Full service here.
Pentecost 19A
October 11, 2020
Matthew 22:1-14
INTRODUCTION
Today Jesus continues to share parables meant to challenge the religious elites of the day – but they are no less challenging for us still, in 2020. Today’s parable is particularly difficult, as it paints a picture that seems like it should describe God, inviting everyone to a royal feast, but it ends up looking very little like the God we know and love and worship.
The other three readings are far more immediately edifying. Isaiah will also speak of a rich and satisfying feast, at which God will wipe away tears, and at which we will rejoice and be glad in his salvation. Psalm 23 describes a table set for us in the presence of our enemies, in which our cup will overflow with goodness. Even Philippians, while not about a feast, is about rejoicing, and praise, and relishing in the goodness of Christ, who will guard our hearts and minds, and whose peace surpasses all understanding.
Hold tightly to the promises you hear in those first three readings, friends. Then, as you listen to the difficult gospel lesson, be guided by the question that best guides all of Jesus’ parables: what does this story show us about who God is, or perhaps, who God isn’t. Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
I’ll admit, this is not my favorite parable. As I struggled with it this week, I looked back to previous years of sermons for inspiration, and turns out, I have never preached on it. And no wonder: just looking at the gruesome details of the story itself, with its violence, destruction, and judgment, it is… not a very uplifting story.
And then there is the interpretation of it. The traditional reading is an allegory in which the king is God, the original guests are the Jews, the servants are prophets, and those who finally do come (and commit to wearing the right clothes) are the gentiles who come to Christ and commit to their baptismal promises (a wedding garment was likely not unlike a baptismal garment). It is straightforward, simple, but the supersession of the Jews with that reading is troubling. What it comes down to for me, really, is that if the king is supposed to be God here… then that is a God who is not familiar to me. Where is the mercy, the compassion? The slowness to anger, and the abounding in steadfast love? The king in this parable is more like the tyrannical kings, like Herod, that Jesus spoke out against. Why would the kingdom of God be compared to that sort of king?
I found some hope in one commentary I read this week that said that while we can’t simply dismiss an allegorical reading, we also don’t need to take it as the only reading. This interpretation may well have worked for Matthew in his particular ecclesial community, but for us 2000 years later, we may need a different interpretive lens to see the life and good news here.
So, let’s shake it off for a second, shake off any baggage about this parable, and then maybe turn the parable upside down or sideways, to see it from a different angle, with new eyes, and see what God might be saying to us today. We know that Jesus often told explosive and exaggerated stories to make his point more obvious, so that’s likely happening here. We also know the good news of Christ does not secure our salvation and comfort at the expense of others, but rather, is inclusive, radical, and often disruptive and earth-shattering. (In fact, just a few chapters after this, Matthew’s version of the resurrection story will actually include an earthquake – the good news is literally earth-shaking!) So how might we find this good news, this life-giving, earth-shattering Jesus, in the story?
Let’s start with this possibility: what if the king is not the God figure in this story? I mean, just picture this scene: the king in this story is so thin-skinned, he would use his armies against his own people, beating them down, killing them, and burning down the city, all to appease his wounded ego after no one showed up for his party. (And by the way, why wouldn’t people accept an invitation to a royal wedding? What’s up with that? Who would pass that up, unless it was some sort of protest? Or maybe fear?) Then, having filled the people with the fear of retribution, he coerces them to come to his party, celebrate his son, and have a good time doing it, doggone it – even as his armies are wreaking havoc and destruction on their city right outside. This is all horrifying to imagine, but then the clincher, this king throws one guest out, bound, into the outer darkness, simply for not dressing right, for not following the rules? Isn’t God all about helping those who lack, healing the sick in body and spirit, and bringing in the outcasts and sinners – not casting them out into the outer darkness?
Does this sound like our God? It sounds more to me like some of the tyrannical earthly leaders of the world, than our loving God of compassion and life.
So, if the king isn’t God, who is the God figure in this parable?
What if… it is that one guest who will not submit to the terms of this tyrannical king, the one who refuses to wear a wedding garment for this forced celebration? The one whose silent resistance renders the king speechless, and brings this whole sham banquet to a standstill? The one courageous guest who is willing to be “bound hand and foot” and thrown out into the outer darkness – into Gethsemane, Calvary, the cross, the grave – rather than accept the authority and tyranny of a violent and loveless king?
Now, I may be way off. This may not at all be how Matthew intended this parable to be read. But parables don’t have a “correct” interpretation; their purpose is to draw us in, to help us to see God and know God. Some parables show us who God is, and some parables show us who God isn’t. And the God I know, whom I love and who has loved me immeasurably though I frequently miss God’s invitations, or show up without my proverbial wedding garment, that God does not look like the king in this story. My God looks much more like the one willing to sacrifice everything to stare down the tyrants and boldly say, “No. This is not of God, and I will not submit to it.” And, we know, our God will not, finally be defeated by a mere outer darkness, but will find a way to turn even that into new life.
God does look like this king in one way, though: our God, too, invites us to the king’s banquet. But the banquet to which our God invites us is one of grace. It is one that says, “Come as you are, come ready to receive God’s gracious love and forgiveness.” As our hymn in a moment will say, God’s celebration is one in which we are “dressed no more in spirit somber, clothed instead in joy and wonder; for the Lord of all existence, putting off divine transcendence, stoops again in love to meet us, with his very life to feed us.” That is our God: who loves us and feeds us with his very life, forgiving our sins and inviting us into life everlasting.
This God is trustworthy and true, my friends. As many of you receive the bread and wine, the concrete expressions of this promise, today after worship, know that you receive Christ himself, regardless of whatever burdens you bear. If you do not receive these physical elements this day, know that you, too, are inheritors of this promise: forgiveness of sin, life, and salvation. Thanks be to God.
Let us pray… Loving, gracious God, you invite us to the wedding feast that has no end, as we celebrate the love, forgiveness, and everlasting life given to us by your Son. Thank you for stooping to meet us once again, and for feeding us with your very life. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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