Twentieth Sunday after Trinity

St. Matthew 22:1-14

October 13, 2024

+INJ+ Last Sunday we heard about nakedness and clothing. There is the nakedness of man’s sin and shame, and the clothing of Christ’s righteousness, given in Holy Baptism. What we have at the end of today’s parable is a man who rejects that clothing. He refuses the wedding garment, he refuses Christ’s righteousness. He wants life, he wants the kingdom on his own terms.

The same thing is going on at the beginning of the parable. What is a parable? It’s a story with you in it. And in the Bible, it’s a story with Christ in it. If you get those wrong—if you mistake yourself for Christ—you’ll end up with a different kind of religion altogether.

Today, Jesus tells a story about a king who issues invitations for his son’s wedding. “But they made light of it.”

That’s the story of the human race. Offered astounding gifts from God, “They made light of it.” Why? Their devotion was to work. They pursued money, and were never content. They lived as if the king did not matter, for the farm and business mattered most. And you? Do you live as if God did not matter and as if you mattered most? What is your money going to get you? “Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy?”

“But they made light of it and went their ways, one to his own farm, another to his business.” This is the story of the world: pursuing the things that do not, will not, cannot satisfy. And not content with that, they kill the king’s messengers (the prophets and apostles). Do you not fear, O man, that one day his armies will be sent for you, and burn up this city? You have studied history. Did you learn from it? How many empires have fallen? How many great armies were defeated? How many cities, thought impregnable, had their walls torn down, their defenses destroyed? Why do you live as if God did not matter, and as if you mattered most?

But you are here in the Church, in the vestibule of the wedding hall. You are here because you desire a different outcome. We have gathered here to wait for the Lord. The hors d'oeuvres are laid out, the musicians are tuning their instruments, but the wedding has not yet started.

How did you get here? A parable is a story with you in it. You have come here by the second invitation. The first invitation rejected, the servants go out to gather up guests from the highways and outer parts, from the Gentiles. We are not the A-listers. Not many famous, not many powerful, not many influencers are called. God has ordered it so that the lowliness of the Church might confound the wisdom of the wise in this age. We are not the A-list. That should humble us.

“Therefore go into the highways,” said the king, “and as many as you find, invite to the wedding.” So those servants went out, “and gathered together all whom they found, both bad and good.”

Which are you? Do you think yourself good? The close of today’s parable is for the person who thinks he is something. “But when the king came in to see the guests, he saw a man there who did not have on a wedding garment.”

The wedding garment is a gift. Your money cannot buy it. Your sincerity cannot earn it. The wedding garment is a gift. We saw Audrey clothed with it last week. Infant Baptism reveals the nature of Baptism. Babies cannot clothe themselves. We receive the kingdom of God as a little child, that is, as someone with nothing to offer, nothing to give, no power to display. The garment of Christ’s righteousness is all gift, all grace, all free.

The person without the wedding garment in the parable has come in not by grace but in pride. If you search the internet for your own name, pride is gaining a foothold in you. If you delight in social media likes, pride is gaining a foothold in you. Pride is in the diva on Broadway … or in the church choir. Pride is in the cunning politician on Capitol Hill … or on the church board. Pride exchanges the wedding garment for a garment of one’s own righteousness. The man without the wedding garment is Judas, and you and I ever stand in danger of becoming Judas, of becoming the betrayer, for pride lurks in the most pious of places.

St. John Chrysostom put it this way: “Show respect for the love of the one who called you, and let no one persist in wearing filthy clothing.” What’s filthy clothing? Pride - and Porn. Gossip - and Greed. Apathy - and Anger. Lust - and Lies. “Don’t you understand,” Chrysostom asks, “Don’t you understand that you are invited to a wedding, God’s wedding? Don’t you give thought to how the soul that is invited into these chambers should enter?”

See how the king addresses the man without the wedding garment. He approaches him with the best of words: “Friend.” It’s a word of rebuke. You have not been the King’s friend. You are a traitor, a spy, and for that you must die. But still, He calls you friend. He means it. He will restore to you still the wedding garment. He will abundantly pardon, richly forgive.

And that’s also how you live. Forgiven much, you also forgive much. Look at the end of today’s Epistle. Here’s what we’re called to: “Submitting to one another out of reverence for Christ.”

What kind of marriage would you have if you did that? What kind of church would we have if we did that – submitted to each other? What kind of city and country would we have? C.S. Lewis describes why a Christian submits: “To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable in others because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.” That’s what the wedding garment does for us: forgives the inexcusable in us. That’s what baptism does, that’s what Christ’s righteousness does. We cover others with the same garment when we forgive them, no matter how inexcusable their sins.

Do not despair. Still your Lord calls you friend. He keeps on saying it until the end. +INJ+