Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time A
In the spring of my first year of seminary study in Rome, my
parents came over for a visit.
This would be their first transatlantic flight, and I wanted to be sure
everything went smoothly during their stay in the Eternal City. I met them at the airport, brought them
into town on the train, and got them settled in their room. My main objective for the rest of that
first day was to keep them awake—knowing that going to bed at a somewhat normal
hour would help them with the jetlag.
So, despite their being rather tired, we walked around quite a bit that
afternoon.
Before heading out to get an early supper, I stopped by the
seminary where I found a message waiting for me at the main gate. It contained some wonderful news: we’d
been granted front row tickets for the next day’s papal audience, which meant
we were going to be able to meet—and get our picture taken with—Pope John Paul
II. So we immediately walked some
more—a brisk half hour across the city—to pick up our prized tickets before the
visitor’s office closed.
In the midst of their exhaustion, and while verifying all
the details for our early start the next morning, I remember my mother’s lone
preoccupation (and she won’t be too pleased that I’m sharing this): she didn’t
have a hairdryer. For the record,
I just looked over those 20-year-old photos and, I must say, even without a
dryer, her hair looks much better than mine!
It’s only natural that we want to look our best—better yet,
be at our best—when we have the high honor of meeting someone of
importance. And that basic human
instinct lies behind the parable we’ve just heard. Often enough (and I’ve done this myself), a preacher will
use this gospel story to remind folks that it’s a good idea to dress up nice for
Mass. But the message Jesus wants
to convey runs far deeper than fashion sense or etiquette.
Jesus tells the story of a king throwing a wedding banquet
for his son; as in all his similar parables, we know that the king must be God
the Father, and the king’s son is, of course, Jesus himself.
Have you noticed in recent years that couples are often
sending out two invitations for their wedding: a first that says, “Save the
date,” and a second that contains all the details? That’s not a new trend, but was the common practice in
Jesus’ day: messengers would be sent out first to tell guests that the big day
was coming, and later to let everyone know the feast was now ready. Who are these two sets of
messengers? First come the
prophets, telling people to prepare, for the Day of the Lord is coming; next sent
are the Apostles, who announce that what was long-awaited has now arrived. And who are the people on that initial
guest list? The people of Israel,
of course.
How is the invitation received? Some choose to ignore it, reneging on their original
acceptance—they have “more important” things to do; others outright spurn it,
attacking the messengers and in so doing rebelling against the one who sent
them. Both responses have dire
consequences. The king’s reaction
is rather startling and severe, but Jesus thus manages to get our attention and
make it clear that, while this is simply a story, the message it conveys is
pretty serious—in fact, a matter of life and death.
When those first invited prove themselves unworthy, the
invitation is then extended far and wide: the mission turns to the
Gentiles. And with his banquet hall
now full, the king goes out to work the crowd a bit, and his attention falls on
one guest in particular: a man without a wedding garment. Don’t be fooled into thinking that a
poor man is being scolded because he failed to rent an expensive tuxedo;
scholars tell us the man simply hadn’t put on a clean outfit. With little notice, my mother managed to
find a way—without a hairdryer—to fix herself up to meet the pope; even with a
last minute invitation, one can find the time to change out of dirty work
clothes before attending a royal wedding.
And as it was for those who disregarded or despised the original invitation,
so too there are consequences for those who would presume to partake of the
feast when not properly prepared.
Hence Jesus concludes, “Many are invited, but few are
chosen.” God’s kingdom is open to
all, but not all will prove worthy of it.
Some will decline the Lord’s invitation, and so exclude themselves;
other will accept the call, but then fail to follow through on all of its
demands.
So, what does all of that mean for you and me in the here
and now? To figure that out, we
need to answer two more questions.
(1) What character is missing from the story? The bride, of course! It’s kind of hard to have a wedding
without her. If the king’s son is
Jesus, then what new reality is being celebrated? The marriage of heaven and earth, of God and man, of Christ
and the Church. Which means that
you are the bride! This parable is
about God’s passionate desire to enter into a personal relationship with you,
to be intimately united with your soul.
(2) And what is the wedding garment we’re expected to
wear? The righteousness that comes
with conversion to Jesus Christ.
What needs changing is not our clothing, but our lives; what needs to be
washed clean is not our laundry, but our hearts. We need to “put on Christ” (cf. Rm 13:14, Eph 4:24, Gal 3:27).
God has graciously extended the invitation, but as to a
response, the choice is completely up to us. This parable reveals four possibilities:
(A) We can ignore it or quietly decline, going back to our
previous pursuits, acting as if nothing was really changed by the life, death,
and resurrection of Jesus, as if nothing new or different is required of us.
(B) We can respond with indignation, get defensive or
hostile, because the invitation to accept a Savior also means admitting that
I’m a sinner who needs saving, and such a call to repentance threatens things with
which I’ve grown quite comfortable, things I’ve convince myself that I need to
be happy.
(C) We can allow our conversion to remain incomplete,
neither ignoring nor refusing the call, but also not permitting our initial
“yes” to carry through into the rest of our day-to-day life, hoping to reap all
the rewards of the kingdom but without having to leave all of our old, sinful
ways behind.
(D) Or, we can wholeheartedly accept it—holding nothing
back.
The King of Heaven
requests the honor of your presence
at a banquet for the marriage of his dearly
beloved Son.
How are you
responding to that personal invitation?
Forget about your hairdryer!
In what sort of garment are you dressing your soul?
No comments:
Post a Comment