Matthew 22:1-14
There’s a good chance you are familiar with this parable. But I’m going to venture a guess that you didn’t remember that part about the man who forgot his wedding robe. You know, the guy who was thrown into the outer darkness because he was dressed inappropriately? Did you forget that detail? I know I try to.
If I preach or teach on the parable of the banquet, I usually choose Luke’s version, because it doesn’t have all this nastiness, all this violence. Luke’s is the G-rated version of this parable, the “good news” that goes down easily, whereas Matthew tells a story that gets caught in our throats. Typical of Matthew.
Yet, we might have conflicting feelings about this story. I think there are elements of the parable that are very appealing to us, elements that resonate with our lives. We know how it feels to plan an event and having people not show up. On the other hand, we understand being in the position of having committed to something ahead of time that, all of a sudden, feels like a burden we would like to get out of. These things are everyday kinds of experiences.
But it is a lot harder to relate to the violence that ensues. The invited guests are so put out about the fact that they are being summoned to a banquet they don’t really want to attend, they actually kill the messenger. The king is so offended by the actions of these invited guests that he sends in his troops to burn the city – his city. And, in the end, when the banquet is finally happening – with the good, the bad, and the ugly – is the king content? No. He zeros in on one man who was dressed inappropriately and orders him to be thrown into the outer darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth (a phrase that Matthew seems very fond of.) It all feels like so much overreaction. What do we do?
We might do one of two things:
We might look away. Forget about the ugly stuff in this parable. Take a sharpie to the text and black out all the offending verses. Or, if you’re not comfortable defacing in your Bible, just flip over to Luke and read that version (it’s in chapter 14). It’s a little challenging, but manageable compared to this one.
Or if we cannot look away, blot it out, turn the page, maybe we push up our sleeves and get to work trying to get a handle on this business of invitations and murder and destruction and weeping and gnashing of teeth. And if we do, we might learn a few things.
We might learn that in the cultures of the mid-east, it was customary to extend two invitations – the initial invitation to give the host a head count and the follow up invitation when the feast is ready to eat. Refusing the second invitation is quite rude, the same as going to someone’s house for dinner and then when you are summoned to the table suddenly saying you have other stuff to do and walking out the door.
And we might learn that in that same culture it was customary for the host to provide a wedding robe for each guest. So this guy not dressed appropriately? it isn’t as if he didn’t have the right garment. Unless, perhaps, he was a wedding crasher?
We might also learn that a common interpretation of this story is to allegorize it, to say that everything in it is symbolic of something else: the king is God, the son is Jesus, the first guest list is the nation of Israel, or the leaders of Israel (to whom he was speaking at this moment). And the wedding robe? It is faith. Or it is Christ. Or it is good works. Or it is baptism. Or all of the above.
And so, then, the message may be that God has invited the people of Israel to be a part of the new covenant in Christ. And if they decline the invitation, they are writing their own death warrant. But even among those who accept the invitation, there are no guarantees. You know. Just showing up isn’t enough. Make a mistake and, well, there could be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
None of it feels very inviting. Or very loving. And that, I want to say, is important.
It is important to pay attention to how you feel about the parable – more important than figuring out the parable.
A parable is not a secret message that is meant to be decoded and nailed down. A parable is meant to be experienced. It is something that falls alongside our lives, close enough for us to relate to. Distant enough to pique our interest. And it’s the space in between – between the closeness and the distance – where something can happen.
For here we are. Listening to this story about a king who wants to have a banquet for his son’s wedding. And people don’t respond the way they should. They don’t follow through on their promises.
They overreact with gratuitous violence. They are so put off by a message they don’t like, they are willing to kill the messenger. A ruler is so embarrassed by this failure, he starts a war. Somebody who looks different, doesn’t follow the conventions, is vilified. Why? Because these are things that people do. These are things that really happen in the world. They still happen in our world.
If you have followed what has happened in Michigan the last few days, where groups of self-appointed guardians schemed to storm the capitol and kidnap the governor, then you know. It sounds like a parable, doesn’t it?
The parable is an observation made by Jesus of what he sees all around him, exaggerated to the degree that we cannot miss how disturbing it is. It is shocking, and that is the point.
Somehow or another, it is necessary for us to get the point that these are high stakes. The world is in serious trouble. And God’s calling is serious business.
Jesus ends the parable with these words: For many are called but few are chosen. And, again, it is hard to know exactly what he means by this, the difference between being called and being chosen. Perhaps we may hear it this way: the call is an invitation to respond. And the choosing has something to do with our response.
This parable works with the two parables that come before it to tell a story about invitations being extended, and responses made. People saying yes, then failing to follow through. People receiving the good gifts of God and then failing to use those gifts for God’s good purposes. People doing things that are destructive of others and, therefore, self-destructive as well. We cannot hurt others without hurting ourselves.
We might have thought the parables of Jesus are cute little stories, but they are much more than that. Jesus’ parables look unflinchingly at a hurting and broken world, a world in danger. And call upon us to make a change. Repent.
Underlying all of this is the knowledge that God is true to God’s promises, so it is certainly not a blanket condemnation of the Jews. And that God’s grace extends backwards and forwards and way beyond anything we can imagine. The truth of this is in the life and death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
There is serious trouble in the world. But God’s grace is unbounded. And there is the hope.
All thanks be to our God of amazing grace.
