious stuff for those who take themselves deadly seriously!

After observing all this social climbing, Jesus tells a parable with a punch-line: "For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." And this saying goes against the grain of human nature ... for who among us is keen about humility? Somebody once wrote, "Humility is a virtue all preach, none practice, and yet everybody is content to hear. The master thinks it is good doctrine for his servant. The laity think it is good for the clergy to be humble; the clergy feel the same about the laity."

There is good reason to be humble however. As St. Paul points out in Romans 3: "for there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." And you don't hear people walking about, proud as a peacock, "Hey, I'm a bigger sinner than you!" There are some things, after all, about which we are rightfully humble. Given we share a common humanity - and a common sinfulness - it must have taken away the appetite of Jesus, as he noted the distasteful scurrying for seats of honor!

You people of Grace, and you who worship with us, are people of accomplishment. You have your achievements and your attainments ... education, good jobs, fine houses, nice cars. And yet I seldom, if ever, hear any of you saying, "Look at me; see how high I can go." At least not on a Sunday morning. In fact, you seem content to come to the altar as equals, each with empty hands, as you receive first bread, and then wine. God gives you the food for a more abundant life - first bread, and then wine. In terms of things that really matter in this life, what you receive at the Lord's table is more nourishing than the cuisine at the finest of restaurants. For here you get, first bread and then wine. And you recognize once more, that you have been bestowed a greater honor - for you kneel in the presence of the Host. The same Jesus, who shall one day extend to you that most sacred of invitations, "Higher, my child, come up higher." Now that is an upward mobility to catch our attention!