Matthew 5:1-12

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

(Because we have so much going on this morning, Pastor Cogan suggested I keep things brief.)

So much of All Saints’ Day is about remembering and celebrating all those who have died in faith and gone on before us to the glory of heaven – which we have done. It is a sacred, faithful thing to recall all of those who have fought the good fight – and to name some of them aloud. Those – as we heard in the book of Revelation – who have made it through “the great ordeal” that can be life in this world, too much of the time.

When I usually think about All Saints’ Day, it’s easy for me to think about those saints that some churches give special status to – like St. Francis or St. Stephen or Mother Theresa. And it’s easy to think about other figures in the church and throughout history who might be considered “saintly” – like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, or Dorothy Day, or Martin Luther King, Jr. – and that’s meaningful. It may be even easier to think about grandmothers and grandfathers and friends and family who have died and who we believe have made their way into the company of heavenly saints. I hope we all have people who we are blessed to remember as saints today because that is a beautiful thing.

All of this is why I decided that hearing these “beatitudes” like we did today can be a bit confusing and misleading on All Saints Sunday. I’m afraid they give the impression that in order to be “BLESSED” – or to be deemed a saint, you might assume – Jesus is suggesting we have to first be poor in spirit, or mourning, or meek, or hungering and thirsting for righteousness. Or that in order to be “BLESSED” – to be worthy of sainthood, perhaps – we first have to be more merciful than the average bear, or profoundly, provably pure in heart, or persecuted peacemakers of the highest order.

But All Saints’ Day is about more than that. It’s about more than just remembering. It’s about more than just looking back. It’s about more than just the martyrs or the big names or the ones given special status by the Pope. All Saints Day is about each and every one of us here, too – still living and breathing, alive and well today.

I think we’d like to believe that there are some who are more worthy of sainthood than others. I think we’d like to believe that there are some who are more worthy of special status than others. And I think sometimes, we’d like to believe that because it relieves some of the pressure – it leaves us pale by comparison – and it lets us off some kind of cosmic hook of high expectations.

Maybe we think we don’t live at a time when we can make an impact on the Church like Dietrich Bonhoeffer did. Maybe we aren’t in a position to make a stand or start a movement or change the course of history like Martin Luther King, Jr. did. Who among us can possibly find the time or the conviction or the faith to live a life of service and sacrifice and mercy like Mother Theresa? They were special people. They had a special calling. They were saints, for sure.

They did amazing, faithful, culture-shifting, world-changing things. But none of that is what made them Saints.

What makes each of them one of all the saints is the love and grace of God. And that’s the truth for each and every one of us, just the same.

It’s why, in addition to the names we read at the start of worship, the rest of what’s happening here today, is as faithful a celebration of All Saints’ Sunday, as we can manage. We are celebrating a baptism … We are welcoming a crew of new Partners in Mission into our fold … And, of course, we will share Holy Communion as a family of faith, like we always do. I’d like for us to see all of that – in addition to and in connection with all of those saints we named – mark our celebration, just the same.

We will baptize little Colette Ann Blackmon and welcome her as a child of God into the Church and into our congregation. We’ll hear again the words said to any saint who’s ever been baptized – in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – and the promises that belong to all of us because of that. We’ll get a chance to touch the water and to remember God’s call and invitation for our own lives as disciples, in response to that grace and good news.

We will also welcome 30-something new Partners in Mission into our life together at Cross of Grace. We’ll hear commitments to worship, grow, pray, share, give and tell and we’ll look forward to the mission and ministry God is calling us to as a community – together – here; in this place, in this part of God’s kingdom, for the sake of the world.

And finally, we’ll gather at the communion table where we’ll hear again about how Jesus gave his life for the sake of the world and how before he did it, he shared bread and wine with his friends and family – a motley crew of saints and sinners just like us – as a way of remembering God’s love and God’s grace, God’s forgiveness, hope and promise for all of creation.

All of this is to say that All Saints Day isn’t about what certain, special people have done to earn favor in the sight of God or in the eyes of the Church. All Saints Day is a celebration of what God does through grace to make you and me worthy of forgiveness and new life, too. All Saints Day is about the special status we each receive – connected one to another and with all those who’ve gone before us – as beloved and blessed children of God, who belong to something much bigger than ourselves.

And that’s my sermon (short and sweet, as instructed) – to simply remind you all – and myself – that these gifts are for every one of us. Today, let’s let the events of baptism and communion, the sharing of bread and wine and water – and the fellowship of other believers … saints and sinners, all – be the good news we need. Let’s let these simple gifts be reminders and vehicles of love and forgiveness and salvation for each of us and for all of creation.

So, to Colette, we say welcome to the font … to the water and to the word and to all the hope and promise they hold…

To our newest Partners in Mission, we say welcome to this family of faith … to a place we hope you’ll feel invited to experience and share the grace we proclaim with no strings attached … and to join us in that work…

And to each other we say welcome to the table … again and again and again … where we are fed and forgiven and freed to love and serve the world as the blessed saints of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Amen

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.”

So, I spent a couple of days – a week or so ago – in Columbus, Ohio, at Trinity Lutheran Seminary, from whence I graduated 25 years ago, and I got to listen to some lectures from my favorite professor and theologian from those days, Mark Allan Powell. As expected, I learned a lot from him over the course of three lectures in two days’ time, and I look forward to sharing some of that with you very deliberately sometime down the road.

But, in addition to the specifics of what he shared, I came away feeling encouraged and emboldened to get a little creative with my scriptural interpretation, preaching, and teaching. Which is to say, I found myself wrestling with this parable in a new way that may or may not pass muster with smarter people than me – which is something my professor Mark Allan Powell has done his entire career as a theologian.

Let me be very clear, none of what I’m about to share is Mark Allan Powell material. I don’t want to get him in trouble. And I can’t imagine I’m the first person to interpret this passage the way I’m about to, but this is all me.

Because I wondered differently about Jesus’ parable today than I ever have before: about how harsh it sounds … about the weeping and gnashing of teeth … about the outer darkness … about how unfair it is that that poor guy would be invited to the party, accept the invitation at the very last minute and, just because he didn’t have the right robe to wear, got punished so brutally.

This is so hard for me – and maybe it is for you, too – because the context and characters of the parable have always been the following:

The king is God and the wedding banquet is the Kingdom of Heaven.

The first round of those invited to the party represent the good, faithful, Jews and Jewish leaders of Jesus’ day – those who rejected and questioned him, like the scribes, Pharisees, Sadducees and the like. They are the ones in the parable who ignore the invitation and go away – to their farm or to their business. And they’re the ones who mistreated and killed the ones who extended the invitation, in the first place.

The second round of invitees – the B-list, if you will – who got invited to the party late to fill the seats, eat the food, and make the king happy – those were the followers of Jesus, the peasants, his disciples, his family and friends; and by extension, they represent US – you and me – the outsiders to the Jewish elite; those not part of the traditional, historically ‘chosen ones’ of the house of Israel. They are – WE ARE – the ones who should be grateful to have received the invitation, even if only by way of the B-list. They are – WE ARE – the ones who should respond to such an invitation and feast with great joy, deep gratitude, and faithful discipleship.

And that sad sack who gets the boot – the guy who shows up without the proper attire – who didn’t get the memo about the dress code represents one of US, too – you or I – well-intended, but unprepared; called and invited, but not up to the challenge; not faithful enough; not invested enough; not good enough; and therefore, sadly, worthy of eternal punishment and hellfire; outer darkness, weeping, and gnashing of teeth.

This is a rough take, right? We aren’t used to seeing this side of Jesus … and I don’t like it, to be honest … the one where he preaches about and promises “the outer darkness” and the “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” It’s black and white and harsh. It’s utterly lacking in grace, mercy, and the love we long for – and which is usually easier to find in his preaching and teaching, to be honest.

But, again, that’s the more popular interpretation and understanding of this parable, as far as I know. And it’s very likely accurate and true to Jesus’ intentions in many ways. After all, it’s not the first or only time Jesus lays out some high expectations for his followers. Remember, or look up, the very popular Matthew 25 where we hear that parable about the sheep and the goats – just three chapters after this one – where some believers are “sheep,” blessed and chosen to sit at the right hand of God, while some are deemed “goats,” damned and doomed to the same eternal fire reserved for the devil and his angels.

Again, I don’t love that. And I don’t want to steal ALL of Jesus’ thunder, here. I think we’re meant to hear Jesus get serious from time to time; and feel convicted; and think hard about our invitation to follow his ways. But these are parables, too, remember. Nothing more, nothing less. And it’s okay to recognize that Jesus gets serious and hyperbolic when he wants our attention. So he goes hard with the outer darkness, the weeping, and the gnashing of teeth, from time to time – and often in Matthew’s Gospel.

But I wonder if there’s another way – an additional take on this parable of the wedding banquet, the late comers, and the sad sack who gets the boot.

What if most of it is as expected and as I’ve already explained?

The king is God. The wedding banquet is the Kingdom of Heaven

The first round of those invited to the party still represent the good, faithful, Jews and Jewish leaders of Jesus’ day – those who rejected and questioned him, like the scribes, Pharisees, Sadducees and the like, who wanted nothing to do with the party of grace he promised.

And what if the second round of invitees is still you and me – the B-listers who aren’t part of the Jewish inner circle of God’s chosen ones, but who are graciously welcomed in, fed, nourished, and showered with grace, nonetheless.

BUT, what if the sad sack who gets the boot … the one who shows up without the right clothes on … ISN’T one of us? What if that’s Jesus, the Son, himself, who the king questions, for all the guests in that packed wedding hall to see and to hear: “Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?” “Are you telling me none of these people – not one of my other guests – cared enough to see that you were clothed, and welcomed, and had what you needed to enjoy the feast with the rest of them?”

And what if, just like Jesus, before Pilate at his crucifixion, this guy was speechless; uncomplaining; silent, like a sheep before its shearers – as the prophet predicted. And what if we’re supposed to see him, as Jesus, bound, and cast into the outer darkness of his crucifixion with all of its weeping, gnashing of teeth, whips, thorns, nails, and more?

And what if we’re supposed to look at ourselves and at each other, with cups overflowing, with full plates, full bellies, heads and hearts full of forgiveness and abundance none of us has earned, and wonder how we let that happen?

What if the message of this wedding banquet parable is much like that one about the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25: whenever you did it to one of the least of these – fed the hungry, healed the sick, visited the prisoner, clothed the naked – you did it to me? And whenever you DID NOT do it to one of the least of these, you didn’t do it for me, either.

And what if, to be called is one thing … to get the invitation, to show up to the party, to celebrate the grace and mercy and love that God offers us all – A listers and B listers, alike?

And what if to be chosen is something altogether more? What if that means to look around at who’s nearby; to be sure our neighbor and fellow wedding guests have clothes and food and healthcare and equal rights and fair pay and a safe place to sleep and aren’t deported on sight or executed on a livestream or bombed into oblivion?

And what if we are called to be convicted by the King’s question – “How did this happen?” – as we watch our Savior get the boot, take the heat, and die on the cross – for our sake – until we get it right?

Amen

All Saints Sunday for All the Saints

Something Old, Something New