Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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This story, about a King snubbed by his friends when he invited them to a party, is an allegory: a symbolic narrative, telling one story in the guise of another. What's Jesus really saying here? To crack the mystery, it helps if we understand that, in Jesus' time, the custom was to invite party guests well in advance, and receive their "accepts" or "regrets" at that time, and then to send a courteous reminder, by the hand of a servant, to those who accepted, on the day of the party itself. So here's the real story:

God (the King) had long-ago invited the Jews to his party, to become his people, and they had accepted the invitation, but later, when God (the King) sent the Old Testament prophets (his "servants") to remind the Jews of the covenant they had made with him, they refused to listen. (Even though living by God's law would have been a real party compared to what life was like, in fact, apart from God.) Later God (the King) sent Jesus and the Christian missionaries (another round of "servants") to the Jews, saying "Look, everything's on the table. The prime rib is ready for carving. Come to the feast!" But the Jews refused and again spurned the invitation. Some were simply "too busy," others actually beat up the Christian messengers and killed them." So God (the King), in His anger, sent the Romans (the King's "soldiers") and they leveled the Jews' city, Jerusalem. (Jerusalem had, indeed, fallen to the Romans a few years before Matthew wrote his Gospel.) Now God (the frustrated King) tried a different tact: he sent his servants out into the highways and byways (to non-Jewish places) and invited all the riff-raff, the Gentiles, to the party. He didn't worry about who was righteous and who was not, he simply invited them all, willy-nilly, good and bad. And the Gentiles came, and filled every place at the table. But, it is true, some of the Gentiles presumed on God's grace, felt that since they had gotten in free there was no cost of discipleship - they didn't clothe themselves in righteousness. And these were sorted out in the judgement. "Many are called but few are chosen," the early Christians said at this point. Peterson paraphrases it: "Many get invited, but only a few make it."

That's what the story meant, I think, to Matthew and his readers - and to Jesus when he told it. But all great stories are told and understood on many levels. The party - a wedding reception, actually - was a token of the King's joy. There would be music, and dancing, and sumptuous fare. So the question is, "Why would anyone refuse to come?" Leaving aside the fact that we have all had dismal experiences at parties to which we were delighted to receive invitations, people usually enjoy parties. The Gospel, the "good news" of Jesus Christ can be seen as a party, a feast, an embarrassment of riches. Why don't people accept the invitation? The story hints of one reason: people have other things to attend to. They would never say it this way, but (in fact) the affairs of the world are more important to them than the call of Christ. These are not bad people. They try to squeeze faith in, they try to live a reasonably moral life - they pay their bills and don't beat their wives -- but they just don't have time for Jesus. They miss the joy of it. The Gospel feast goes begging. And all that God did "for us and for our salvation" is lost on them.

When I hear that people are too busy for faith, I try not to become judgmental. I don't say, "You must make time for church, for prayer, for Bible study." (Nobody does anything because of guilt these days. Guilt has been repressed. But there are times when we should feel guilty.) Instead, I try to ask, in the best way I can think, "Do you know what you're missing." There's a table spread for you, laden with "a thousand sacred sweets," a fabulous feast with bread that satisfies forever and water that springs up from within. And there is joy, and peace, and assurance. Are you sure you can't cut a hole someplace in that busy schedule and make time for such a wonderful party? The Westminster catechism asks, "What is your sole purpose in life?" Answer, "To love God and to enjoy him forever." When all is said and done, if we are people of true faith, we don't fear God. We enjoy him.
Some refuse an invitation to the party, not for busyness, but because, honestly, they are more comfortable with religion as a side-issue in their lives. Faith needs to know its place. Prompted by Sigmund Freud, we like to believe that the Victorians were repressived and we moderns aren't. (Meaning they couldn't talk about sex, and we can.) But the truth is that modern society is frighteningly repressive in some areas. We can't talk about the meaning of life, and we certainly can't talk about death - a closely related subject. So we become shallower and shallower. (I give you television as an example. The problem with television is not violence, it's stupidity.) In this ridiculous, topsy-turvy world where we can't talk about primary things, secondary things become primary, making fools of us. George Buttrick said that people today "give their attention to the scaffolding and not to the building." We have even developed conventions which instruct us not to talk about what's important to us, God, in public, not to mention him in school or in the office. We say it's because we might offend someone of another faith (or of no faith), but I think it's because we don't like God out front like that. Keep your faith to yourself and keep God in church. We'll develop a secular religion we can use when we're together, a religion about patriotism, and friendship, and loving trees. (And, by the way, in this secular religion, I'll tell you what to believe, and what to live for and what to die for.)
Some don't come to the party because they have real issues with the Jesus faith, they disagree with Jesus but won't say so. They don't believe it's a good idea to turn the other cheek, or to forgive others and take them in again after they have sinned. The older brother wouldn't come to the party his father threw for his prodigal brother - he stood outside the tent and stamped his feet. He simply did not agree that God's love and grace should extend to someone like that. "What about me," he said. When do I get a party? It is anyone's prerogative to think that way. We should encourage people to say such things, because it makes the issues sharper. And, when examined, Jesus' way is so much the better!

But what about that fellow at the end of the story who came to the party, and wasn't dressed right, and the King (God) threw him out? That's a warning to us. It says you can accept the invitation to God's party, and come, but it's not enough just to show up. It's really quite a beautiful and moving picture: by no stretch of the imagination did we ever deserve an invitation to such a party, but by the King's kindness (by God's grace) we are invited, and we get in free, but we can't stop there. I know Christians who spend their whole life waving their invitation to the party in people's faces - look, I'm saved, I'm saved. But to be invited is not enough. I know Christians who come to the party for religious thrills. But there's more to it than that. This story says plainly that once we're in there is a certain way we must be, or become. We have to wear the robe of righteousness. We come in as sinners, and never really get over that, but more is required. We must be sincere in our faith, and we must put our trust in divine grace. Most of us have received an invitation. That's why we're here. Now we have to assess our faith in regard to how we live. Paul wrote to the new Christians at Corinth: "If you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall." We don't want the King to come over to our table, look at us, and ask, "Friend, how did you get in here?" Many are invited, but only a few make it.