Preached at Holy Cross, Seend and St Mary’s, Potterne
Readings: Philippians 4.1–9; Matthew 22.1–14
“The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city.”
Today’s Gospel reading is all about judgement – severe judgement at the hands of a powerful king who is clearly meant to represent God the Father – and we don’t like it. We want Jesus to be the meek and mild gentle Jesus who cuddles lambs. Talk of divine judgement scares us. Probably we should indeed have a healthy respect for it, although if any of us is genuinely consumed by fear of it, we’ve either misunderstood Jesus Christ or perhaps misunderstood ourselves.
We may not like to contemplate judgement, but without it there is no justice. A Christianity without judgement is one where Jimmy Savile and Joseph Stalin get away with it, perhaps after God tells them how very naughty they’ve been. That may be the action of a God who is good, but certainly not a God who is just.
So unwelcome is the idea of divine judgement – especially from this unbending and angry king – that the Internet is full of sermons on this Gospel reading ducking it entirely, saying things like the king isn’t really meant to be God, and Jesus is identifying Himself with the man without the wedding garment cast into the outer darkness. No way, José. That parable is about divine judgement. That should be obvious since Jesus is telling it to the chief priests and Pharisees, the top holy men of His world, in the Temple, which is their stronghold. It is just before the Passover festival in which they’ll plot and bribe one of Jesus’ closest friends to betray Him, and then they’ll have Him killed. They may not have worked out the details, but they know where they are heading. Here, He is warning these holy men that they are embarked on their own destruction, a terrible and violent destruction exacted by God but provoked by their own cruelty, arrogance, and stupidity. A few decades later, Jesus’ prophecy would be fulfilled when the Romans destroyed Jerusalem.
In fact, this is the third Sunday in a row to give us a parable Jesus told to the Jewish leadership in the Temple in Holy Week. Each warns of the loss of the kingdom, or of destruction..
So this isn’t about us, is it? We aren’t top holy men and we aren’t plotting to have Jesus killed. We’re just ordinary Christians, trying to follow Him faithfully even through our moments of stupidity and moral laziness and all the normal run of human failings. We aren’t perfect – but none of us is beating God’s servants or anything like that, or at least I hope we aren’t.
Our first reading, from St Paul’s letter to the Philippians, has a little aside about two of the first Christians who are quite like us in their failings. They are two women called Euodia and Syntyche. Paul says they have been great workers for the Church, but they seem to have fallen into squabbling. He doesn’t threaten them with outer darkness or gnashing of teeth, but tells their friends to stage an intervention, to get them to pull up their socks. Hold on to that thought – Paul’s suggested remedy for them matters for the man without a robe.
So we don’t have anything to worry about, then? Well, the final part of our Gospel certainly contains a warning for us. In this Gospel reading, we aren’t those who are invited to the banquet – we aren’t part of God’s original chosen people, the Jewish people, led by the chief priests and the Pharisees. Instead, we’re the outsiders; we’re the people, good and evil, whom the king sent His servants to bring to His banquet when the original guests scoffed at it and ignored the invite.
Is there any chance we’re the man with the wedding robe? This poor cratur is one of those the king’s servants brought in from the streets – he’s one of us – but when the king notices he doesn’t have a wedding robe, he’s turfed into the outer darkness, to wail and gnash his teeth. We need to remember that Jesus’ parables aren’t court reports; they’re there to make us think and teach us at a deeper level than commands and rules can. And this parable is clearly important – Jesus starts it by saying it’s what the Kingdom of God is like.
What the wedding garment represents is a bit mysterious. But there is clearly something here about not comporting ourselves appropriately to the banquet to which God has called us. What is the banquet to which God has called us? The Eucharist we gather to celebrate this morning is part of it, of course. But that meal we share here should make us fit for the Great Banquet in heaven. You and I and the person you fought with about the flower rota ten years ago are called to eternal life with God, and are called to be signs of that eternal life while we’re here on this Earth. That is not something we should be casual about.
Now, God didn’t send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save it. The same Jesus Christ who will be our judge is also the Jesus Christ who died on the cross to save us. We shouldn’t fear that the God who called us to follow Him is going to go out of His way to get us. But perhaps we can be so casual about our calling that we lose our hold on it?
This is a good chance to remind you of the importance of confession and absolution in the Anglican tradition. In every service, there is a prayer in which we confess together that we have sinned – take that moment to bring whatever is weighing on your conscience to God in your own heart. As Anglicans, we are trusted to do that ourselves, but I or another priest can hear your confession in person if something is troubling your conscience – people think that is just a Roman Catholic thing, but we offer it also, although it isn’t compulsory: all may avail of it, and some should, but none must do so.
But take this quite intimidating Gospel as a chance to review your Christian calling. Have you started to neglect it a bit? Take it too much for granted, perhaps? All of us do, from time to time. So put on your wedding garment because God is calling us to an eternal banquet. A great party, where we will be served the finest things in a mood of celebration. God isn’t calling us to austerity and fear but to joy and abundance.
What does Paul tell those Philippians? Always rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. Don’t worry about things, but take your needs to God in prayer. Fill your minds with whatever is true, honourable, just, pure, and lovely. Good advice for the whole Church, and perhaps even a working description of the wedding garment we should put on. If you do that, then Paul says God’s peace, which surpasses all understanding, “will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
And if the Gospel sounds hard sometimes, remember only a hard Gospel is any use in a frequently harsh world, and in dealing with people who can be hard. But it is not only God’s justice that exceeds human capacity, but also His mercy. If you’re worried you might have forgotten your wedding garment, then turn back to God, who is always ready to forgive.
And now to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, be ascribed all might, majesty, dominion, and power, as is most justly His due, now and for evermore. Amen.