October 12, 2014 – The 18th
Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 23A
© 2014 Evan D. Garner
I see that you’ve come to
church today. Well done. This is a holiday weekend, so lots of people are
either out of town or just lying around their house doing nothing because they
figure we’ll assume that they are out of town. But since you’re here, give
yourself a pat on the back.
But, before you congratulate
yourself too robustly, take a look at what you are wearing. Are you in a suit
and tie? A nice dress? A jacket and open collar? Pants and a polo shirt? Jeans?
Sweatpants? Pajamas? I wore my favorite white, um, robe and green scarf. What
about you? When you got dressed this morning, what were you thinking about?
Will it look nice? Will it fit? Will I look cute? Did I wear that last week?
How many of us, when we picked out our outfit, thought to ourselves, “I’m going
to have dinner with Jesus; I want to look my best?”
As Episcopalians, part of
the challenge we face is helping newcomers feel welcome. Things here can be a
little bit stuffy. Nothing about our worship space says, “Be comfortable and
relax.” We have an air of formality about us, and we’re proud of that. But, at
the same time, we want new families to feel like they can come to church just
as they are. We believe that God welcomes all people—good and bad, rich and
poor, elegant and shabby—and we should to. And, if he walked through that door,
I hope that every single one of us would slide over and make room for a ragged,
stinky homeless guy in dirty jeans and a sweat-stained shirt.
So why, then, does Jesus
tell a parable about the kingdom in which the king throws an underdressed
attendant out “into the outer darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing
of teeth?”
For the most part, the first
three quarters of the parable make sense. The kingdom of God is like a king who
threw a wedding banquet for his son. But, for a myriad of reasons, the invited
guests refused to come. It did not matter that the feast was lavish or that the
king pleaded with the guests to attend. Those who had been invited responded
hostilely to the king’s invitation, so the king, in his rage, destroyed those
murderers and gave the banquet to others. He sent his slaves into the streets
to bring in all whom they could find—both good and bad—and the banquet hall was
filled with new faces.
That part we understand. When
he told this parable, Jesus was speaking to the Pharisees—the religious elites
of his day, the insiders who thought they had a straight path into God’s
kingdom. But Jesus came to challenge that sense of entitlement. He spent his
time having dinner with tax collectors and sinners—the kind of street-people
who in the parable ended up filling the king’s banquet hall. We know that the
story of the cross and empty tomb is a testament of God’s saving love for the
lost. Those of us whom society would shut out of the messianic banquet are
enthusiastically welcomed by the king of kings. God’s table is set for sinners
like you and me, and he beckons us to come to the great wedding feast. But it
seems that we’d better remember the dress code.
When the king came into
the feast to greet his guests, he noticed that one of them was not wearing a
wedding robe. “Friend,” he asked, “how did you get in here without a wedding
robe?” But the guest was speechless. So the king said to his servants, “Bind
this man hand and foot and throw him out into the outer darkness.” Remember,
this was a man whom the king’s slaves had found in the street and invited in. Unlike
the original invitees, this is someone who actually showed up. And what is Jesus’
explanation for this surprisingly harsh behavior? “Many are called, but few are
chosen.” How unsatisfying!
So what did you wear to
church today? Even though it’s a holiday weekend, did you dress for the
messianic banquet? Did you remember to wear your wedding robe? Or will we need
to ask the ushers to bind you hand and foot and throw you out into the outer
not-so-darkness?
Of course, the wedding
robe is just an image. It’s a metaphor for something more important than
clothing. Jesus doesn’t care what we wear to church. He cares about our
commitment to the kingdom. The troubling part about this parable—and the
shocking truth about God’s kingdom—is that, even though the invitation is cast
far and wide, the requirements for participation in the kingdom are limitless.
As one commentator put it, “The unlimited grace of the kingdom always brings
with it unlimited demand.”[1]
God invites us into his kingdom with no regard for who we are—good or bad, rich
or poor, elegant or shabby—but, once we answer that invitation, he expects us
to give him everything we’ve got. And anyone who comes into the kingdom
thinking that he or she can rely on the gracious nature of the invitation to
skip over any need to give of him or herself, Jesus has a word for you: “Bind
that person hand and foot to be thrown into the outer darkness.”
Usually, here at St.
John’s, when I make the announcements, I invite all followers of Jesus to come
to Communion. That is supposed to sound like a gracious and far-reaching
invitation because that is the same way that God invites us to his table. The
small print in the bulletin, however, will remind you that in our church only
baptized Christians may take Communion. Now, it doesn’t matter where you were
baptized or what denomination you belong to. It doesn’t matter how long it’s
been since you’ve been to church, and it certainly doesn’t matter what you’re
wearing. But baptism remains the prerequisite because baptism is the way that we
understand how an individual seeks transformation in Jesus.
In the waters of baptism,
we are washed clean from our sin and reborn to new life in Christ. In the
twenty-first century, there might be ways for an individual to undergo that
kind of transformation besides sprinkling water on one’s head in the name of
the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, but the point is that you may not come to
that table unless you are looking to be reborn. This is not a casual gathering
for anyone who wants a little snack. This is a foretaste of the heavenly
banquet. The invitation might be open, but the expectation is total commitment.
You cannot participate in God’s kingdom unless you are willing to give him your
all, and the same is true every time we receive Holy Communion.
Jesus says to each one of
us, “Come into my kingdom,” but, then, in response to that invitation, we must
live a kingdom life. We are sinners in need of redemption. We are street-people
in need of inclusion. How amazing it is that God would invite you and me to
dine at his table! But we must never take his grace for granted. Every day we
must remember that we are not worthy because of who we are. We are made worthy
only because God loves us. Before you come to the table, ask yourself whether
you will seek to live a kingdom life. Look at what you’re wearing—on the inside—and
ask whether you’re ready to give God everything you’ve got. Amen.
[1]
2008. Snodgrass, Klyne R. Stories with
Intent: A Comprehensive Guide to the Parables of Jesus. Eerdmans.
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