Invited, Welcomed, Wanted

Matthew 22:1-14

Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come.  Again he sent other slaves, saying, ‘Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet.’ 

But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, mistreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his slaves, ‘The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.’  Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad; so the wedding hall was filled with guests. 

“But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing a wedding robe, and he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?’ And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ For many are called, but few are chosen.

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Do you remember how we used to have parties without fear? I mean before COVID-19 pandemics and social distancing and masks and whatnot … when people invited you over for dinner and drinks? When there were Happy Hours and birthday parties and weddings, I mean?

And maybe even long before that, when many of us were kids, maybe, do you remember when being invited meant just about as much as anything in the whole wide world?

I remember when I was in fifth grade and Kira Salisbury had one of the first birthday parties where boys and girls were all invited and only the cool kids were going to be there. (Her parents rented out a hall and a D.J. and everything.) And I remember how, in Junior High, there wasn’t much more important than to know who you were going to show up with at the school dance. In high school it was house parties. In college it was Fraternity and Sorority formals. And after college, like in this morning’s Gospel story, it was weddings.

For anyone who’s ever been invited to be part of something special – and for those who’ve waited for invitations that never came – you know how much weight those invitations can carry sometimes. If your teenage and adolescent years were anything like mine – you might remember feeling more than a little anxious wondering and waiting and hoping to be included, involved, and invited to be part of the fun.

Of course, for those of us who’ve been around the block once or twice, our identity doesn’t hinge so much on the invitations or ideas or impressions of others the way that it may have at one time. But, as uncomfortable as the prospect may be, I’d like to put us back into that frame of mind again, if we can; back to those days of waiting and wondering and hoping you’d be included. Because I think that’s the frame of mind Jesus wants us to have as we hear his parable of the wedding banquet this morning.

There’s a king throwing a wedding banquet for his son. To his embarrassment, his invitations were insultingly rejected. He’d pulled out all the stops – his oxen and best calves had been prepared for the meal, all of his honored guests and closest friends had been invited – he was the King, after all – but no one seemed to care. Those who were invited made light of the invitations and found better things to do.

But the party had to go on, so the king sent his slaves into the streets with the invitation. Now, anyone and everyone who wanted, was allowed into the banquet. And anyone and everyone showed up. And, much like today, there were expectations in the days of Jesus for what you should wear – or not – to a wedding reception. In some cases, it’s believed that the host would even provide the appropriate attire for those who showed up without it. (I think that still happens at certain fancy restaurants or snooty country clubs – a loner jacket or a tie to borrow is kept in the coat room for the schmuck who shows up, under-dressed, for dinner.) Well, there was one under-dressed schmuck at the king’s wedding – maybe he showed up without his mask – and when he couldn’t offer up a good excuse for it, the king gave him the boot.

And as usual, Jesus’ parable means to share something much more important and meaningful than anything about a birthday party or the school dance or even the biggest and the best of royal weddings. Jesus is talking about God’s invitation to his chosen people and about what it means to see themselves as just exactly that – God’s chosen people; as the ones invited, first, to the best party in town.

Because apparently, some in Israel didn’t get it. (And Jesus was a Jew, remember, speaking to his brothers and sisters in the faith, so he could say things a little more pointedly, or even harshly, than just anybody would, could, or should, to his fellow Jews.) So he was saying they mistook God’s “invitation” for a “backstage pass.” That they came to see themselves as guests from the A-list and all others as B-, C-, D- listers, or worse. That they were blessed to have received the invitation in the first place, but forgot about their call to be a blessing because of it. That they were treating the party of their salvation like it was “by invitation only” and they were the ones who had started making up the guest list – instead of leaving that up to God.

So, in his parable of the wedding banquet, Jesus means to remind them that even though they had been invited to the feast, they were the ones neglecting the invitation. God had given them all that they needed – the law, a land, second chance after second chance, the promise of a Messiah – but they had closed their eyes and their minds and their hearts to what God was offering them, in the coming of Jesus.

And in making his point, Jesus suggests that God’s salvation, God’s forgiveness, God’s grace and mercy and hope for eternity is something not just for the Jews, any longer, but for everybody. It’s what the slaves in the parable were offering when they hit the streets – sharing the invitation with whoever would receive it; to the Jews and the Gentiles; to the saints and the sinners; to anyone and everyone who would hear and receive what God was offering.

And that’s where the Jews of Jesus’ day would have said you and I make our way into the picture. We’re the “anyone and everyone” from out there in the streets who were invited to the party after the others didn’t show. We’re the ones who’ve heard the story second-hand and who get to belly up to the banquet table, even though we might have been on the “B-List.”

But let’s not get too comfortable. The Jews of Jesus’ day aren’t the only ones he’s calling to stop and take a look in the mirror. We’re all called to see ourselves in this parable, too – as those who neglect, reject, ignore, and take for granted, sometimes, God’s invitation more often than we’d like to admit it. We might even be that schmuck, sometimes, who shows up without dressing for the occasion.

And Jesus wasn’t talking about wedding robes or dress codes or fashion sense at all. I think he was inviting us to consider whether we cover ourselves with righteousness and joy and with new ways of being that let the world know we’ve received our invitation, that we’ve showed up for the party, and that we’re glad to be here. Jesus is inviting us to change the way we live in the world because we’re abundantly grateful for God’s grace for our sake. Jesus is inviting us to change, not our clothes – but to transform our minds – and our lives – so others will see and know that our very souls have been changed by the waters of our baptism, given to us in the first place, by the God who’s planned the banquet.

And I believe this is where our adolescent longing for acceptance and inclusion stands to teach us something as we sit here this morning.

Those times when we wanted nothing more than to be invited and to know we would be welcome and feel included … do you remember those days? Well, I believe we’re surrounded by so many – too many – who feel that way, still, about life in the Church, inclusion in the Kingdom, and welcome into the grace and love and redemption of God.

And what Jesus’s parable reminds me this morning, is to be grateful for, and humble about the invitation we’ve already received. Because when we do, when we are clothed in joy, and gratitude, and humility – thankful to be invited and glad someone made room for us at the banquet – we will be inspired to return that blessing and we will welcome, make room, and make way for more of God’s children to join us for the party.

Amen

Cold Water and Warm, Wide Welcome

Matthew 10:40-42

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

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These three little verses of Matthew’s Gospel seem a little out of context, all on their own – plucked as they are from Chapter 10, I mean. So, before we get to the point of it, I feel like we need to back up and set the stage, some.

Up until this moment in the 10th Chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus has been laying out the details for his disciples about their job description. He’s been preparing them to hit the road and to get about the work of preaching and teaching and sharing the Good News. He’s already given them authority over unclean spirits, you might remember. He’s already charged them with casting out demons and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. He’s told them to announce that, “The kingdom of God has come near.” He’s instructed them about how to dress, even. And he’s told them where to go, with whom they should stay, and what they should be wary of out there in the world.

And a lot of what they can expect isn’t pretty, to be honest. Just before what we heard this morning, Jesus warns his disciples about that, by telling them:

“… I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Beware of them, for they will hand you over to councils and flog you in their synagogues; and you will be dragged before governors and kings because of me … Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death; and you will be hated by all because of my name…”

So it doesn’t sound like such a great gig, being one of those first disciples. Hitting the streets with the Word of God. Knocking on doors to share the Good News of the Kingdom. Preaching the Gospel. Teaching about God. Healing the sick.  Inviting yourself into the hearts and lives of people who may or may not want anything at all to do with what you’re up to.

And I kind of wonder, with all of these marching orders, if Jesus doesn’t have an ulterior motive.

Don’t get me wrong. Of course, I’m sure Jesus wanted the dead to be raised and the sick to be cured and the good news to be preached and all of that. But I wonder, too, if the whole point of sending the disciples out into the world that way – with all of those rules and expectations and warning, even – was so that those first disciples, those rookie believers, could get a feel for what it’s like to be on the other side of the door, looking to be welcomed themselves, hoping to be heard themselves, longing to be received themselves, by whoever would have them.

See, even though they were new to all of this, they were insiders to a movement that was about to take off in a big way. And they were insiders who’d just been given tremendous responsibilities and unbelievable authority – to cure the sick, raise the dead, cast out demons; preach, teach, and forgive, remember. That’s the sort of stuff that might go to a person’s head, don’t you think? It’s the sort of stuff that’s so good…  it’s the kind of power that’s so mighty…  it’s a grace so amazing, it might make a person – or a people – lazy or entitled or stingy with the good stuff, if they aren’t careful.

For instance, a disciple might want to stay put, after a while, and let the sick come to his house for a cure. Or a disciple might want to hang a sign out front with office hours during which time demons might be exorcised. A disciple might think the forgiveness of sins should take place, conveniently, in large groups, at, say, 8:30 or 10 o’clock on a Sunday morning. Or, a rookie disciple might think this grace of God stuff is so good it will sell itself once word gets out – and if people don’t show up, if they don’t bend over backwards to receive it, it would be their loss, not the disciples’ problem.

But this morning, Jesus also says, “whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.” On top of all the rest, Jesus means to raise up gracious, generous, selfless, humble, hospitable, welcoming disciples. “…whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones…”

I read an article this week about how the Catholic Archdiocese of Indianapolis issued some new guidelines warning that transgender kids may not be allowed to enroll in their schools. Apparently, there’s an eight-page document called “Policy and Complementary Norms on Sexual Identity in School Ministries,” that means to offer guidance about how to deal with students who have sexual identity or gender identity experiences that vary from what is “typical” according to the average bear and according to “traditional” church teaching.

Specifically, and admittedly in a very incomplete nutshell, from what I can tell, kids are welcome to attend school, even if they identify somewhere outside of the “typical,” “traditional” norm and expectation of the church, but once a student does something to legally change their gender identity from their biological sex, or once they physically alter their given biology, they may no longer be allowed to enroll.

But, “… whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple — truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

Now, I don’t mean to pick on our Catholic sisters and brothers. We are all in the same boat as Christian believers. They were just in the news this week. We Lutherans have been down similar roads before. In fact, I was contacted this week about a rumor that an educator at a local Lutheran school was fired for the “immorality” of being gay. And it’s not all about sexuality, either, of course. I got an e-mail not long ago from a friend of a friend who told me she wanted to be part of a church, but that she’d screwed up so many times in so many ways – that she was such a prolific sinner according to her family and as far as any faith community she’d ever known was concerned – that she was anxious and scared to even set foot inside the doors of a church. (You’d be surprised how many people out there in the world make that kind of confession once they find out I’m a pastor.)

Anyway, all of this reminds me about how stingy we can be with the good stuff of God’s grace. And, because of it, I’m afraid, too many churches in the world are known more for who they don’t welcome than for everyone that they do – or should be sharing cups of cold water with, as Jesus puts it.

And, what struck me about all of this, this time around, is that there were no eight-page documents of policy and procedure when Jesus sent those first disciples out into the world. And if there had been, it would have had more to do with the disciples than it would with those whom they were trying to reach with God’s grace and good news.

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me …and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple — truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

We are insiders to God’s movement of grace in the world, you and I. As far as I can tell, most of us gathered here have been welcomed – into a community of faith, into a family of believers, at the waters of baptism and to the table of forgiveness – and we know the blessing of that welcome. (If none of that feels true for you, yet. I’m especially glad you’re hearing this today. I hope it sounds like an invitation to the love of God in a way you’ve never felt it before.)

See, I think, like those first disciples, we’re to be reminded about what that sort of grace and welcome feels like – what that kind of mercy and forgiveness and love means for us – so that we are sent out into the world around us, offering it up like so many cups of cold water – to thirsty pilgrims wherever we can find them, at all costs – to anyone and everyone who hasn’t been welcomed or received or listened to or loved, just yet, in the name of Jesus Christ.

Amen