Speaker 1: So welcome today. You may or may not know this, but today is actually Valentine's Day. Couple of you are scrambling in your head right now trying to figure out where you can get reservations after church, but that's alright. It is also family day weekend. It's the first Sunday of Lent and Valentine's Day all rolled into one, so a lot of mixed emotions here in the room.
I get it. But let me say this right off the top. I think it's a really beautiful parable that we're gonna look at today, and I hope that you will leave a feeling loved. However, that said, I do not have a specifically Valentine's themed message for today. And so I thought that just for a moment, I might share with you some church approved Valentine's cards that you might wanna share with a loved one.
Perhaps you could pass it to someone special, especially if they come from a Puritan tradition. So here's a few of my favorites. You make my heart dance and dancing is forbidden. It's good to know. Here's a nice poem you might want to share with someone special.
Roses are red, violets are blue, and neither are useful or necessary at all. It's good to keep the truly significant things in front of you at this time. Another good one, I need you to help raise livestock and crops, or surely we will starve to death come winter. Because household chores are important, and we need to share in them together. Here's one for the kids.
Would you be my necessary vessel for procreation and nothing more? Children are such a blessing. It's very romantic. One final one to the set is all in the Valentine's mood. Being with you fills me with impure thoughts, and I am ashamed.
Send that one to your special someone today. May that help you find a rich and rewarding romantic holiday this day. Now, all kidding aside, I understand, like you all, that Valentine's is essentially a manufactured holiday designed to sell us chocolates and cards. I get it. But here's the thing.
Sometimes we need scheduled reminders. And so even if it is forced, would you tell someone how much you love them today? Now, as mentioned, this is also the first Sunday of Lent. That's nice that you're doing it right now. I appreciate that.
I'll like I'll swing. Thank you. I was thinking later, but it's even better. As mentioned, it's also the first Sunday of Lent, and perhaps you weren't able to join us on Ash Wednesday. But even if you weren't, I I hope that you were able to set aside some time to decide how you might participate in this Lenten season as you begin to prepare your heart for the coming of Holy Week and Resurrection.
And I know that seems a long ways off, although the weather has certainly hinted at spring this week, but Easter is such an important moment in the Christian calendar that it needs this kind of preparation. So please don't think of Lent as a downer. This season is not meant to depress you, that's not the point. It's designed to remind us of the waiting so that the payoff of resurrection can land most deeply in our souls. Now, last week, we began our new season and series in the gospels, exploring the very hardest parables, and we did that by looking perhaps a more obscure parable in Luke chapter 20.
Now for the record, as we get into this series, some of these parables may be new to you or at least a little less familiar for you. That's part of the design of this series. We want to wrestle with some of the less common Jesus stories. And so the list of stories we're hitting is on our website. If you click on the teaching tab under resources, you will find the list of scriptures we'll be tackling for the next month.
And incidentally, that is also where you can find the home church discussion questions that are posted every week. And so even if you are not able to participate in a home church in this season, but you still want some tools to guide your reflection, those are available every week. You are welcome to those resources. Regardless, I know we have a lot of people in our extended community that listen by podcast or YouTube, and those notes are there for you as well, so that's great. Anyway, last week was Luke 20, and Jesus tells us a parable about religion and religious systems.
The larger point he's making being that religion doesn't own the vineyard in the story. God does. And that's not to say that religion is bad. I know a lot of people like to say they're not religious anymore. That's a new thing.
But I'm religious. There, I said it. I have systems and rituals that help me to understand God and experience him more fully. Sorry to break it to you. That's religion.
But I try not to confuse my religion with the grand expansive grace of the divine. Because he is always going to be bigger than me. And so if we don't have room for God to change us and to shape us, sometimes to break us apart and put us back together in new ways as Jesus says, then we may find that there is less and less room for us in the kingdom. And we may even actually begin to see God as a crushing weight instead of this gracious invitation he intends. So that was our parable last week.
Today, we have yet another story that pushes against our comfortable imagination of Jesus. This one is found in Matthew 22. But before we go there, let's pray. Gracious God of invitation, may we hear your judgment for the gift that it is today. Not the payment or penalty or punishment we imagine, but instead, this gracious offer to be broken apart and reassembled in your imagination.
For all the ways that we continue to hold on to who we have been in the past. For the ways we struggle to fight against your change. For the ways that we fear how you might transform us. Would we instead learn to trust in your wisdom and your love for us? To know that being shaped, that being reshaped, to know that you have a destination and an image of something in beautiful mind for each of us.
And so where we need to be broken down, may we give ourselves over to you. And where we need to be rebuilt, would we trust that you are there as well? Where we are holding on, feeling squeezed or perhaps even crushed a little. May we come to understand that the breath that we are fighting for is freely available on the other side of your love. In the strong name of the risen Christ, we pray.
Amen. Alright. Matthew 22. And this is a bit of a long one, but I kinda just want to read you the whole parable. Because for me, this is one that I think we kind of need to take in as a whole before we can really talk about it.
And so Matthew 22 starting in verse one says this. Jesus spoke to them again in parables saying, the kingdom of heaven is like prepared a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his servants to those who had been invited to the banquet to tell them to come, but they refused. Then he sent some more servants and he said, tell those who've been invited that I prepared my dinner. My ox and fattened cattle have been butchered and everything is ready.
Come to the wedding banquet. But they paid no attention and went off. One to his field, another to his business. The rest seized his servants, mistreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged.
He sent his army and destroyed those murderers and burned their city. And here is our first indication that this is not our typical nice and neat Jesus story. But then we read a more, typical Jesus response. The king said to his servants, the wedding banquet is ready, but those I invited did not deserve to come. So go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.
So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, the bad as well as the good, and the wedding hall was filled with guests. So here's that surprising grace we have somewhat ironically come to expect. I say ironic because I'm not sure you can say you expect something surprising. Regardless, the story is not actually over. Because when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed noticed a man there who was not wearing wedding clothes.
He asked, how did you get in here without wedding clothes, friend? The man was speechless. Then the king told the attendants, tie him hand and foot and throw him outside into the darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. For many are invited, but few are chosen. So hello, M Night Shyamalan.
Bruce Willis was a ghost the whole time. It's a twist ending. Because you did not see that one coming, be honest. But that is Matthew 22 verses one to 14. So a couple twists, couple hard statements, and definitely some work ahead of us to figure this out.
But actually, I really like this parable. And one of the things that we have to do here before we jump in is recognize that what we've read is a parallel to Luke chapter 14 verses 15 to 24. Thing is, if you write that down, Luke 14 verses 15 to 24, and you go and you read that one later, you will realize that there is the same story told there without the surprise second ending. So in Luke's version, the original guests don't come. So the king sends out invitations to anyone on the street.
He welcomes them in and there's a big mishmash party of unexpected guests. End of story. The question then for a lot of text critical scholars is, well, what's with this new ending? And for the record, when I say text critical, I don't mean critical of the text. Textual criticism is simply a specific field of study where we try to understand what the original text or the original sources behind the text we have today were.
So really important stuff. It's not just a bunch of grumpy old men who pick on the bible. That said, the question that text critical scholars ask is, did Matthew add this new ending himself? Or did Luke just not know about this final ending to the story? Or, which personally I find the simplest and most compelling answer, are these simply two different parables?
And that for me just makes the most sense. Listen, I'm a preacher. Not saying I'm on the level of Jesus regardless of whether I cribbed his hairstyle, but I write and I tell sermons. Like, I tell stories for a living. And sometimes I also drink coffee and have conversations with some of you.
It's a pretty sweet gig. But over the years, I have told the same stories many, many, many times over. Just in different contexts, with different emphasis, and sometimes, actually, with completely different intent. So the idea that Jesus would use the same story, but make a different point for a different audience, that doesn't seem odd to me at all. In fact, it just seems obvious.
And if you look at the surrounding contest, it makes sense too. In Luke, Jesus tells that version of the story when he is seated around a dinner table with a bunch of really important people. And so it's a story about how God's table is more open than we imagine it to be. That makes sense. In Matthew, the story is told during holy week.
While Jesus is speaking to the religious authorities, while he knows they are plotting to kill him behind the scenes. That context in Matthew seems to call for a hotter, more pointed version of the story with perhaps a different point. And so by all means, go and read the Luke story this week. Compare and contrast, but at least for today, we're gonna stay here rooted in Matthew's version of the story. Because I think even though they have the same set up, this is a different parable.
So, that in mind, let's dive into this. Jesus starts by telling us explicitly what this parable is about. He says, the kingdom of God is like. So this is a metaphor, or more technically, a simile. But this is not an exact analog for the kingdom of God.
When we deal with parable, especially these difficult ones, we have to keep in mind the limits of the genre. Genre. The kingdom of God is not a party where the poorly dressed are thrown out into the street. The kingdom of God is like that in some way. And so part of learning how to listen well is about discerning how the kingdom of God is like and not like the metaphors that Jesus uses.
That's part of the purpose of parable. It forces us to engage. It tests the limits. It makes us think and wrestle with what Jesus is really trying to say. Now once we get into the parable, we are introduced to a king who wants to hold a feast for his son.
In fact, his son has just got married, and the father wants to celebrate. And anyone here with a daughter just groaned and thought, why did we ever change this tradition? Very clearly, we should have stuck with the father, the groom, paying for the party. That sounds much better, but since I have a son, I will just ignore that and keep moving. What's more interesting to me here though, is that Jesus uses once again the idea of a celebration, and in particular, a meal to describe the kingdom of God.
Recall through your memory banks all of the momentous meals in scripture. There is the final supper of the lamb in Revelation 19. There is the marriage feast at Cana in John two. There's the last supper with Jesus in all of the synoptic gospels. There's an evening at Emmaus on the night of Easter day in Luke 24.
There's a breakfast of broiled fish by the lake after Jesus' resurrection in John 22. There's the Passover meal in Exodus 12. Not to mention the parallel banquet in Luke 14 or even the feast of the prodigal son in Luke 15. There seems to be simply something about a meal that is fascinating to God. And why else would the symbol that Jesus asks to be remembered by be a meal with friends?
Remember, it actually wasn't the fish on the back of your car or the steeple on top of your church or even the cross around your neck that Jesus asked to be remembered by. What he asked was bread and wine and friends and table. This is because there is something about human beings sharing joyfully in the most common, mundane, fundamental experiences of life that God finds beautiful. That's why we have the dinner party network here at the church. Yes, it's a good way to meet some new people and make some new connections, but it's also because we have a conviction that something beautiful happens around a dinner table.
It's like we almost instinctively, almost reflexively share something of ourselves when we eat together. And so perhaps the reason that Jesus is so fond of describing the kingdom of God as a feast is because he wants to root our imagination of God deep down into the most basic experiences of the human condition. So not all of us have dogs. I do and he's awesome. And not all of us play hockey.
I do and it's great. Not all of us love books. I do. I hope you do too. But every single one of us know that beautiful need for food and sustenance in our lives.
We have all been hungry, and we have all been satisfied at the end of a good meal. And perhaps there is something in that shared experience that everyone knows that Jesus wants to tap into when he describes his kingdom. From the well dressed and the well-to-do in their Dior gowns and Harry Rosen suits shipping Chateau Lafitte, all the way down to the man on the street in dirty work clothes drinking muskete that came from a box. Whatever the kingdom is, it is not cultured, it is joy joyful. And yet, Jesus starts by saying that the cultured are invited to the party.
So even those who might believe that they've earned their place at the table of God, they're not excluded in Christ's kingdom. They are welcomed too. But here's the thing. If you think you earned your seat, you deserve your place at the table, then the invitation isn't particularly remarkable, is it? See, if I was to invite you over to dinner, you might think, oh, that's nice.
You might even check your calendar to see if you could make it. By the way, Rachel and I would love to have you over for dinner sometime. Not all at once. Our house is very small, but we do love to meet with people from the community. But if I invited you over, you might wanna come.
That would be great. But if Justin Trudeau rang you out and invited you out to dinner at Teatro, you can bet you would jump on that. Even if you're not a fan, maybe especially even if it's just to give him a piece of your mind, you're gonna go. If he's paying for you, might as well order big while you're there. Am I right?
Because the question here isn't just the invitation. That is extended to everyone. The question is how it's received. If you think you've earned your seat at the table, that your invitation is metaphorically, of course, in the mail, then hearing about it isn't all that remarkable. Remarkable.
Like, I love to be there, they reply, but I've got business to attend to. I wish I could, but I've got other plans. So the king actually says to no, you don't understand. Listen, this isn't just dinner. This is a party.
My ox and fattened cattle have been butchered. Everything is ready. Listen, this isn't your grandma's chipped china. I've busted out the good stuff. The wine from deep down in the cellar is on the table.
You don't wanna miss this. But the guests still say no. And in fact, they don't politely refuse. They actually get offended at the king's insistence. So they beat up his messengers, they mistreat his offer, they kill his servants.
And the king is rightly indignant. Jesus says that he was enraged. He sent his army. He destroyed those murderers. He burned their city to the ground.
This is some godfather stuff right here. I mean, talk about an offer you can't refuse. You don't come to my dinner. I go after your family, says the king. So we know this is not a typical Jesus story here.
I think in the context of the story, however, we shouldn't read too much into this. It is a metaphor after all. But I think perhaps what Jesus is saying is that if we refuse God, he will give us what we chose for ourselves. So if we ignore him, he will ignore us. If we choose death and murder and destruction, he will give us that as well.
See, actually don't think that God is in the game of punishment as much as we think he is. I think God is in the game of grace. But sometimes grace is giving us the thing that we chose. And sadly, I have often had to learn the most from the moments where I chose the path I knew I shouldn't have gone down. And in God's grace, he gave it to me, he let me, he watched me, and he waited for me.
Sometimes, not always, but sometimes the pain that you're feeling is simply the consequence of the path that you chose. But that doesn't mean there is no return. Because the king then says, well, I'm in the mood to party. So I'm gonna party. Go out and get whoever you can find and bring them in because this feast is not going to waste.
If the comfortable people who look the part don't wanna be here, then go and find some of those who perhaps chose a less wise path in the past. Those who made bad decisions somewhere along the line and invite them in for a second chance. In fact, Jesus explicitly says, invite the bad as well as the good. And truthfully, the word bad there is in the Greek. It's a little heavier than just bad.
It is to be quote, morally and socially worthless, wicked, evil, bad based, worthless, vicious, degenerate, to be so deficient in quality in a physical sense as to be completely worthless. So to translate that bad is probably getting off the hook a little bit easy here, but you know. And yet, if the story ended there, I think we'd still get it. Right? That sounds like Jesus.
Grace to those who didn't deserve it. Amen, brother. Thanks for the invite. I'll be there for dinner. But the hard part is, the story isn't over.
Because the king comes in, he sees a man who isn't wearing appropriate wedding attire, which given the fact that the guests have just come in off the street is not surprising at all. And yet the king says to him, how did you get in here without wedding clothes, friend? The man was speechless. Then the king told his attendants, tie him hand and foot and throw him out outside into the darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. What on earth is going on here?
Well, there are two main interpretations. Neither of which I find completely satisfying. Augustine, way back in the fourth century, suggested that perhaps what has happened here is that these no good knicks who were invited in were then offered wedding clothes when they came into the palace. Palace. After all, if this king knew who he was inviting, he would know they would need appropriate wedding clothing, and in his graciousness, surely he offered it to them.
Now there is some precedent for this. This. Even though there's nothing in the text to even remotely hint at this, there was a very famous rabbinic parable at the time about a king who entrusted royal robes to his most loyal subjects. The wise ones took the robes home and placed them in a closet for safekeeping. The foolish ones immediately put the robes on and wore them out to work and into the markets to show off to everyone.
When the king called the subjects to appear before him, the wise went home, got the robes and put them on. The foolish showed up in their now dirty clothes. So the king praised the wise subjects, but he took the robes of the foolish ones before kicking them out of his palace and into the darkness. Point being, the idea that the king would provide the clothing he expects you to wear in his presence is not completely fabricated, pun intended. No one?
Okay. Fine. But, Augustine says, that the reason this man is kicked out of the party is because, even after having been invited invited in off the street, he refused flatly to dress in the robes that the king offered him. Now that makes a lot of sense if you're willing to go along with the wardrobe service conjecture. However, it also kind of makes the second half essentially the same as the first half.
God offers an invitation and people refuse. God offers clean robes and people refuse. So it works, but it doesn't add a whole lot to the story. The second common interpretation is that upon being invited, the guests, despite their lowly standing, were expected to then go home, wash, dress in their best, whatever that was, and appear before the king. Our thinking here is it's not our appearance or good deeds or upright standing that get us into the party.
That invitation goes out to everyone, but that doesn't mean that we aren't expected to then respond appropriately to the invitation. So anyone can come, but once you receive the invitation, you still have to go home and clean up and get ready. This is sometimes explained as the difference between works, what I do gets me into God's good graces, and fruit, I'm in by God's invitation. The question now is how do I respond in my life? And again, that one works too to some extent.
I think it's obvious that there is some call in our lives, some desire that God has for us to become more than we are. You know, to grow, to mature, to become more holy. And so I think both of those interpretations are good and they're helpful. We have to accept God's grace and we have to keep accepting accept God's grace, and we have to respond to that grace with growth and maturity and transformation. It's good.
It makes sense. There's still something missing here for me. And it's in this conversation, this non response from this guest. The king says, friend, why aren't you dressed for a wedding? How did you get in here dressed like that?
And I don't actually think this is a trick question. I I don't actually think that the king expects him to be well dressed or even to have a good excuse. I think what the king is looking for is a conversation. Tell me how you got in here, he says. Share with me your story.
Tell me who you are and why it is that you were on the street to be welcomed into my party. Why aren't you dressed for a wedding, friend? Because I've had a hard year, and I've lost everything, and I don't even have a suit anymore. Because I made some bad choices, and I sold my suit a long time ago to pay some bills, so what you see is all that I've got. Because honestly, I didn't even really know what was happening.
Like, was just out on the street and these people came by and they started gathering everyone up and bringing them in, and I just followed the crowd and here I am, I'm just standing in front of you now. You see, these are all good answers presence of God. Because they don't presume that the party depends on you. And that's what this story is about for me. That each of us have been handed a golden ticket based on nothing but the grace of God.
And that is the judgment in the story. Because it says that everything you have accomplished, as good as it might be, has been judged meaningless. And everything you think that has earned you your place at the table has been judged invalid. That whatever you might point to to defend your seat or why you're here, this too has been judged unworthy. Because the only thing you have to do to experience the feast you're invited to is to learn to believe that you are welcome just because God says you are.
Cape Horn says it this way, the only thing that can possibly be a problem for the kingdom is a faithless non acceptance of God's having solved the problem all by himself. The only ones who will not enjoy the meal are those who in the very thick of the festivities refuse to believe they are even at it. See what Jesus is saying? Is that judgment of God on your life is that it wasn't enough to get you a seat. But the grace of God is doesn't matter because you are invited to the party anyway.
May you recognize your invitation today. And when the king turns to ask, ask, how did you get in here my friend? Would you look him straight in the eye and say, I was invited. Let's pray. God, help us to fit into our imagination of you.
These parables that push and expand what we're comfortable with. This idea we have where we create a dynamic interplay between your grace that invites us, but also this work and this goodness and this earning that we've done to to be worthy of a seat at your table. And yes, we point towards you, but we still compare ourselves to others, and we still lift ourselves up by the good things we've accomplished. We still look at our bank account, and our clothes, and all of the things that we think make us worthy. And we invest our identity in that.
Would you begin by the work of your spirit to dismantle that imagination? To help us realize that now we are the ones on the street who have been welcomed in for no reason but your grace. And when we stand in front of you, there is this dynamic mixture of things going on. Yes, we need to accept the new robes you offer us. And, yes, we need to continue to grow and mature and become holy.
But even in the midst of that, we need to be honest about our story with you. To say the only reason we're here is because we were invited by you. Help us not to see that as a diminishment of who we are, but a recognition of a deep and robust worth that you place in each of us. In the strong name of the risen Christ we pray. Amen.
Thank you for being here with us on family day weekend, on Valentine's Day, on the first Sunday of Lent, and you got that all done in one week. But we will end here as we always do with this. Love God, love people, tell the story. Join us next week. We'll be back here next Sunday.
Thanks everyone.