Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost
October 15, 2023
Matthew 22:1-14

The audio of this sermon can be found on the podcast page. The video can be found on the Trinity Episcopal Church YouTube channel.

These are dark times. You know them as well as I do. A brutal, grinding war of attrition in Ukraine. A horrendous terrorist attack in Israel. Civilian suffering, and death, on an incomprehensible scale in Israel and Gaza. Our own government is fractured, hardly able to govern itself. And there is more. Long simmering civil wars, famines, tyrannies in all corners of the earth. I have only dark feelings and dark words in these dark times. 

So we come to church for hope, for good news, for grace. We come to hear Jesus’ message of love, but even here we are faced with darkness. A wedding banquet that no one wants to attend. An enraged king. And then a man thrown out of the banquet simply because he’s not wearing the right clothes. Thrown into the outer darkness. 

The outer darkness. Exactly what we are feeling today. 

Now I want to point something out about this parable, this wedding banquet, the missing robe, and the outer darkness. Wedding robes in the time of Jesus were not fancy, elaborate costumes. This is not a tuxedo or an evening gown. No, the idea of a wedding robe, like the one Jesus is talking about, was a simple affair, and cheap, cheap enough for anyone. The idea of a wedding robe is that it makes all the guests equal. The fact that the man does not wear a wedding robe is not that the man couldn’t afford it. It’s not that the man couldn’t get one. No, it’s that the man simply refuses to wear a wedding robe. It’s not a matter of capacity, it’s a matter of intention. The banquet is free and open to anybody, everybody, but you have to want to be there, you have to want to be part of it. If you don’t want to wear the robe, then why even bother to show up to the banquet?

Remember, this is a parable, it’s supposed to make us think. So think about it. The man comes to the banquet but by his own actions he shows that he doesn’t actually want to be there. The king is not judging the man. No, the man has judged himself. He has chosen not to wear the robe, he has chosen not to belong. And so, he brings the consequence on himself.

I hope you see it. This is a parable about us. Oh, we’d like to think that we would be in the party. But take a look around. The world that you see, the world that seems to be falling apart, the world of terrorist attacks and airstrikes and bombs and torture – this is the weeping, this is the gnashing of teeth. This is the outer darkness. We are in it even now. We humans have chosen it.

Isn’t it strange? We read this story and get all bent out of shape about it. “How could God allow such a thing, how could God say such a thing?” That is such a cop out. The real question should be, “how could we allow such a thing?” Knowing this God love, how can we stomach such ghastly horrors? How can we allow suffering on this scale? How can we allow children to go hungry at night? How can we allow such hatred to fester among races and peoples? This parable is not so much about the final judgment that God brings on us in some distant future. No, I think this parable is a mirror to our lives. Will we chose the light or the outer darkness? Will we wear the robe of grace, or will we go our own way, into the outer darkness? 

I don’t think this parable is a warning from God to make sure we chose heaven instead of hell. No. It’s about how we are going to live now, on this earth. Will we live with each other, in joy and and peace and grace and abundance at the wedding banquet? Or will we live against each other, and suffer the consequences, of weeping and gnashing of teeth in the outer darkness? It is apparent to me, from what I’m seeing on the news, from what I know of my own life, more often than not we opt for the outer darkness. 

But not always. 

In the midst of these dark times, dark words, dark feelings, we also celebrate the light. The goodness of God. The grace of a community. The gifts of love so freely given to us. Today, we celebrate a baptism, little Scott Hughes. Even with wars around the world, even tragedy and evil, we still gather to celebrate and to hope. Even with so much darkness, we know that there is still light in this world. 

In the ancient church, when you hadn’t been baptized yet, you were called the “photozomenoi.” I just had to throw a little Greek at you. “Photozomenoi.” That means, “those who are being enlightened.” Today we are praying that little Scott Hughes would be enlightened by God. And in turn, that light would so shine through him, the light of God would so radiate from him, that the outer darkness would be pushed back. And that’s why we are all renewing our own baptismal vows today. To fan the flames of the light within, to remember that it is far better to be in the light of the wedding banquet than in the darkness of our own choosing. That instead of weeping with horror we can weep with joy. That instead of grinding our teeth in agony and loneliness and hatred, we can use our teeth to eat the banquet God has laid before us.

I think right now, we need to hold in mind these two separate but equal truths. There is evil and darkness in this world. And there is also goodness and light. There is both cross and resurrection. We celebrate the new life come into this family, and we also remember the ones who are not here. It is all right in front of us. Right within us. 

And I know, the last line in the passage can be frightening. “Many are called but few are chosen.” And so we wonder – are we actually wearing the wedding robe? Are we actually in the banquet? Sure, we’ve been baptized, invited in, but have we been chosen? But remember, if we want to be in the wedding banquet, you are in the wedding banquet. If you want to be part of it, you are already part of it. If you want to love, you have already chosen love. The great poet Thomas Merton once wrote that the desire to please God does in fact please God.¹ This is not a parable about wearing the right costume, it’s a parable about the intention of your heart. Even in these dark times. 

Dark times. Much like yesterday around noon. This is the image I’m holding on to, yesterday’s eclipse. For thousands of years, humans have been at war with each other for one reason or another. The hardness and evil of our hearts have blotted out the light of God’s love. Like a noonday eclipsed sun, the human capacity to sin has created this world of gloom. But this is only temporary. We hope and trust in a God that will, one day, cast away the works of darkness. Every baptism is a sign of our confidence in God, in God’s light that will overcome the darkness. And our baptism, our enlightenment, allows us to see ahead. In the times of Jesus it was the wedding robe, the baptismal gown. 

For us, yesterday, it was our special eclipse glasses. You have these right? They allow you to see the brightness of it all, to see through the darkness. To see that yes, indeed, the sun is still as bright as ever though it might not look like it now. Hang on to these glasses. Don’t throw them away, and buy a new set when the next eclipse comes. Because you know, there’s going to be another next year. I checked. April 8, 2024. Mark your calendars. Hang on to your glasses as a reminder, as a hope, that even in the darkness, you can see the light of God. 

And today, we renew our baptismal vows, we put on our wedding robes, so that we can look fully at the blazing love that God has for us. And though dimmed for a time, though muted, though gloomy, we know that soon and very soon, that light of God’s love will be fully restored. Wars will be made to cease, famine will turn to abundance, hatred to understanding. This is the Christian hope. Yes, it looks far off. But we see bits of it – in Scott’s baptism, in communion, in each other. God is not done with this world yet. Put on your wedding robes and help the church cultivate love. Put on your glasses to see all that the Holy Spirit is up to, even now. 

And so I end with words of hope. Words of hope that Saint Paul wrote from his darkened prison cell. For he, too, could see the light. “Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.” (Philippians 4:8-9).

1.  “The Merton Prayer | Reflections.” Accessed October 13, 2023. https://reflections.yale.edu/article/seize-day-vocation-calling-work/merton-prayer. ↩︎