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

Merely Tenants

Matthew 21:33-46

[Jesus said,] “Listen to another parable. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a watchtower. Then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. When the harvest time had come, he sent his slaves to the tenants to collect his produce. But the tenants seized his slaves and beat one, killed another, and stoned another. Again he sent other slaves, more than the first; and they treated them in the same way. Finally he sent his son to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ But, when the tenants saw the son, they said to themselves, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.’ So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard and killed him. Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” They said to him, “He will put those wretches to a miserable death and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time.” Jesus said to them, “Have you never read in the scriptures, ‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is amazing in our eyes’? 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. The one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls.” When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them. They wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowds, because they regarded him as a prophet.

A couple of times, every other week these days, I drive by an apartment complex that sits right next to the Cancer Center at Community North Hospital. It looks very much like the apartment complex I lived in for a couple of years, my Junior and Senior years in college, and I found myself waxing nostalgic about those days and that apartment. Part of it is surely the coming of Fall and the changing weather and the fact that I sat in on the Alumni Advisory Board meeting of my alma mater a couple of weeks ago…

Part of it is that many of our college friends – and two of my roommates from that apartment – have been reaching out in some lovely ways in response to Christa’s cancer diagnosis, lately …

And part of it is that I remember how carefree and fun it was – not just because I was a college student having all kinds of fun – but because I remember that it’s actually kind of nice to be a tenant, living on someone else’s property; in someone else’s building; and not having to deal with all the things that go along with being the landlord, the landowner, the one holding the mortgage.

My “To Do List” back in college included classes and homework, a very part-time job, and parties. I didn’t have to worry about mowing the lawn or changing filters, or staining the deck or repairing that screen, replacing the carpet, touching up the paint, washing the windows (I still don’t wash the windows), but you understand.

The benefits of leasing from somebody else who’s responsible for all of the things on my to-do list doesn’t sound like such a bad deal, right about now. And it made me think about this morning’s parable.

Jesus tells about a landowner who’s planted a vineyard and who’s checked off a bunch of stuff from a pretty hefty “To-Do List”: a fence for protection, the digging of a wine press, the building the watchtower. And, rather than live there himself, he leases it to some tenants – some college kids, maybe – giving them all they need to get by in the world.

But the tenants don’t seem to understand the nature of a “lease.” Not only don’t they appreciate all that’s been shared with them, but they aren’t inclined to keep up their end of the bargain. When the landowner sends for his earnings and his rent, they won’t pay. Not only that, but they beat and stone and kill the ones who come to collect.

Finally, after trying a couple of times to get what’s his, the landowner sends his son – with the expectation that those tenants will have to respect him – he’s the boss’ son, after all. Much to the landowner’s surprise, I’m sure, the tenants kill the son, as though he were just another of their boss’s slaves.

Of course, Jesus’ parable isn’t just about some tenants and a landowner and an actual vineyard outside of Jerusalem somewhere. And the chief priests and the Pharisees who are listening to Jesus aren’t as think as you dumb they are, either.

They eventually realize that Jesus’ parable is about them. They are the tenants who’ve been given the blessing of God’s kingdom to share. And Jesus wasn’t just talking about a vineyard or a wine press or some grape juice, either. This parable is a story about life as God’s children, charged with the fruits of the kingdom – things like forgiveness and hope and new life; peace and love and justice and grace.

The chief priests and the Pharisees weren’t honoring the terms of their lease, if you will. The people of Jesus’ day were lifting up rules that kept people out. They were sticking by traditions that made themselves the sole beneficiaries of God’s grace. They were making it hard to see that God’s love was meant for the whole wide world. They were trying desperately to keep God’s good news and blessings all to themselves. Their list of works “To Do” and of sins “Not To Do” was extensive and overbearing and more than anyone could possibly manage.

But, if you’ve ever rented an apartment, you know you aren’t always allowed to just paint the walls whatever colors you want, are you?! You might just get yourselves evicted. And as tenants in God’s vineyard, that’s how I see what the chief priests and Pharisees were up to. They were putting up walls and building barriers and drawing lines in the sand about just how much love God – the owner of it all – really had to offer.

And Jesus’ story isn’t just about the Pharisees or the chief priests either, of course. Jesus’ story is about you and me, too. And that’s not always an easy thing to hear.

If God is the landowner, we aren’t always the best of tenants, if we’re honest. We don’t always recognize that all we have and all that we are have been given to us by God – not just for ourselves, but for the sake of the world around us.

We don’t always remember that we are merely tenants. And we forget that that can be a real blessing if we’ll let it. When we forget that…when we start acting like we own the joint…when we start pretending like the vineyard is ours, we get ourselves into trouble, just like the chief priests and Pharisees of Jesus’ day. We start building our own walls and putting our own boundaries around God’s grace for the world. And we start painting it all with our own colors of judgment and condemnation. We start coming up with our own lists of things to do or not to do – for others, of course – that don’t always line up with what God would have for any of us.

So it makes you wonder where the good news is here, doesn’t it? What’s Jesus’ point? Are we just supposed to admit our failure, hand over the keys, and wait for our eviction … for God to snatch the kingdom from us, like Jesus seems to promise God will do?

I don’t think so. I think we’re called to see what a blessing it is that we don’t have charge or responsibility over what ultimately belongs to God. I think we’re supposed to put down our own To Do List and pay more attention to God’s.

And I think we’re called to thank God for not giving up on us yet. We’re called to be thankful that God – as the owner of it all – finally did send the Son. And we’re called to be thankful that Jesus shows us what it means to be children of God, to be faithful servants, and to be responsible, grateful, generous tenants with the gifts God pours into our lives.

We do our best to do what God would have us do, then: love, forgive, bless, heal, preach the good news, etc. And when we fail… when we get distracted… when we lose our way… we’re reminded that God sent Jesus, in the end, to take care of the rest.

Of course, I’m glad I don’t rent that college apartment any longer. I love the house I’m blessed to call home. I remind myself as often as I can that it’s all a blessing from God. Even the “To Do” lists that overwhelm me sometimes are valuable ways to remember how grateful I am for what I call “mine.” The same is true with all the blessings and responsibilities that come with being a child of God, trying to live life in the Christ-like ways of patience, generosity, forgiveness, humility, love, and so on down that holy kind of “To Do List.”

Jesus does kind of let us have it in this morning’s Gospel parable, right along with those chief priests and Pharisees. He does sort of put us in our place. But if we soften our hearts, if we will see ourselves as tenants more often – merely tenants, thank God – of the most gracious landlord – we will see ourselves as fellow workers with Jesus, the Son, doing God’s bidding for the sake of this world and this Church we are blessed to call “home.”

Amen