28th
Sunday OT
Fr.
Philip Neri Powell, OP
Mt.
Carmel Academy, NOLA
The
truth of the Kingdom has yet to be fully revealed much less
understood. Since parables can take us deeper into the mystery of the
Kingdom of Heaven, Jesus uses them as the only fruitful way of
teaching us the features of the coming reign of God. These short
allegorical stories give us an indirect peek at the bigger truth,
using the ordinary elements of daily life – the familiar people,
places, and things that regular folks see and hear everyday. To
understand the bigger truth a parable reveals, we compare the
elements of the story to what we already know. So, who are we in the
parable of the wedding feast? We aren't the king, his son, or the
soldiers. We could be the guests, though we've been at the party for
a while now. We can't be the poor guy who gets bounced b/c he's
improperly dressed. We're still at the party. That leaves the
servants. We're the servants. The ones sent out by the king to summon
his guests. The ones sent out to rouse the rabble and bring them as
guests to the feast. That's what we do: we go out and invite to the
feast those rarely invited. As servants of the king, we obey the
king.
What
are His orders? “The feast is ready, but those who were invited
were not worthy to come. Go out, therefore, into the main roads and
invite to the feast whomever you find.” Note what's missing from
these orders. We are not ordered to evaluate any potential guest's
wardrobe. We are not ordered to assess their moral worthiness; their
social standing, wealth, health, looks, or family ties. We are not
ordered to invite only those who look like us, sound like us, think
like us, or believe like us. The king's order are crystal clear, “Go
out, therefore, into the main roads and invite to the feast whomever
you find.” Whomever we find might be poorly dressed or morally
rotten; or high-born and ugly as sin; or low-born and beautiful; or
just plain folks with nothing much to do that evening. “Whomever
you find” is an all-encompassing category that makes it very
difficult not to invite whomever we might find. That's our job. It's
what we do. After those we have invited to the feast get here, then
it's the king's job to sort them all out. Not ours. The guy who's
bounced out into the darkness is bounced out into the darkness b/c
he's not properly dressed. In parable-terms, he's not properly
disposed, not internally prepared to receive food and drink from the
Lord's generous table. He's not wearing the heart and mind of one
who's accepted an invitation to party eternally with the Father's
Son.
The
invitation we all receive to party with the Father at His Son's feast
is “come as you are.” Black tie. Business casual. Beach wear.
Whatever you have on is just fine. In fact, the more poorly dressed,
the more poorly disposed we are for the feast, the better. The point
of the feast is not to show off or network, or to advertise your
worthiness for the occasion. The point is to honor and celebrate the
Son's marriage. Thus says the King, “Accepting my invitation makes
you worthy.” But the transformation from unworthy wretch to worthy
guest cannot leave us untouched. You may arrive at the wedding feast
“as you are,” but you stay at the King's table b/c you have
freely given yourself over to the celebration of His Son's marriage.
In other words, no one remains at the feast dressed as they arrived.
And no one leaves unless they are sent by the King to invite others.
Come as you are. Be made worthy. Put on a rich, new wedding garment.
And leave only to spread the word of the King's generosity. The
King's feast has a purpose, a goal: to bring as many in as possible
and transform unworthy wretches into guests worthy of the Son. That
includes you and me.
What
doesn't include you and me is the intimate process of transformation
that the feast begins; that is, the internal work that God alone does
to change an unworthy wretch into a worthy guest. You and I are sent
out to proclaim the invitation that God has made. We are ordered to
invite “whomever we find,” and tell them about the feast. When
they accept the invitation and return with us to the table, we are to
do everything we can to help them stay; everything, that is, except
lie about the transformative nature of the feast itself. We welcome.
We include. We gather up and support. We pay careful attention to our
own made-worthiness, and we even sacrifice to keep God's guests at
the table. But the work of transformation cannot happen if the guest
does not will to be transformed. And we cannot pretend that the feast
does not do what it is designed to do. We cannot lie to the guest or
ourselves and say that there is no need for change, there is no
reason to turn around and face the King. If the guest wills to remain
outside the power of the King's feast, then we can do nothing more
than pray that he will return, inviting him back again and again,
always welcoming, always ready to serve as the King has ordered us to
serve.
Stepping
outside the words and images of the parable, let's say plainly what
must be said. God's invitation to receive His grace through Jesus
Christ is universal. No one is excluded. Never has been, never will
be. As His baptized priests, prophets, and kings, we are charged with
making sure that His invitation to repentance and holiness is heard
over and over and over again. Receiving His grace means repenting of
our debilitating sins, confessing them, and resolving to never commit
them again. It is true that God invites us to come to Him “as we
are.” But the purpose of His invitation is make us holy, not to
affirm us in our sin or to tell us that our sin is not really a sin.
We must not misunderstand His loving invitation to share in His
divine life as a nod of approval or a sign that we are perfect “as
is.” If we are perfect “as is” – sin and all – then why
send His only Son to die for us? Why establish the Church to
administer His saving grace? In fact, why bother with an invitation
at all if there is no one to save? As a Body, we are being challenged
to ignore the need for repentance from sin in favor of being
“welcoming and inclusive,” meaning in practice “pretending that
sin isn't sin.” This is a lie, a deadly lie that kills the
unrepentant and the one telling the lie.
As
with all things Catholic, we are set squarely on the razor's edge,
teetering delicately btw Pharisaical Judgmentalism and Wholesale
Indifferentism. We cannot judge the internal transformation of any
other person, nor can we ignore the obvious public signs that no
transformation has taken place. Judgmentalism makes for a paltry
feast. And Indifferentism renders the feast pointless. If we are to
celebrate and honor the Son's sacrifice for us, then we must work
hard to maintain our balance on that razor's edge: welcome and
include AND expect repentance and transformation. Most especially for
ourselves.
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