October 11 2020 Sermon
P19A 2020 Matthew 22:1-14
Several years ago I had one of those summers where almost every weekend was a wedding, and all the wedding venues were different: one in a church, one at a camp, one at a vineyard, one at the beach. One couple confused their guests by including on the invitation a cryptic message about tasteful attire instead of using the familiar lingo of casual, cocktail, formal, black tie, and so forth to describe the expected dress code. In hindsight, I don’t know why we didn’t just call them directly and ask, but instead all of us guests called each other to see if anyone knew what the couple wanted us to wear to their wedding, or at least what everyone else was wearing so there would be strength in numbers. I’m sure all that anxiety was the opposite of the couple’s intent: I expect that they wanted people to look nice for the pictures but that they didn’t pick a rigid category so that nobody would feel like they had to go out and buy something brand new just to attend. It’s also worth noting that these are some of the most laid back, down to earth people that I know, so had someone shown up in sweatpants they probably would have just appreciated that they had made the trip. The wedding was beautiful and everybody looked just fine, if not perfectly uniform. But I wonder, if my friends could be gracious about their big day, what in the world is going on with the king in today’s parable kicking out a guest for not wearing a wedding robe.
Really none of the characters in this parable behave the way we would expect. A wedding for the king’s son, the prince, might be the social occasion of the decade; there is no way all the invited guests would want to miss it. Although it would be embarrassing to the king to host a party nobody attends, it is also humiliating for him to beg a second time for the guests to come. If for no other reason than to protect their place on the social ladder, the invited guests should show up, but not only do they continue to ignore the king, they kill the servants who brought the invitation. Then the king burns their cities in retribution. That the king is willing to fill the banquet hall with strangers, good and bad, seems a bit bizarre—and we might not be surprised that if the servants collected people off of the streets that one of them didn’t get the message about proper attire. Still, it would seem that everyone else found a robe or was given a robe, yet this person chose to attend the wedding but disregard the dignity of the occasion. He gives no explanation for his negligence, so the king sends him back out into the street.
From our modern perspective, we might think the king goes overboard, but if we we compare him to other earthly rulers, he’s pretty consistent with the way those in power usually act. In the past month I’ve watched two shows about European monarchies in the 16th and 17th centuries, and those kings had no problem smiting not only their enemies but even friends who ended up on their bad side. Yet what in the world do we do with this parable if it is, as Jesus explains, a comparison to the kingdom of heaven and the king is therefore analogous to God?
First go back to the beginning and notice that the king, The King, keeps inviting people in; even after they decline, he keeps inviting them, showing them the preparations he has made for their benefit. He doesn’t force them against their will, but he is persistently inviting. It’s not until the guests not only decline but do violence to his messengers that he becomes angry—rightfully so, we might agree. Yet he still keeps inviting—a wider invitation this time, to those we might not expect or think should be there. Jesus even says that both good and bad people are invited in. The king only removes the man without the robe when he has no explanation for being at the wedding but not really celebrating the wedding—not wearing the robe that would show his gracious acceptance of the king’s invitation. Even then, the king doesn’t so much punish the man as he excuses him from the party in which he clearly doesn’t want to participate. He doesn’t force the man into a robe—he sends him back to where no robe is expected. The king may be exceedingly open in his invitation, but that doesn’t mean that anything goes among those who come to the feast.
The question we always want to ask is where do we find ourselves in the parable? We may have gotten our invitation right from the beginning, but we think of a lot of excuses for not answering God’s call to daily participate in kingdom living. We might think of ourselves as the servants who have been sent to recruit others for the feast, frustrated that they won’t come with us or even hurt by how they treat us. We might feel like we got the invitation a little later than others, just relieved to have been pulled in off the street into a pretty wonderful party. And there are times when we might feel like we’re wandering around without a robe—knowing what is expected of us, but for one reason or another, resisting being covered by God’s grace or neglecting God’s call to righteousness that comes with the garment of Christian baptism. But the one character I’m confident that we are not meant to be is the king. Only The King gets to determine what to do when someone is walking around with no robe. It’s not our job either to assess another’s attire or to take it upon ourselves to kick them out; of course, we shouldn’t try to follow them out into the darkness either.
God won’t force our hand, but we are always called to live in God’s kingdom ideals, empowered by the Spirit for that living, and forgiven when we wander off. We’re not going to accidentally get thrown out into cold; if we feel like that’s where we already are, it’s because we’ve chosen to go there, and the God who loves us too much to constrain us, gives us the freedom to go. May we instead use our freedom in Christ to answer God’s invitation and celebrate the Son who has shown us the way.