The Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost - Matthew 22:1-14 - The Rev. Colette Hammesfahr
October
11, Matthew 22:1-14
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a prince lived in a
beautiful castle. The prince had everything he could ever imagine. He was rich.
He had power. He had servants. But he was also selfish, spoiled, and unkind.
One cold evening, an old woman came to his castle door. She
was dressed in rags and was looking for shelter from the cold. The only thing
she could offer as payment was one single rose. The prince took one look at her
and turned her away. The old woman warned him not to be deceived by
appearances, because true beauty is found within. The prince still didn't
listen.
Suddenly, the old woman revealed her true identity—a
beautiful woman with magical powers. As punishment for his cruelty, she turned
the prince into a hideous beast.
Does anyone recognize this story? It's the beginning of Beauty
and the Beast.
The prince looked like royalty. He lived in a castle. He had
everything that went along with being a prince. The problem was that he didn't
know how to act like one. He had all the outward signs of belonging to a
kingdom, but he was lacking something much more important on the inside.
In some ways, this is what we see in today's Gospel. A king
throws a lavish wedding banquet for his son. He sends out invitations, but the
guests refuse to come. Some go about their business while others mistreat and
kill the king's servants. The king is angry, so he sends his servants into the
streets to invite everyone they can find—good and bad.
Soon, the wedding hall is filled with guests. But something
strange happens. The king notices a man who isn't wearing a wedding garment. He
asks the man how he got into the banquet without proper clothing. The man
doesn't have an answer, so the king orders him to be thrown out.
This seems pretty harsh. At first glance, it seems the man
was kicked out because he wasn't dressed properly. But what if the wedding
garment isn't really about clothing? What if it represents something much more
important?
Biblical scholar N. T. Wright says this of Jesus' parable: “The
point of the story is that God's kingdom is a kingdom in which love and justice
and truth and mercy and holiness reign unhindered. They are the clothes you
need to wear for the wedding. And if you refuse to put them on, you are saying
you don't want to stay at the party.”[1] Wright is saying there is
a difference between being invited into God's kingdom and living as though we
belong to it.
Think about that for a moment. God invites everyone to the
banquet. Not just the good people. Not just the people who have their lives
together. Not just the people who always do the right thing. Everyone. The good
and the bad. The faithful and the struggling. The people who have been coming
to church their entire lives and the people who have never set foot inside one.
The invitation is given freely. But accepting the invitation
means something. We can't simply show up at the banquet and expect nothing
about our lives to change. We can't claim to belong to God's kingdom while
refusing to live by its values.
We want God's love, but are we willing to love people who
are difficult to love? We want God's mercy when we make mistakes, but are we
willing to extend that same mercy to someone who has hurt us? We want justice
when we've been treated unfairly, but are we willing to stand up for someone
else who is being treated unfairly? We want others to tell us the truth, but
are we willing to be truthful when it might cost us something? These are not
always easy clothes to wear.
Sometimes love means forgiving someone who hasn't
apologized. Sometimes mercy means giving someone another chance. Sometimes
justice means speaking up when it would be easier to remain silent. And
sometimes truth means admitting that we were wrong.
It's much easier to wear the clothes of comfort, pride,
resentment, or indifference, isn't it? Those are the clothes we're used to
wearing. They fit us pretty well. And sometimes we just don't want to take them
off.
Why is it so difficult to take off those old clothes? Maybe
it's because resentment gives us something to hold on to when someone has hurt
us. Pride protects us from having to admit we're wrong. Indifference allows us
to look the other way when someone is suffering. Staying comfortable means we
don't have to risk anything. Sometimes those old clothes feel safer than the
ones God is asking us to wear.
And maybe that's what makes this parable so uncomfortable.
The man at the banquet wasn't someone who had rejected the invitation. He went.
He showed up. But something was still missing. We want to belong to God's
kingdom, but we don't always want to live by the values of that kingdom.
God doesn't invite us
because we're already wearing the right clothes. God invites us as we are. We
don't earn our place at the banquet by being loving, merciful, or just. God's
invitation comes first, and our transformation follows.
And the good thing for us is that God doesn't leave us to
figure out how to change all by ourselves. God continues to work in us,
sometimes in ways we don't even recognize—through prayer, through Scripture,
through the people who challenge us, and sometimes through the people we find
difficult to love.
Think again about the prince in Beauty and the Beast.
He didn't become human again because he found a better castle or bought himself
a new wardrobe. He changed because he finally learned what it meant to love
someone other than himself. When he allowed Belle to leave, knowing that he
might remain a beast forever, he put her needs ahead of his own. He chose love
over selfishness. And that choice showed that something inside him had changed.
This is what Jesus is teaching us in the parable. God has
invited us to the banquet. There's a place for us at the table. But the
invitation isn't simply about where we get to sit. It's about who we are
becoming. It's not about whether or not God is willing to welcome us. It's
about whether we're willing to be changed by the invitation. Amen.
[1]
[1] N. T. Wright, Matthew for Everyone, Part 2: Chapters 16–28 (Louisville, KY:
Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), 85.
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