The Parable of the
Invitation
11 October 2020: 8
a.m. Said Mass on the Labyrinth;
10 a.m. Said Mass with
Cantors live-streamed from the Chancel
Proper 23A
The Rev. Fr. Tony
Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D.
Parish of Trinity,
Ashland (Oregon)
8:00 am said; 10 am
sung Mass
Isaiah
25:1-9
Psalm 23 Philippians
4:1-9
Matthew
22:1-14
God, give us hearts
to feel and love.
Take away our hearts
of stone and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.
What
in the world was that Gospel reading about?
If a king invites a whole lot of people to a party and he’s so scary
that everyone finds a polite excuse to get out of it, there’s something wrong
with that king. And if you dragoon me in
from the street as a party stuffer for all the No RSVPs you have received, only
to humiliate and shame me for not wearing just the right clothes, and then
throw me out, there’s something the matter with you.
Matthew’s
Jesus starts it with “the kingdom of heaven is like….” But remember that this isn’t saying that king
is somehow God. The phrase means
something more like “Let me tell you a story that will help you see how God
rules over us.”
The
king here is clearly a psycho, totally self-absorbed and narcissistic. This is how Nero, Caligula, or some petty but
nasty dictator in a banana republic throws parties. By seeing how bad such “hospitality” is, we see
maybe what God’s invitations are like by contrast.
Matthew
was written just after Vespasian destroyed the Jewish homeland and its
Temple. The Gospel writer suffers from
serious post-traumatic stress syndrome.
And he is the only Gospel that pictures Jesus teaching clearly “from
John the Baptist until now, the Kingdom of Heaven has been suffering violence
and the violent continue to take it by force” (Matthew 11:12).
Once
again, Matthew has taken a parable from Jesus and added all sorts of details to
turn it into an allegory, changing its meaning in the process. Like last week, the earlier form of the
parable is preserved in the Gospel of Luke and the non-canonical Gospel of
Thomas.
It
originally ran this way:
A
rich man gave a great dinner to which he invited many guests. When all was
ready, he sent his servant to summon the guests. But one by one, they all gave
excuses for not coming. Hearing this, the rich man commanded his servant, ‘Go
out quickly into the streets and alleys and bring in anyone you find. I want my
great hall to be filled for the banquet.’
Most of Jesus’ audience knew that a great banquet was a big scriptural image
for God’s future saving act. Even though
many passages said, like today’s Isaiah reading, that this banquet would be for
all nations (Isaiah 25:7), many teachers said that it would be an exclusive
event limited to God’s people only.
Jesus
replied to such a stingy image of God with parables. He points to the weather
and says that God gives his rain and sunshine to both good and bad people alike
(Matt. 5:45). He points to families and
notes that when children ask for bread to eat, parents do not give them stones,
or when they ask for an egg to eat, do not give them a scorpion, or when a
fish, not a snake. “If even average parents try to give their children good
things, how much more generous will God be?” (Matt. 7:9-10; Luke 11:11-13)
And Jesus’ actions matched his words. He regularly ate and drank with people
declared contagiously unclean by his religion.
He welcomed them. He tells
people to accept God’s invitation without fear or anxiety. “Don’t worry about how you’re clothed,” he
says, “the wild flowers are prettier than King Solomon all decked out, without
any worries at all.” When he sends the
apostles out, he tells them to just take one change of clothes and no more, to
accept people’s hospitality, not be picky about their food, and eat whatever
their hosts give them.
He
asks Martha, driven to distraction about getting every little detail of her
dinner for Jesus just right, whether she might relax a little, and focus on the
one thing that will give her joy, like her sister Mary. I heard this text preached this weak by
Archbishop Melissa Skelton at the annual convocation of my religious
order. She said,
“We are all worried to
distraction about getting things right: the technical live-stream feeds and
zoom meetings, all the safety and hygiene rules for reengaging our buildings. These are things we should worry about, but
not to distraction. If it had been me, I
would not have asked Jesus, like Martha, to make my sister carry her weight in
the worry game. I would have asked Jesus
to just fix it. But that is not the
savior we are given. He is there with us
in our sorrows, fear, and worries, but we must not expect him to fix things at
our beck and call. We can only, like
Mary, look at him, listen to him, and be strengthened by his intentions and
presence.”
Jesus’ original parable tells the story of the host forced by RSVP “regrets” to
drag in people from off the street to say God’s banquet is open to all. It’s all about grace. But Matthew adds all the nasty details about
a psychopathic king and invitees scared to death of getting things wrong, and
that poor guy without proper wedding clothes thrown out into the street bound
hand and foot. He is trying to explain
that no matter how gracious God’s invitation, we need to be attentive and
intentional in accepting it. Matthew’s
image of having proper clothes for the wedding becomes in the Gospel of Thomas
a symbol of whether we have actually truly accepted God’s gift.
At
Caesar’s party, where all is fear and stress, if anyone is like that guy thrown
out it is Jesus himself. Jesus was
taken outside the city wall and nailed to a cross because he just was not up to
snuff when it came for giving proper respect to Rome.
God
is a kind and loving host, and invites us all.
There is no need for stress or anxiety. The good news in this is
that God’s invitation is not like Caesar’s.
God is not a psycho killer. We
need not fear.
But
in order to accept God’s invitation, we have to be open to receive it. St.
Augustine says, ‘God gives where He finds open hands.’ You can't receive the
gift if your hands are already full, or are clenched tight.
In yet another parable, Jesus compares God’s kingdom to a narrow path and a
tight gate, which at any given time only a few can manage to squeeze through
(Matt 7:13-14). This is because in order to get through such a tight fit,
people have to be willing to abandon all the baggage they are carrying, whether
riches, resentments, self-will, sins, or even what appears to be good things if
they are getting in the way.
What
does accepting grace, freely offered, look like in practical terms?
It looks like me admitting that I am helpless and hopeless. It sounds like the
sincere phrase “I am sorry and I humbly repent.” It feels like Martin Luther’s
heartfelt cry, “I am yours Lord, save me.”
I
myself have known God’s grace. All was
hopeless and helpless, through my own “thoughtlessness, weakness, through my
own deliberate fault.” I found that I
had to accept my own powerlessness and turn it all over to God. And keep doing
that, each day. Gradually, steadily, God
worked wonderful changes. I am still far from what God wants. But I live each
day in gratitude.
I know that many of you have had similar experiences. You have told me your
stories. We need to continue in faith
and gratitude, and share the invitation to the party through our actions and
words.
If you have not had such an experience, then please listen to this call to
God’s banquet, you random passerby on the street, and come it to the party. The tickets are free. But they are not
cheap. Once it the door and settled at the table, we must continue to respond
to Jesus’ beckoning call. This means
amending our ways, making up as far as it is possible for our misdoings. It means trying to be our best selves, being
a bit better today than yesterday, this year than last.
The
banquet is priceless, the bread the finest, and the wine, a vintage that makes
our hearts gladder than any other. Come to the banquet, don’t be afraid. And, without sinking into fear or anxiety,
let’s try to dress appropriately.
In
the name of Christ, Amen.
