Matthew 22:1-14
Around 30 of the common era, families of ancient Israel practiced the daily and weekly, ordinary and mundane hand washings and boundaries, sacrifices and sabbath-keeping as well as the holidays and festivals of ancient Judaism. Some of these families hear of a rabbi-prophet-radical from Galilee named Jesus, one of their own, a Jewish man of similarly humble origins—but wise and inspired. They begin to follow him, to listen to him. They are healed by him, fed by him. In response to his teaching, they turn the other cheek, love their enemies, pray for those who persecute them. Jesus receives them into a new way, even though they probably continue their lifelong religious practice. When Jesus is killed, they hear he is raised from the dead, and they continue to practice what he preached, to tell his stories to their children. They live with hope that the kingdom of God will come in the way Jesus described. They are Jewish, yet they follow the teachings of Jesus. Now, their religious practice is not so clear, and their identity is even murkier. Do they keep the Sabbath the way they always did? Do they wash their hands ritually? Do they practice sacrifice in the temple? What is their relationship with Jewish folks who continue to practice just as they always have and choose not to follow the way of Jesus? These now Jewish-Christian families form congregations, churches that meet in secret because their religion is not sanctioned by the Roman Empire. Instead of worshiping the emperor as the son of God, they worship Jesus as the son of God. And of course, the Roman military occupies Israel. A generation passes away and another rises up, still with these questions about identity and relationship with other Jews. In 70 of the common era, the Roman military destroys the temple in Jerusalem, destroys the center of Jewish religious life, destroys hope and further confuses a people who follow Jesus and also follow Jewish religious teachings and practices. 10 to 20 years later, the gospel of Matthew is written—for these Jewish Christians.
For whom the gospel of Matthew is written makes a difference in the content. Just as medical journals are written for medical professionals, children’s books for children, and an email from your mother written to you, the gospel of Matthew was written for a particular group of people, namely Jewish-Christians. Proportionally, the number of Christians in the first century who came from Jewish backgrounds was quite a small number. The gospels of Mark, Luke, and John were written for the majority of first century Christians who were of Gentile background. But Matthew was written for Jewish Christians. We can tell by the preponderance of Old Testament quotes, by the importance of Joseph’s role in Jesus’ birth, by the absence of stories where Jesus encounters a Gentile person—with one lonely exception.
In today’s parable, Jesus tells an odd story, a story full of violence about a king whose wedding guests fail to appear, except for some guests who show up only to mistreat and murder the king’s slaves. Dishonored by their absence and by their killing of his slaves, the king sends his army to kill the absent guests and sends his remaining slaves into the streets to invite anyone they meet, both “good” and “bad,” to the wedding banquet. When the king notices one particular guest not wearing the provided wedding robe, he questions the guest and then sends him into the outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Why is there so much violence in this parable, and what is the good news? The question of the day is: What good news do you hear in this parable? Refer to the Facebook live stream feed to read the community reflections.
The only way I can make sense of today’s parable is by remembering the particular historical situation in which this story was told and retold and then finally written down.
In today’s parable, the people the king invited to his wedding banquet dishonor him by not showing up, and the friend who fails to wear the wedding robe ignores the details of the invitation. For people who are grateful to be invited, for the good and bad who stream into the king’s wedding banquet, properly robed, those who deigned to show up and refused the wedding robe are a curiosity, both because they dishonor a powerful king and because the banquet is total gift. Why would someone say “thanks but no thanks” to an extravagant wedding banquet?
I wonder if this parable includes so much violence simply because violence was the order of the day, a stew from which first century Christians, especially Jewish Christians, could not escape, a force that shaped their lives. I wonder if the first Jewish-Christian storytellers who passed on this story from their generation to the next saw in Jesus’ parable an indictment of those faithful Jewish people who chose not to follow Jesus, in particular the Judean leaders who, from the perspective of a common person, should have been the first to follow Jesus. I wonder if the Jewish-Christian community who first heard this parable saw the friend without a wedding robe as a person who wouldn’t give up their possessions and follow Jesus, a person who wasn’t willing to go the distance with their discipleship. And I wonder if they heard truly good news for them in a God who didn’t just invite the powerful and the mighty to an extravagant wedding banquet but instead searched the streets and avenues for both the good and bad, who received anyone who showed up and wanted to follow Jesus.
Maybe the good news of this parable is slim pickings to us. With the violence of this parable, God doesn’t appear all that gracious. But the parable does tell us the kingdom of God is like a wedding banquet where, whether you’re good or bad, you’re accepted. As long as you show up. As long as you’re there because you want to be there, you want to follow. There’s no need to prove yourself worthy. There’s no background check. There’s no credit report. There’s no entrance exam. If you show up, you’re in. You’re loved. You’re accepted. You are guests of the king at a wedding banquet that can’t be beat. Thanks be to God! Amen.