A parishioner came up to me after the first Mass this morning and said, "Thanks for that homily, Father. My mother's not Catholic, but she's come with me to Mass many times. And she always says, 'I'll never understand you Catholics! When you come back from Communion, you just don't look happy. Some of you actually look miserable. I'll never figure you guys out!' Father, I can't wait to get home and tell her what you said..."
Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time A
I turned
40 on Wednesday,
and
on Friday night my family threw a party.
It
was a real feast, with lots and lots and lots of food.
But
what made the celebration
wasn’t
nearly as much the cuisine on the table
as
it was those who were gathered together to share it.
I
would have been a bit disappointed, of course,
if
any of the invited guests had failed to appear.
But
just imagine if all the balloons were hung,
the
table was set, the cake was baked…
…and
I hadn’t shown up.
I
sure would have had some explaining to do!
Now,
my birthday party was no royal wedding—
as
we hear about in Jesus’ parable this Sunday—
but
there is a parallel in imagining a grand banquet
to
which the guest of honor never comes,
or
arrives not properly disposed.
When
Jesus tells a story,
we
know it isn’t just a story…and this one is no exception.
The
king is God, and the king’s son is Jesus.
The
wedding banquet is an image of heaven—
but
it’s also the new life God offers us here on earth,
one
that we taste most unmistakably in the Eucharist.
The
king’s servants are prophets and apostles.
The
first guest list is made up
of
those who fail to heed their message;
the
second, of those on the margins.
So
much for what’s in the story.
How
about what’s missing?
All
this talk of a wedding,
and
there’s not a single mention of the bride.
Where
is she?
Better
yet, who is she?
Well,
if the king’s son is Christ,
then
we know that the bride is his Church.
The
bride is you and me.
No
matter the outward appearance of the building—
however
humble or opulent—
whenever
we come to church for Mass,
the
Lord is taking us into his house
and
spreading a table before us
with
juicy, rich food and pure, choice wine.
But
the King gathers us in not just as so many guests:
we
are to enter into an intimate union—a holy communion—
with
his Son.
This
is where heaven and earth, God and man,
come
together to be joined as one.
That’s
how we can make sense
of
some of the stranger twists in this Sunday’s parable.
The
king reacts so strongly to news of his deadbeat guests
because
it’s actually the bride
who’s
failed to show up for his son’s wedding.
And
the king’s feelings are so intense
about
a missing wedding garment
because,
in fact, the bride now shows up…
…but
without putting on her dress.
A
priest friend recently shared with me
an
insight that he’d read or heard
on
our sense of being “invited” by the Lord
to
come here to Mass.
Someone
who receives an invitation to a dinner party
is
free to take it or leave it,
depending
on how interested they are or if they get a better offer.
But
the Eucharist is less like a dinner party
and
more like a family supper.
You
aren’t invited to a regular family supper;
you’re
expected.
Your
absence is noted
because
your presence has been anticipated.
And
if you show up to the table in body
but
your attention is obviously elsewhere,
that
will certainly be noticed, too.
You’ll be missed when you’re missing
You’ll be missed when you’re missing
only
because you’re so deeply loved.
You
are so much more than an invited guest!
Although born a commoner,
you have been chosen to become a member of the royal family.
you have been chosen to become a member of the royal family.
Your
place at the king’s supper table is reserved,
and
this is a standing appointment not to be neglected.
When
I look out into the pews on most Sundays,
to
tell the truth, I see folks who look a lot more
like
they’re at a funeral—quite possibly their own!
What
ought to be seen—on my face as much as yours—
is
the look I see on a bride’s face
as
she takes her walk down the aisle:
smiling,
beaming, unable to hide her happiness and excitement
at
the wonderful thing about to take place.
In
light of Jesus’ challenging parable,
we
all need to stop and ask ourselves:
Why
am I here?
Do
I come to church because of some sense of duty,
to
fulfill a stern obligation, out of fear of hell?
Or
do I come to Mass
because I’m filled with love, joy, and devotion
at
the thought of the one who awaits me here?
If
you’re happy to be here,
then
make sure your heart gets the message to your face!
Your
disposition in coming to Mass
will
affect what you’re able to take from it.
It
will also affect who else decides to join us here.
We
certainly don’t want to leave Jesus jilted at the altar.
But
neither is it enough for us to simply show up.
A
little preparation is required of each one of us.
It
matters how and why we’ve come.
When
Jesus tells a story, it isn’t just a story.
And
when Jesus serves a meal, it isn’t just a meal.
The
Eucharist is a royal marriage banquet—
it
is the wedding supper of the Lamb of God.
Don’t
get caught having to explain your absence!
Come
clothed in joy to be joined again
with
the Bridegroom of your soul.
You've not only been invited—
you've been chosen.
You've not only been invited—
you've been chosen.
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