Homily — Sunday, 12 October 2008

Texts:
Isaiah 25:1-9
Psalm 23
Philippians 4:1-9
Matthew 22:1-14

Come to the Table, Come to the Feast 
And let your heart be changed, let your life be freed
(and in the spirit of we teach what we need to know…I preach what I need to hear!)

The closing of the gospel parable of the Wedding Feast from today’s readings today is pretty sobering to meditate upon…
“For many are called, but few are chosen.”

My reading of Matthew’s parable of the Wedding Feast might instead reflect a full invitation and challenge to us all who are called to follow Jesus —  
“Many are called, but few choose to come, especially with their whole heart.”

In today’s lessons, the texts utilize common images of the table and of festivals — images not ultimately based in judgment, but rather based in the spirit of the wide open invitation to join in the joy, and freedom, and healing found in God’s feast of love. 

From book of the Prophet Isaiah, we have detailed imagery of what Yahweh offers — a beautiful open festival table, available to all: 

“On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear.”

From the pastoral images of Psalm 23, the image of the table being prepared, even in the midst of strife, and dark valleys, and enemies:

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;  you anoint my head with oil;  my cup overflows.”

And then the story in Matthew’s gospel, the king (read God) who invites all to join a banquet feast in celebration of his son’s (read Jesus’) wedding.

“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!”

The hitch is — those invited do not come.  Those offered a party and feast do not partake. And most disturbing to the King in the parable (and hopefully to us hearing the story again) some of those RSVP’ing not only don’t show up, but actually mistreat and kill the king’s messengers.

If we place ourselves in the first half of this story, we have to examine the question — do we accept the invitation to the Feast? Do we show up to celebrate the occasion and to honor the invitation given? Do we join at the table that is set for us? 
How do we each respond to the gracious offer of a feast of food and love and blessing that God offers us?

Personally, I could only read, with painful wincing, the part of the story that says,

“But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business.”

Oh, ouch. Felt that one. Building on Yonce’s thoughts from last week, I know in so many ways how I make choices every day to ignore the invitation to know and feel God’s heart, to know and to commune with God. What better way to know and feel the heart of God and the hearts of others than over a great plate of food, with a wonderful celebratory glass, with music and joyful dancing swirling in the background? 

We must know that, even in the face of our guilt, the invitation still stands — the door is open, the healing of forgiveness is ever-available, the bountiful table is always set for us. The heart of God wants us, encourages us, begs us to come and join in the feast. 

And in the second half of the parable, we are invited and called to even more. In this fairly perplexing twist of the second story within the story, a guest who accepts the all-call invitation shows up without the wedding robe, without the proper garment. 

Now, I don’t think this is about just the enforcement of a dress code. The commentaries over the centuries seem to point to the robe as a symbol of the response of our heart to the feast. We may come to the table, but how do we really show up? Are we changed by the response … does the coming to the feast God prepared for us actually change our hearts?

Historically great interpreters saw the wedding robe as different metaphorical things — Augustine interpreted it as LOVE;  Luther (why are we not surprised) viewed it as FAITH;  Calvin did a riff on that and spun it as both FAITH and WORKS.

I found one thought about the robe especially interesting, and it related to God’s invitation and call to us. To quote Sam Wells, dean of the chapel at Duke University writing in the most recent edition of the magazine The Christian Century:  

“In the early centuries of the church…When (Christians) heard the word Robe, they thought of one thing:  the baptismal robe. Baptism meant not just a ceremony with words and water, but also a new social location and putting the rest of one’s life in jeopardy in order to enjoy being at the wedding banquet.  If you weren’t prepared to take steps to show that being at the banquet meant everything to you, then you’d best not be there.”

It is in our baptisms that God begins the work of making us into a different type of person. It is in our baptisms that we say yes to the risk of God’s work in us. It is in affirming our baptisms and belief that God’s work of changing our hearts will change us. It is in baptism that we put on the robe of responsibility that leads us to say yes to God’s desire that we show up as agents of love in a hurting world.

Many are called, but few are chosen. 
“Many are called, but few choose to come, especially with their whole heart.”
All of us get the invitation, and some show up, and we are invited to show up with an open heart and allow God’s love and forgiveness and healing to change us. Maybe that’s why it’s easier to ignore the invitation, to pretend that other things are more important. It’s much less scary to just not go, let along to put on the robe!

As you know, in the last years and months, I have been greatly influenced by the experience of my mother’s encounter with cancer, with her living in the face of death, and with her passing in June. As a community it seems we all are facing great losses, and I think so much about losing Walt.

Sometimes, in the face of death, we begin to understand the invitation to the table. We can grasp the gist of what is really important in life.  Perhaps that is why, in my research and preparation, I was drawn to this story and quote that speaks of what that transformation might look like if we can allow God’s heart to influence our hearts. 

Walter Bouman, who for decades taught at Trinity Lutheran Seminary in Columbus, died in 2005 of inoperable cancer. Earlier that year he had received the news that he had only a few months to live. Someone who knew him well remarked that his dying was "faithful, worldly, wise and marked with humor."

In one of his final sermons, Bouman spoke about the freedom of the Christian: 

"The resurrection of Jesus Christ frees us," he announced,
"to do more with our lives than protect them.
We are free to offer them.
We are called to love the world,
to want clean air and water for everyone,
to give ourselves to the service of peace
instead of blindly following our leaders in senseless wars,
to commit to the cause of justice,
especially when our institutions and our country are guilty of injustice.
This is a big order.
But you are free to pursue it by the resurrection of Christ,
who has put an end to the dominion of death.
We are free for the battle because the victory is already won."

[Quoted in John M. Buchanan, "Teaching Moments,"
Christian Century, September 20, 2005, p. 3.]

This freedom to live as forgiven people is at the core of our invitation to the table, to the feast of God.  In a few moments, the table will again be set for us … God asks us to come, and enjoy, and to be strengthened by that Feast of Victory. Offered to us is Christ’s sacrifice for us, God’s love embodied.

May God help us accept the invitation to the Feast, and may God’s Spirit allow us, as a Community and as individuals, the space and the grace to be daily changed. May God’s Spirit help us to be faithful to the call, to put on our robes, and to be daily witnesses to God’s boundless love and the desire for justice.    

Amen

— Dianne Russell

For the homily hymn, I’d like to offer a song by Ray Makeever, “Between the Times”

I offer this song because sometimes, believing connecting with God’s heart and staying rooted in God’s love is hard
…for us as individuals as we go through hard times, and for us as a Community as we seek to discern God’s calling for mission and place and focus…

May we all look to the west…

BETWEEN THE TIMES
Written by Ray Makeever

Once there was river in the valley
With water clear as crystal casting diamonds in the sun
Now the river bed is dry and empty
And no one knows where all the water’s gone

But somewhere from the east there come the memories
That weave the morning sunrise with a river sacrifice
And those who trust the movement of the centuries
Can still see the river flow between the times;
Between the times of plenty, when the water’s just trickle in our lives
At the time that we must grieve, because the words that we believe aren’t coming true
What shall we do between the times?   What shall we do between the times?

Once there was a singer in each person,
With a voice as strong as rain and thunder carried on the wind;
Now the sounds we make seem so uncertain,
that we wonder if we’ll ever sing again;

Somewhere from the north there come the memories
That whisper on the breeze, across the lakes and through the pines
And those that trust the movement of the centuries
Can still hear a song to sing between the times;
Between the times of plenty, when the song is just a whisper in our lives
At the time that we must grieve, because the words that we believe aren’t coming true
What shall we do between the times?   What shall we do between the times?

We will look to the west and behold the holy mountain
You know it’s home to the spirit of all the people come before;
We’re going to put it to the test, it’s the faith that we can count on
All the strength and all the wisdom, all the hope and all the vision,
all the beauty that still lives in them, that in us walk this way once more…

Once there was a road that led to freedom
Where kindness walked with truth and peace, and justice led the way
Now the people look for one to lead them, and we weep to see the children go astray;

But somewhere from the south there come the memories,
Of the land of milk and honey and the promised rainbow sign;
And those who trust the movement of the centuries
Can still walk along the road between the times  
Between the times of plenty, when freedom is imprisoned in our lines
At the time that we must grieve because the words that we believe aren’t coming true
What shall we do between the times?
What shall we do between the times?