after Pentecost
| Old Testament | Exodus 32:1–14 |
| Psalm | Psalm 106:1–6, 19–23 |
| Epistle | Philippians 4:1–9 |
| Gospel | Matthew 22:1–14 |
Lord, we pray that your grace may always precede and follow us, that we may continually be given to good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.
I arrive at the table before you, yet often struggle with feelings of unworthiness. My doubts join my failures and fears, where you keep extending your invitation. You divide the bread and fill the cup to declare it belongs to me. The nature of that love escapes my comprehension, though I yearn to learn. You chose to wash their feet, even performing this act for the one who would betray you. You shared that meal despite their future betrayal. You love us even when we fail. Allow me to join you at your table, because you say I belong there. Amen.
▶ | Hear These Lessons Preached Palmer Memorial Episcopal Church, Houston · October 2017 |
“Then, in order that not even these should put confidence in their faith alone, He discourses unto them also concerning the judgment to be passed upon wicked actions … For the garment is life and practice.” And on how grace and diligence hold together: “And yet the calling was of grace; wherefore then does He take a strict account? Because although to be called and to be cleansed was of grace, yet, when called and clothed in clean garments, to continue keeping them so, this is of the diligence of them that are called. The being called was not of merit, but of grace. It was fit therefore to make a return for the grace.”
“Deliver us from the presumption of coming to this Table for solace only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal. Let the grace of this Holy Communion make us one body, one spirit in Christ, that we may worthily serve the world in his name.” — The Prayer Book knows there is a way of sitting down at the feast that is still a refusal of it.
“I am drawn to understand this double parable through the lens of James 2, and the tension between his affirmation that one’s faith can be seen in one’s “works” (by which he means deeds, especially deeds of justice and compassion), and Paul’s more famous affirmation (in Galatians and Romans) that our standing before God depends only on our acceptance of God’s grace.”
“The challenge of the story lies both in the warning about refusals and in the richness of the image of salvation as a feast … Beyond the strategy to save the party at the story level is the much richer notion of God’s generosity, not as an afterthought, but as God’s enthusiastic being and delight in all people, and pain at their refusal to share the life freely offered.”
This parable continues themes from the preceding lessons in the Matthean text. One of those themes is greatly defined by Jesus’ own mission in contrast to the authorities of his own day, and by the contrast between the growing Matthean community and the religious authorities some sixty or so years after Jesus’ resurrection. We can do a great deal of harm if we are not again careful with how we set up this parable. The danger for the preacher is that the divisions of the past can easily slip into hatred for others today. I would think that no good preacher wishes, intentionally or unintentionally, to create hatred for any ethnic or religious group. Moreover, when we focus on this one aspect of the text we completely miss what the text is saying to us today.
The second theme is the one that I think has the most traction from our pulpits today in our particular context. We are a church that is in the midst of a great and diverse global society. We are a church that sits ethnically divided and does not typically represent the community around us. It is easy to see this when we graph out the ethnic diversity of our church, or the age diversity of the church.
The second theme of the text is that the kingdom of God is passing from one generation to another. The kingdom of God was once something that meant belonging to a particular group; but now, through the ministry and mission of Jesus Christ and the work of the Holy Spirit, God’s fuller plan of inviting the whole world into fellowship and kinship is underway.
The parable tells us first and foremost that the kingdom of God is — and will be in the end — the fulfillment of a universal mission.
The cautions of the text are well put by the scholars Allison and Davies, who write in their third volume on Matthew:
The evangelist was all too aware that criticism of others as well as the doctrine of election are both fraught with moral peril; for the former tends to nourish complacency — censure of our enemies always makes us feel better about ourselves — while the latter can beget feelings of superiority … Thus it is that Christian readers of 22:1–14, who necessarily identify with those at the king’s banquet, cannot read the text and feel self-satisfaction over the wrath that overtakes others. They must, as the homilies on this text throughout the centuries prove, instead ask whether they are like the man improperly clothed, whether they are among “the many” despite profession to be among “the few.” God’s judgement comes upon all, including those within the ecclesia.
In this light, and in light of the particular reflection of the kingdom of God we offer as a church, we might readdress the parable and ask ourselves the following questions. Are we going out on behalf of our householder? Are we going out and inviting all to come to the banquet feast? Are we accepting the invitation to sit at the table and to invite others? Are we willing to invite, and to sit at the table with, the good, the bad, and the ugly? Are we really interested in sitting in a filled banquet hall? Are we prepared for the feast? The question is not so much, are you wearing the right clothes, but: are you ready to invite, connect, and welcome the people God intends to gather around for the wedding feast?
This Sunday many a sermon will focus on the violence of this parable. Some will focus on the “us and them” reading. Some will speak out only to make the insider feel better. The truth-teller will challenge the community gathered to go out into the streets and gather in God’s people — the sacred people of God, created by God, a diversity of ethnicities and beliefs. Yes, the preacher this week who speaks the truth will be the preacher who challenges our church to a missionary imperative of sharing the Gospel.
No, we do not intend to preach a Gospel that does violence to others, but a Gospel of love that binds us together in the harmony of God’s community. We shall invite with our actions of care and hospitality. We shall gather God’s people in through actions which incarnate the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
I do believe in judgment; it happens every day. But I will tell you that I wish to be judged on the love and the kindness I show to my fellow human beings. I wish to be judged on the Gospel of love which invites all into God’s heavenly embrace. I wish to sit at the table with the good and the bad, the old and the young, people of every color and people of every language. After all… aren’t those always the very best dinner parties?
“The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord; and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be amongst you, and remain with you always.” — Paul’s line to two women who could not agree is the sentence the bishop or priest says over the congregation as it is sent out the door. It was written into a quarrel, and it is pronounced over one.
“Paul’s concern is unity in the church, which can only arise once we recognize our redemption as coworkers for the Lord, giving us a spirit of gentleness, and thereby turning our sight from earthly matters that lead to petty squabbles, derision, and anxiety. Only then can we experience the peace that transcends all understanding.”
“But Paul sees a different reality alongside the violence and duplicity of Rome. The small and struggling Christian congregation in the Roman colony of Philippi is itself a kind of “colony,” a separate polis with a more powerful Lord who alone has defeated death.”
Paul takes a bit of time with the Philippians to warn them of the trouble with appetites that will derail their pilgrimage with Christ. So he comes now back to the intention of these last verses, which is to draw the letter to a close. But he just can’t bring himself to do it. So again he brings up a concern.
There are two individuals in the community, Euodia and Syntyche, and they don’t agree about their understanding of a life lived following Christ. Sound familiar? Moreover, their dispute is causing division in the community. Really! I hope you are reading my sarcasm here. People are not agreeing with one another, and then causing a division. We don’t know which one is the loyal or faithful person, but we do know that Paul believes this is problematic for the mission. Division is problematic, and reconciliation is essential.
So Paul closes the letter reminding them of the need for gentleness and kindness, thanksgiving and peace. God will be faithful in helping them through their divisions and trials. God will come soon. (Paul still believes at the time of this writing that God’s second coming is approaching quickly.) He blesses them and challenges them to be faithful.
This is apostolic leadership. The apostle rises above the division. In a non-anxious way, he points out with clarity that mission is the most important thing. He reminds them of their personal and individual journey with Christ, and how this is important. Then he points out who it is that is causing problems and calls them to be unified. He challenges them to be reconciled one to another so that the mission may be undertaken with faithfulness. And the apostle raises before the community their call to unity and mission, over and above those who are divided.
No matter what the division is, for too long we as leaders have been on the ground mucking it up instead of being the apostolic leaders we are intended to be. I would love to see a unified and prophetic voice rise up from leadership across every church and every denomination, with a vision for evangelism and the cause of Christ — over and above the shouting, the raised fists, and the prophecy bent on dividing the people of God. Now that would be a reformation worth listening for.
“I suggest we discontinue referring to this text as the “golden calf” incident and begin calling it the “God changes God’s mind at the request of Moses” incident.”
“With the golden calf narrative, preachers have an opportunity to explore with their congregations the stunning, and even surprising, character of God and God’s way with the world.”
The commandments have been given to Moses and to the people. But Moses is delayed in coming back. So the people do what people do all the time: in the absence of leadership and of God, they make gods, idols.
It is possible that the story of the golden calf is actually a reference to a dispute between the later Northern and Southern kingdoms. See 1 Kings 12:28–30, where the story might link up and reveal that the purpose here isn’t just that Israel has one God, but that Israel has one place of worship and one kingdom. But let us not dismiss the story too quickly as a mere historical controversy in narrative form.
Essentially what happens is that God gets upset at the idol-making, the people plead with God not to be so angry, and God allows for a bit of grace. Moses gets angry and smashes the tablets. Aaron offers a lame excuse and blames the people. Then there is some killing as punishment, while the rest of the people are spared.
Interestingly, Rabbi Abraham Ben Meir Ibn Ezra, in his Torah commentary, believes that we get the story confused. The idols were not to take God’s place, but instead to take Moses’ place. They were to become the means by which, in the absence of a leader, the people could commune with God.
They felt that they themselves did not have access to the Almighty. Only somebody of great charisma and ability could have access to him. The people sinned because they were perplexed. Moses has been gone for a long time … They did not understand that, while Moses was the greatest of all prophets and the greatest of all men, every Jew has access to God … Sometimes it is a sense of one’s greatness that causes sin; sometimes it is a sense of one’s smallness.
Finally, Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, the former Chief Rabbi of England, puts it eloquently: “Every Jew is an equal citizen of the republic of faith, because every Jew has access to its constitutional document, the Torah.” (Radical Then, Radical Now, 129)
For the Christian, then, this story is not truly about replacing God with other, lesser gods. It is about believing that man-made items will touch the divine in such a way as to help us with our fear, our anxiety, our sense of lostness, despair, and hopelessness. For the Christian, we have not the church as an idol, nor clergy, nor morality, nor any other stand-in. Instead, we have the life of Jesus as our mediator, in whom all are made citizens of the reign of God.
The man without a robe had accepted the invitation and still came entirely on his own terms. Where have you said yes to God and then set the conditions yourself?
The people at Sinai did not ask for a different God. They asked for something they could see while the leader was away. What have you made to stand in for God’s absence?
