Recently I was I a small
gathering listening to someone complain about people who can’t seem to make
commitments. He said, “This is what they do. You say to them ‘I’m having a
party a week from next Tuesday, and I’d like you to come. And they say, ‘Well,
I don’t know – I’ll have to see if I can make it.’ And you think to yourself,
‘What’s up with that? why don’t they check their calendar and, if a week from
next Tuesday is free, say they’ll be there?’ and we all said, yeah, why don’t
they do that?
“Well, I’ll tell you what
it is,” he went on. “They don’t have anything on their calendar for a week from
next Tuesday. Nothing They just want to keep their options open, in case
something better comes up. They just want to be available for a better offer.”
I nodded and nodded. Believe
me, I know. Six years of planning weekly events for college students, I learned
that pretty quickly. Some students, you knew, would definitely be there. They
would have this event on their calendars and they would be there. Others would
definitely be there 1) if they had not already made plans, or 2) if something
better didn’t come up during the week between the invitation and the actual
event, or 3) if while they were walking to the event they didn’t happen to get
distracted by a more appealing invitation, in which case they would turn around
and go the other way. We have so many options; we seem to always suspect that
there is something better out there just beyond the horizon, that we should be
holding out for.
While this might be true, I
still have a hard time understanding why these people in Jesus’ story would
refuse to come to the king’s wedding banquet. Because, do they really think
they’re going to get a better invitation than that?
It’s a somewhat puzzling
story, not to mention a disturbing story. I have heard it said that in
Matthew’s gospel you never want to be called “friend.” Anytime someone is
called “friend, it’s like a warning of bad things to come. As in this parable,
where the one who is called “friend” is thrown into the outer darkness where
there is, predictably, weeping and gnashing of teeth.
It is just one of many
disturbing things about this parable. The violence seems out of proportion to
the story. So it becomes important to remember two things: first, that parables
are never meant to be taken literally, and 2) we need some historical context
to put it in.
The most disturbing and
confusing features of this parable can only be understood if we realize that
the gospel was written by a people who had a long history with God, which we
know from the Old Testament scriptures; a history full of ups and downs, ins
and outs, times of exile and war, all of which were seen as being guided by the
hand of God. What’s more, at the time this was written, Matthew’s audience, the
church, lived in animosity between themselves and the leaders and people of
Israel, from whom they had not long ago separated. The story we hear in this
passage reflects the fears, resentments, and terrors they had known.
The historical context
helps, but even with all that I am still left with this biggest question: I
wonder why they refused to go to the banquet.
Why would the people refuse
to come to the royal banquet, the best invitation they will ever get in their
entire lives? Nothing better than this is going to be popping up. This is it.
Clearly, they are not
honored to be included on the guest list, and I can only imagine why that is so.
Perhaps they are not aware of just how gracious this invitation is. Perhaps
they receive the invitation and they see that it is a black-tie event. And they
say, what a nuisance. I’d have to get my tuxedo cleaned. Is it really worth the bother?
Perhaps they know that this
king has a reputation for inviting some pretty sketchy people. They know that
he is inclined to send his servants out to the highways and byways to scatter
invitations among the not-so-elite crowd; people who smell bad and don’t know
which fork to use. They think, heavens – do I really want to spend an evening with those people?
Perhaps they think that
they would like to go to the king’s banquet sometime, but they are just not
ready now. They don’t feel like it right now. They would like to have a rain
check. They think, can’t we do this little banquet thing at a time that is more
convenient for me?
Perhaps they want to set
the time and the terms, because they feel they are entitled to have it their
way. Perhaps they don’t appreciate the profound grace that has just been
offered them. We have what we might call a problem of entitlement here.
This is an interesting word
– entitlement. it carries a lot of baggage for many of us. When we first began
discussing it at the roundtable this week, we treaded careful around it because
everyone has opinions about entitlements – mostly about other people’s
entitlements. The word has become a catchword in our society for what is also
known as welfare. When we think of entitlements we think of Medicaid, food
stamps, disability. But entitlement programs also include, of course, Social
Security, Medicare, and federal and military retirement plans. Entitlement
programs are simply programs that provide some financial benefit to those who
are eligible for them, and those who are eligible have a legal right to them. Essentially,
all entitlement programs are designed to ensure that people get what they need.
But in a more general
sense, entitlement simply means that to which you are entitled. To feel
entitled is to believe you have something coming to you.
It becomes a problem if we
start to believe that we are, somehow, entitled to more than others; if we
start to believe that, for some reason, we are more entitled. A sense of
entitlement can make us incapable of gratitude. Because what is there to feel
grateful for, if it is a matter of getting merely what you deserve?
And the truth of the matter
is that, when it comes to God’s grace, none of us are entitled. Not one of us
is more deserving than anyone else when it comes to God’s gracious invitation
to life.
Years ago, I worked as a
Director of Christian Education in a congregation in Pennsylvania. And it came
time to start a confirmation class, which meant all kinds of things that needed
to be done. It meant sitting down with the pastor and the teachers and setting
the dates, outlining the curriculum, and laying out the rules. It meant going
through the rolls to see who all might be participating in the confirmation
class, and making phone calls to all these families.
There were always some families
who had practically dropped out of the church, but not quite. Some kids who
hadn’t been to Sunday school in years, whose parents rarely came to church. But
these parents, although they had practically dropped out themselves, for
reasons of their own, wanted their children to be confirmed. This was why
requirements had to be made clear, terms had to be negotiated. For families who
rarely participated, we needed to make sure it was clear that full
participation was expected.
I remember one family who
fell in this category. I actually had never met the girl because it had been so
long since she or her mother had been at church. There had been a time when
this woman was very active in the congregation – chairing committees, and such
as that. But I suppose things had changed in her life. When she was contacted,
however, she was clear: yes, she did want her daughter to be confirmed.
An orientation session was
held with the kids and their parents. This mother and daughter did not make it
to the session, but we talked by phone later and yes, she did still want to
participate.
Classes began. And this
girl did not show up at the first class. So I called her mother again to try to
find out if they really wanted to do this. And if they did, how could I help.
The phone conversation was not easy. The mother was not happy about having any
requirements pressed upon her and, I suspect, her daughter didn’t really want
to participate because, after all, she did not know these other kids; she did
not really know this congregation and probably didn’t know why it was important
for her to go.
As I tried to pry something
out of the woman – either a commitment or a withdrawal – I could hear the
resentment over the phone line, especially when she finally said to me, “You
know, I was running things in this church long before you folks ever showed
up.”
The invitation to the royal
banquet is sent out, but those who receive it are unimpressed. Later a summons
is sent, but the invitees coolly ignore it. Perhaps they did not know what they
were being invited to, who was inviting them.
While confirmation class is
not the king’s banquet, it is one path meant to show us the way. We have all
been invited to the banquet, and what do we do to prepare ourselves for it? Do
we even prepare ourselves for it?
If you feel entitled to
your place at the table, you might not be the slightest bit motivated to
prepare yourself for it.
But not one of us is
entitled to it. Not one of us has earned a place at God’s table, and none of us
is any more worthy than another. All of us are sorely in need of the grace God
offers us when the invitation is extended. It doesn’t matter if you were on the
A-list or the D-list, if you came from the banquet-going class or from the
highways and byways, pulled in from the streets.
You are not entitled to a
place at the table. Nonetheless, you have been offered one. And for this we
might be grateful.
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