“The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son.”
If you’ve been coming to worship for the last couple of weeks, you may have sensed a theme developing.
It started two weeks ago with a parable Jesus tells about two sons. One of the sons says that he won’t do what his father asks, but he does do it. The other says he will do what his father asks, but he doesn’t do it. Jesus draws a distinction between those who put on a show of faith and those who are faithful.
Then last week Jesus told a parable about a landowner who planted a vineyard and leased it to tenants. And when the landlord sent slaves to collect the rent, the tenants killed them. And when the landlord sent more slaves to collect the rent, the tenants killed them. And when the landlord sent his son to collect the rent, the tenants killed him. And when Jesus asks the people who are listening to him – who are the chief priests and the elders – what the landlord will do, they say he’ll kill those tenants and lease the vineyard to new tenants who will pay the rent.
They condemn themselves. And Jesus says, “Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom.”
And now we’re on to the next parable, which continues the theme.
“The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son.”
Royal weddings are powerful things. Even in countries like this one where we take pride in not having kings and queens we are easily fascinated with the ceremony surrounding royal weddings. When Prince Charles and Princess Diana were married, 750 million people watched what was hailed as a fairy-tale wedding on television. When Prince William and Kate Middleton were married, more than 75 million people watched on YouTube alone. A million people lined the route between Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace. Royal weddings are powerful things.
And here is a king giving a wedding banquet for his son.
He has slaughtered his oxen and his fatted calves. There is a feast of rich food filled with marrow and well-aged wines strained clear. The food has been prepared and the places are set. So he sends his slaves to gather the guests and say, “Come, all things are ready.”
But they won’t come.
He sends more slaves, “Come, all things are ready.”
But they won’t come. One goes to his farm, there’s work to be done. One goes to his business, there’s money to be made. And the others, as in the last parable, seize the slaves and mistreat them and kill them.
So the king takes the advice that the chief priests and the elders gave to Jesus when he asked what the landowner would do. He kills the people who refused to come to the banquet. He burns their city down.
But the feast is still there. There is still rich food filled with marrow and well-aged wines strained clear. There is still food on the table and the places are still set. Things are still ready.
So he sends his slaves out into the streets to bring everyone they find – both good and bad – to the banquet. And they fill the wedding hall.
The kingdom of God has been taken away from the people who were invited to the banquet and has been given to the people the king’s slaves have found in the streets. They can be glad and rejoice.
This sounds familiar. And it’ll preach.
It’s an uncomfortable message – don’t just put on a show of being faithful, be faithful – but it’s a message we sometimes need to hear.
It’s a message I sometimes need to hear. It’s a message I regularly need to hear.
Being part of the body of Christ isn’t about looking the part. It isn’t about being one of the religious elite. It isn’t about being seen praying in public. It isn’t about displaying the ten commandments. It isn’t about wearing a cross. It is about living a life defined by love.
As some of you know, I am a Member in Discernment in the United Church of Christ. That means that I am on the path towards ordination. And it’s true that there’s a little part of me that wants to be invited to the same things that clergy are invited to. It’s true that there’s a little part of me that wants to be called reverend. It’s true that there’s a little part of me that likes the robes. It’s true that there’s a little bit of it that’s ego.
And it’s true that all of us struggle with that from time to time; that all of us want to show off how holy we are and how beloved we are by God. But being part of the body of Christ isn’t about how great we are. It’s about living a life defined by love. Love for our friends. Love for our enemies.
But Jesus is about to take this message – don’t just put on a show of being faithful, be faithful – a little further.
The king who is throwing the wedding banquet for his son comes in to see the guests – the guests who were just invited off the streets – and he notices that one of them isn’t dressed properly. And you won’t believe what happens next. He has the guest bound hand and foot and thrown into the outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. This king is a stickler for dress codes.
I am not a stickler for dress codes. I don’t believe in dress codes. I show up for church in jeans. I don’t wear a tie unless absolutely necessary and ties are never absolutely necessary. If I had my way, we’d wear whatever we were comfortable in and get on with things.
But I understand dress codes. Slacks and a button down shirt give a sense of professionalism. A jacket adds to the occasion. Top hat and tails let people know that you know that this is an event that needs to be marked. Ties are still never absolutely necessary.
But this isn’t about dress codes, of course. I hope. This is about a sense of occasion.
God is making a feast for all peoples. A feast of rich food. A feast of well-aged wines.
God is destroying the shroud that is cast over all people. God is swallowing up death forever.
God is wiping away tears from all faces. God is taking away the disgrace of the people.
This is a big deal. This should have a sense of occasion. Forget the dress code, this should have candles and musicians and dancing and balloons and jugglers and fire-eaters and a bouncy castle and, most importantly, deep gladness and everlasting joy.
But… what if…
What if we don’t need to wait? What if we don’t need to wait for someone to show up and tell us, “Come, all things are ready”? What if we don’t need to wait to be found in the charred streets of a burnt city? What if we don’t need to wait?
What if we can have a sense of holy impatience?
What if we can prepare the rich food and well-aged wines? What if we can wipe away tears and take away disgrace? What if we can light the candles and strike up the musicians and start the dancing and blow up the balloons and throw things to the jugglers and take on the tongues of flame and inflate the bouncy castle and share a deep gladness and an everlasting joy?
We can’t do it all. We need God.
But that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything.
Only God can fill every stomach, but we can share our food. Only God can slake every thirst, but we can share our wine. Only God can swallow up death, but we can make sure everyone has access to healthcare. Only God can wipe away every tear, but we can comfort the downtrodden. Only God can take away all disgrace, but we can act gracefully.
We can have a sense of holy impatience. We can get the party started. We can be faithful. When God says, “Come, all things are ready,” we can reply, “so are we.” The broken world we live in and the healed world God is ceaselessly creating can become one joyful and everlasting whole.
And that will be an amazing day.