Twenty-eighth Sunday of Ordinary Time
It was shortly after lunch that I finished this homily, and who could blame me? With all this talk of “juicy, rich food” and wedding banquets, and even St. Paul saying that he knew what it was like to be well-fed and what it was like to be hungry, whose mind wouldn’t turn to food? And that’s really okay, because all of us have come here [today / tonight] because we are hungry, but maybe hungry in a different way.
Many people, when asked why they pick one church over another, say that they do it because it is at that church that they are “spiritually fed.” And that is certainly one of the tasks of the church, to feed those who hunger with the spiritual food that comes from our Lord Jesus Christ. And I think that’s the lens through which we have to see this rather curious Gospel parable today.
When our modern ears hear this parable, there are surely things that seem odd about it, aren’t there? First of all, as the wedding banquet is finished, the guests have to be summoned to the feast. But in those days, they probably had received a formal invitation previously, and then had to be let know when the feast was ready. But then we come to this very curious issue of the invited guests not wishing to attend. What could possibly be keeping them away. Even if they weren’t thrilled by the invitation and honored to attend, you’d think they would show up anyway because of who it is that is inviting them. You would think they would want to keep the king happy.
And many of us have been in the position of going to some social event because it is expected of us, I am sure. I myself remember clearly attending events for work in my pre-priesthood days because clients or other VIPs were in the area. Even in seminary, we were often “invited” to events that really were mandatory, which always used to drive me nuts. But we can all relate in some way to attending some social event because it is expected of us, and not necessarily because we would choose to be there.
And that makes what happens next even stranger. Did they really think they could mistreat and kill the king’s messengers without any kind of consequences? No king worth his salt would let such a disrespectful challenge to his authority go unpunished.
But now the banquet is still ready and the guests are well, unavailable shall we say… So the king sends the messengers out to all the public places in order to invite whomever they find. And who are they going to find? Well, probably pretty much what you’d expect: peddlers, butchers, beggars, prostitutes, tax collectors, shop lifters, the physically impaired and sick … in short, not the sort of people you’d expect to find at a king’s wedding banquet.
So, to me, it’s not all that shocking that one of them is not appropriately dressed for the banquet. What is shocking is that the rest of them are, right? Some biblical scholars have suggested that perhaps the king, knowing who was going to show up, may have provided appropriate attire, and that one person refused to put it on. Certainly if that were true, we could all understand the king throwing that person out.
Putting the parable in context, the banquet is the kingdom of God. The distinguished invited guests are the people to whom Jesus addressed the parable: the chief priests and the elders of the people. These have all rejected the invitation numerous times, and would now make that rejection complete by murdering the messenger, the king’s son, Christ Jesus. Because of this, God would take the kingdom from them, letting them go on to their destruction, and offer the kingdom to everyone that would come, possibly indicating the Gentiles, but certainly including everyone whose way of life would have been looked down upon by the chief priests and elders: prostitutes, criminals, beggars, the blind and lame. All of these would be ushered in to the banquet, being given the new beautiful wedding garment which is baptism, of course, and treated to a wonderful banquet, which is the Eucharist. Those who further reject the king by refusing to don that pristine garment may indeed be cast out, but to everyone who accepts the grace given them, a sumptuous banquet awaits.
Can you imagine the hunger that those beggars, prostitutes, criminals, blind and lame people had? Think about how filthy were the garments they had to be wearing. Yet they are all washed clean in the waters of baptism, fed to satisfaction on the Bread of Life.
If by now you’re thinking that the beggars, prostitutes, criminals, blind and lame are you and me, well, now you’re beginning to understand what Jesus is getting at. Our sinfulness leaves us impoverished, and hardly worthy to attend the Banquet of the Lord. It would only be just for our God to leave us off the invitation list. But our God will do no such thing. He washes us in the waters of baptism, clothing us in Christ, bringing us to the Banquet, and feeding us beyond our wildest imaginings. We come here desiring to be spiritually fed, and our God offers us the very best: his own Son’s body and blood.
[Today we join with our RCIA candidates for full communion, who are themselves answering the king’s invitation tonight. They are one with us in baptism already, and in the days to come will complete the formation that will bring them along with us to the table of the Lord. Their presence here stirs our own hearts, reminding us to keep that wedding garment pristine, and approach the Lord’s table with renewed love and devotion.]
As we come to the Banquet today, we must certainly be overjoyed that our names are on the list. We have been summoned and the banquet is prepared. Now we approach the Banquet of the Lord with gratitude for the invitation, which is certainly undeserved, but just as certainly the cause of all our joy. We sing this joy with our Psalmist today: “Only goodness and kindness follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD for years to come.”
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I don’t know about you, but I think that lots of us when we were growing up, learned that we had to win or earn the Lord’s kindness. If we wanted God to love us, then we had to behave in the right ways and follow all the rules. And some of that comes from our human experience. Many people often consume their lives with trying to win the approval of others. But we have it all backwards: God is not like that, and that’s what today’s Liturgy of the Word is trying to tell us. The Scriptures show us a God who loves us first, and then calls on us to respond to God’s love by living the right way. Our entire lives should be all about responding in love to the love God has for all of us.
The first reading today recalls how God led the people Israel through the desert for forty years, bringing them safely to the land he promised on oath to their ancestors. Traditionally this has been viewed literally, but there is also a tradition that sees the whole rescue of the Hebrew people from the tyranny of Egypt allegorically. Many of the Church fathers see the rescue as our own rescue from the tyranny and slavery of sin, through the wilderness of the world, into the safe haven of God’s promise. So whether we want to read this first reading literally today, or whether we want to see it as our delivery from sin, in either case, we see the Lord’s providence and kindness poured out on his people, delivering them from danger and bringing them safely into a land that had always been promised to them.
For our second reading these weeks, we have been and will be reading from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, arguably one of the masterpieces of his theological writing. Today’s reading is somewhat the crux of his presentation in Romans: God in his mercy chose to save us even before we were worthy of it. We had been enemies of God through the power sin and death had over us, but God in his goodness chose to redeem us anyway. Having been reconciled, he now chooses in his kindness to save us from the power of death and bring us in to the grace and peace of his kingdom for all eternity. This is all done through the grace and kindness of our God, who chooses to save us even though we are not remotely worthy of it on our own.
The Gospel reading, though, presents us with the greatest personification of God’s kindness. Throughout chapter nine of Matthew’s Gospel, we see the crowds hanging on Jesus’ words and deeds. In this chapter, Jesus heals a paralytic, he calls Matthew – a tax collector and a sinner – to follow him, he raises the daughter of a local government official from the dead, he heals two blind men, and expels a demon. The crowds were understandably entranced by his words and deeds, and Jesus can see that they are entranced because they had so long gone without pastoral care. The religious officials who should have been bringing them the good news of God’s kindness had instead been about the business of extracting the minutiae of the Law and filling their own coffers. They had left the people abandoned of God, like sheep without a shepherd, and Jesus’ heart ached for them. So in his kindness, he sends out the Twelve to continue his work and to call more and more people to come to know that the kingdom was at hand, and repentance would give them a place in that kingdom.
So these readings have been a great rehearsal of the kindness of God as the Scriptures present it. God created us in love, redeemed us from the grasp of sin and death, and gives us a place in his heavenly kingdom. And that’s nice, but the Scriptures would be remiss if they stopped there. Instead, they go on to prescribe the proper response to God’s love and kindness, and each of today’s readings give us one way to do that. These readings call us to keep the covenant, to boast of God and to freely give.
In the first reading, God makes the first move in favor of establishing a covenant. He didn’t have to – clearly. He had made us in love, but we had turned away from him, and not just once. Yet, he was the one who sent Moses to lead the people out of the slavery of Egypt so that they could inherit the land he promised on oath to their ancestors. If God has reached out that far to us, we can do no less than keep the covenant. We have to live the life of grace: keep the commandments, love God and neighbor, celebrate the Gospel in everything we do. We have to reach out to the marginalized and needy, just as God reached out to us in our own need. “If you hearken to my voice and keep my covenant,” God says to us, “you shall be my special possession, dearer to me than all other people.”
In the second reading, St. Paul echoes what the first reading says. God has made the first move. He reconciled us while we were still sinners. He gave us the way to the kingdom. We didn’t deserve it, but our sinfulness is no match for God’s mercy. So if God has been so merciful, we need to boast about it. And we’re not to boast about it as if it was something we earned or accomplished on our own; we are to “boast of God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.”
And finally, in the Gospel, Jesus gives us the key to our response to God’s love, mercy and kindness: “Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give.” The gifts of grace are never given to us just for ourselves. They are given to us to share. Now that we have been redeemed and blessed, we must turn and bless others, leading them to the redemption God longs to pour out on them. We are to freely give of the rich store of grace that has been freely given to us.
God does not manipulate us for his pleasure. He does not demand that we behave perfectly in order to receive his kindness. Instead, he is the one who washes our feet, who stretches out his arms on the Cross, who dies that we may live. In the face of such great and perfect love, we can do no less than love in return.
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