Today's gospel story is . . . difficult. A king throws a wedding banquet for his son, invites people to come, they refuse, he destroys their city, he invites others, then throws one of the newly invited into the outer darkness because he wasn't dressed appropriately. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Our first instinct might be to blame the king for the problems because it certainly seems like he has anger management issues. Burning cities and throwing out invited guests because they refused to come or didn't show up in the right clothes are the actions of an unstable tyrant rather than a benevolent ruler. This story, though, requires us to go deeper than seeing a petulant king.
I'm not going to dig into this story line by line, but I want to focus on a two points instead. Overall this story is about God's abundance and how people react to the message and invitation of God.
The Lord prepares a great feast and invites everyone to attend. The abundance of God is laid out for everyone to take part, no strings attached. Our first reading today gives us an image of that abundance when Isaiah says, “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all people a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines.” It's an image of God's abundance being given to all people. Everyone is invited to the feast and no one will go hungry.
The invitation to come to the feast is there. It is given by God and distributed by us. It is our job to invite all whom we find, both good and bad, into the wedding hall to join in the feast. This is the wedding hall. This is the feast. The feast of God is not only Holy Communion which is a foretaste of that heavenly banquet, but it is also everything we do from our abundance. It's dedicating part of the Harvest Hoedown funds to an outside agency. It's funeral receptions that feed and care for the family. It's working with the food pantry. It's believing that the abundance of God, and the abundance of our lives, are meant to be shared and not hoarded.
But not everyone accepts that invitation. We make light of it. We prioritize our lives in such a way that God isn't important, or only important enough to pay a cursory visit every once in awhile.
At the end of the story we are given an image of a wedding hall filled with guests. The king comes in, sees a man without a wedding robe, and says, “Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?” Receiving no answer, the king has the man bound hand and foot and cast into the outer darkness.
Our first thought, again, might be, “Wait . . . the king invited all these people off the streets. How could this poor guy be expected to have a wedding robe?” But again, this story isn't really about clothes.
Pay attention to the the words spoken. When the king says, “Friend,” that isn't good. Jesus uses “friend” four times in Matthew, and they're all negative. Jesus is called a friend of sinners and tax collectors. In the parable of the generous landowner, one of the grumbling day workers is called friend. The final time in the garden of Gethsemane where Jesus tells Judas, “Friend, do what you came here to do.”
This negative usage is used today for the man who didn't wear a wedding robe. But again, this isn't about clothes.
God is inviting us into the wedding hall to celebrate the wedding of his son with an abundant feast. This is the wedding hall. This is the feast. When we accept that invitation there is an expectation that we change our heart. There is an expectation that we change our lives to live in accordance with God's will.
As Episcopalians we see this in the Baptismal Covenant. Will you continue in the apostles' teaching and fellowship? Will you persevere in resisting evil? Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons? Will you strive for justice and respect the dignity of every human being? Theses aren't suggestions. These are calls to change our lives, to put on that wedding robe of Christ.
Paul talks about something similar in his letter the the Philippians. Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure . . . keep on doing the things you have learned.
The wedding robe is our willingness to be transformed by Christ. The guest who was thrown out refused to be transformed. He refuses to be ruled by anything but himself and his own desires. As Jesus said earlier in Matthew, “Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, lord' will enter the kingdom.” And as he will point out in a few chapters, those welcomed into the kingdom are those who feed the hungry, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger, and care for the sick.
Today's story is an Advent parable. In Advent, remember, we are preparing for the coming of the Messiah – both as a child born in Bethlehem and at the end of the age as the King of kings and Lord of lords. Advent is the season of the already and the not yet. So is this parable.
This parable tells the story of a wedding banquet, an abundant feast, of invitations, and of judgment.
This is the wedding hall. This is the banquet of God. We are the ones invited. We are the ones who do the inviting. This hall is filled with both good and bad. Hopefully we are all working to change, to transform, to be the people Christ asks us to be. So this parable is about the already.
But the end of the age is not yet. This is a vision of things to come. A vision of a feast of rich food and well-aged wines for all people. It is also a recognition that, while all are called, few are chosen. But this isn't a competition. This isn't an open casting call where everyone is invited but only a few are selected. This is is the fact that God invites everyone, but not everyone accepts the invitation.
In this story, this is the hall. This is the banquet. We are both the invitors and the invitees. And we are all faced with the question, “Are we willing to be clothed with Christ and be transformed into who he is calling us to be?” Because if we aren't, then we will find ourselves in a very dark place indeed.
Amen.
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