Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

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Sermons

October 2002 (click here to return to "October 2002 Sermons" page)

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time (October 13, 2002)

“When You Haven’t Anything to Wear…” Dr. Julie Adkins

Text: Matthew 22:1-14

SERMON

Every now and then,

the Bible hands us a story

that appears to make no sense at all.

Or perhaps it makes sense of a sort,

but it would make better sense in Machiavelli’s The Prince

than in the gospel of Matthew.

The parable we’ve just heard Jesus tell, through Matthew’s words,

sounds more like a treatise on

how to be sure that your subjects respect and obey you …

not on,

“what the kingdom of heaven is like.”

In fact, this past week one of my esteemed colleagues suggested

that when you get handed a weird text like this one,

there’s only one thing to do:

preach on Philippians!

Tempting, indeed.

But it nicely avoids the issue of

what we do with scriptures like this one

that at best don’t make sense,

and at worst, sound cold, calculating, and cruel.

“The kingdom of heaven may be compared to

a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son…”

So far, so good.

He invites a bunch of his friends,

and sends his slaves to tell them that dinner is served,

but they don’t show up.

So he sends another batch of slaves,

and the invitees make fun of them, and finally murder them.

So, the king sends out his army

and murders his former friends!

Then, we get to the bit where he sends yet more slaves out into the streets,

to invite everyone they see to come to the feast.

And the party is going just swimmingly,

until the king, while making the rounds among his new guests,

comes across one who isn’t wearing a “wedding robe.”

And in a fit of pique, he orders the man

to be bound, and cast into the outer darkness.

I mean, this guy sounds like some of the stories we hear

about the craziest of the Roman emperors …

or Saddam Hussein, for that matter.

How can the kingdom of heaven be like this???

It doesn’t help that Luke tells the same parable,

only without all the gory bits.

Luke’s story is simply about a great banquet,

and invitations going out but receiving the same silly excuses …

no one gets murdered …

and the slaves get sent out to round up anyone who happens to be about

and/or appears to be in need,

and the banquet goes on …

no conflict about a “wedding robe;”

no one gets cast into the outer darkness.

Did Luke just forget the less-pleasant details of the story?

Did he leave them out for a reason?

Was Matthew’s memory more accurate,

or did he embellish the story

because of the particular way he understood Jesus meant it?

Is one version “right” and the other “wrong”?

The short answer to that is “no” …

neither is wrong.

But they are different.

Given that,

what do we suppose Matthew was trying to convey

by including this much-harsher version of the parable

in his gospel?

Well, come back with me to the story now,

and let’s try something on.

I may be way off base with this …

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a commentary on this text

suggest this understanding,

but it makes sense to me, so let’s see where it takes us.

Think about the order in which things happen in the story.

The wedding banquet is prepared; it’s ready;

the calves have been slaughtered and dinner is on the table.

Guests who had previously been invited

are now told: It’s ready; come on over!

And now, at the last possible minute,

they decide to “make light of it,”

or to find excuses not to come.

Leave aside the bits about everyone getting murdered;

we’ll come back to that.

So the king, not wanting the food to go to waste,

and certainly not wanting his son’s wedding to go uncelebrated,

invites people in off the streets:

“Hey, folks, there’s free food on the table,

come in and join the party!”

And not too surprisingly, the wedding hall fills quickly.

With people who’ve just been wandering around,

about their own business or lack of it …

the good and the bad, according to Matthew.

So, where would they have gotten wedding robes?

There wasn’t time for them to go home and fetch one,

much less go shopping for one!

The food was already on the table.

Come now. Use it or lose it.

This is the only chance you get.

So, where did any of them get wedding robes?

The only possible answer is that, like all the food on the table,

it must have come from their host.

There isn’t any other place they could have gotten it from.

Not given the immediacy of the story,

and the fact that dinner was already on the table.

Think of it as being like one of those swanky restaurants where

if you neglected to wear a coat and tie,

they’ll lend you one!

The king, wanting nothing but the best for his son,

not only provides a banquet,

and last-minute guests to fill the hall,

but also appropriate wedding attire for the guests!

That’s the only way I can make sense out of what follows.

The king sees one of his guests without a wedding robe,

and he goes ballistic.

“How did you get in here without a wedding robe?”

How dare you come in here and stuff your face on this banquet

without paying respect to my son and the occasion of his wedding?

Granted, his reaction is still on the harsh side,

but it becomes more understandable.

This particular guest has failed to recognize

that everything is a gracious gift from his host,

and so he has failed to make the appropriate response,

which is to receive the gift – all of it.

Why is that important to Matthew?

Perhaps more appropriately:

why did Matthew think that was important

to those who would be hearing and reading his gospel?

Well, we don’t know whether the “Matthew” who wrote the gospel

was the same Matthew who was one of the Twelve …

We don’t even know for sure whether the author of the gospel

was of Jewish or Gentile background.

Scholars argue that one both ways.

But there is fairly widespread agreement that Matthew’s audience

was a community of Jewish Christians.

So, they were among those for whom obedience to the Law

had been, and probably still was, extremely important.

Not a bad thing in and of itself.

But a little dangerous insofar as, at times,

it gave people the impression that they could

earn their way into God’s good graces.

That if they just behaved well enough,

God would reward them with the kingdom of heaven.

Ah! … the kingdom of heaven …

that’s where this whole crazy parable started.

As in Luke’s gospel, the kingdom of heaven ends up being like

a banquet where everyone gets invited in:

rich and poor, good and bad, etc., etc.

But Matthew adds this touch about a guest

who apparently thought he didn’t need

everything his host had to offer.

That he was okay on his own,

on his own merit.

Whereas Jesus was always pretty clear –

though he was often gentler about it –

he was clear that none of us

is going to make it on our own merit;

even if we are among the “good.”

The banquet and the robe are gifts from God,

but they’re a package deal.

We can’t accept the goodies of the heavenly banquet

without also accepting that it is God

who makes up worthy to receive it,

not we ourselves.

Am I making sense?

This context, then,

makes the earlier part of the parable fall into place.

Matthew is retelling his version of the story of the Hebrew people

up until Jesus’ coming.

God has always had the kingdom ready,

and has continually been sending invitations to God’s people

to come and enjoy,

to share in the bounty of the kingdom.

The slaves in the parable

are people like Moses and the prophets,

who tried to pass along God’s invitation

and were at best ridiculed,

at worst, murdered.

Then, as now,

there are always things that seem more pressing than

responding to God’s invitation.

The bit about the king growing murderous

and destroying the ungracious invitees and their city,

is, again, Matthew’s understanding –

maybe it was Jesus’ as well, but it was certainly Matthew’s –

of the time of exile,

when Jerusalem was destroyed

and the people shipped off to Babylonia.

And whether Matthew is remembering accurately or embellishing doesn’t really matter;

what matters is that his hearers would understand that this was a story about them,

or at least about their ancestors,

and maybe about them as well.

There had been a time in the history of the Hebrew people

when they went through an arrogant phase.

“We’re God’s chosen people,” they recalled.

We’ve got it made. We’re “in.”

It doesn’t matter how we act, because we’re already chosen.

There was a sense that,

whatever a future kingdom of God, kingdom of heaven, looked like,

their place was already assured …

and that they would be just as privileged in that place

as they were, in God’s eyes, on earth.

It brought to mind a short poem I’ve always admired

by the Harlem Renaissance poet Countee Cullen,

called “For a Lady I Know”:

She even thinks that up in heaven
Her class lies late and snores,
While poor black cherubs rise at seven
To do celestial chores.

Privileged now, privileged forever.

Chosen now, chosen for all eternity.

Matthew’s telling of this parable

is an attempt to get his hearers to understand

that their storied heritage counts for nothing;

their obedience to the details of the Law counts for nothing.

When the time comes for the kingdom-of-heavenly banquet,

all will be invited.

And, those who get to stay will be the ones

who gladly accept all of God’s graciousness on their behalf,

who understand that they haven’t earned anything for themselves;

that whatever righteousness they have clothed themselves in

is not the appropriate wedding robe for the feast.

The only appropriate attire

is the robe God has clothed us in …

the robe of Jesus Christ, the son of the king.

It is in his honor that the feast is prepared …

it is in his honor that we are invited …

it is because of him and only because of him

that we are gloriously clothed in righteousness,

and sit down to enjoy the feast in God’s eternal kingdom.

We have nothing of our own to wear:

God has provided, and will provide. Amen.