We all know that Jesus told some pretty powerful stories.
Good Samaritans, prodigal sons, lost sheep, farmers sowing their fields, servants trying to put their talents to good use – they were memorable, insightful, sometimes entertaining stories, populated by interesting characters and situations, yet always worthy of our reflections as we seek to understand the ways of Christ.
But then, we come to some of his other stories – the ones that seem to begin well and clearly, and in which we think that we know who the characters and situations are meant to represent. However, something happens in the story and we begin to start feeling a bit confused as we find ourselves being taken in directions that we did not expect to go. We squirm a bit, perhaps scratch our heads, and wondering what message the story is actually trying to convey.
Today’s suggested reading from Matthew chapter 22 is one of those stories.
The story begins simply enough, as it recounts how an unnamed king sent out invitations to a wedding banquet for his son.
Ah, we think to ourselves, we know what this story is about. God is the king, the king’s son is Jesus, the wedding banquet is life in the kingdom of God, the slaves who were sent were the Hebrew prophets, the people who disregarded the king’s invitation were those who – like the chief priests and Pharisees that Jesus was interacting with – would be harshly judged for choosing not to come to the banquet.
But then things start to get a bit awkward. In verse 7, we read that “the king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city.”
Another invitation was issued, and the slaves now went out and invited anyone and everyone to come to the banquet. Finally, the party started.
But that was not the end of the story. Rather, the king arrived, and noticed that one of the guests was not properly attired. He had come to the banquet without the right garments.
And the consequence was severe. The king ordered that the man be seized, bound, and, as the text states, the king’s servants were ordered to “throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
And we squirm, and scratch our heads, and wonder how any of this could be good news – especially if our initial assumption that God is the king, in the story, is correct.
Was the God that Jesus was revealing really meant to be compared to a king who sends troops to slaughter and burn a whole city if people do not respond appropriately, a king who throws one of his invited guests into a situation of great anguish simply for not wearing the right clothes? No grace, no forgiveness, no mercy.
What kind of king is that?
What kind of God is that?
Or do we need to re-examine our initial assumptions about the identity of the various characters. Who is the king? Who are the king’s slaves? Who murdered the king’s slaves?
And who is this strange, speechless, improperly attired individual who the murderous king orders his attendants to punish, so severely, for refusing to wear the right robes?
It is important for us to remember a bit about its historical context for this passage.
The Gospel of Matthew was compiled into the form that we have it after the destruction of the city of Jerusalem, and of the Temple, that took place in 70 AD – as an imperial response to a revolt that was being led by the Zealots which emerged out of protest against Roman taxation, and with the longstanding Jewish desire to be liberated from Roman control.
And the events of 70 AD did not represent the first attempt, on the part of the Roman authorities, to squash that Jewish revolt. Over the years, the Roman emperor had sent various governors, emissaries and military commanders to try to bring an end to the Zealot’s revolt. Like the king’s slaves in Jesus’ story, many of those imperial servants and officials had been killed or were forced to flee.
But the Roman victory eventually came, in 70 AD, under the direction of Titus, who was the emperor Vespasian’s son.
Under Titus’ command, the Roman troops besieged the city of Jerusalem, eventually breached the walls, destroyed the revolutionaries, brought the surviving people back under Roman control…and burned the city of Jerusalem to the ground.
The parallels with Jesus’ story are undeniable.
Listen again to verse 7 – after the king’s invitations were disregarded, and his servants were killed or forced to flee, “the king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city.”
The original readers of Matthew would not have missed the parallel. A story about a king sending troops to destroy those who had murdered the king’s slaves, and then burning the rebellious city would have reminded them about what had happened in Jerusalem under Titus and the Roman emperor’s troops.
So what happens to this story if the ways of the king, in this story, are not intended to reveal the ways of God, but rather to reflect the ways of imperial, worldly power? Fall in line, get with the program, robe yourself in the ways of this world…or we will come to you, and we will destroy you, and we will and burn your city to the ground…
And if the murderous king’s invitation to the wedding banquet is understood as a call to participate in the practices and traditions of Roman imperial power and citizenship, then how do we understand the second part of the story, about the man who was not willing to wear the correct robes to that murderous king’s feast?
The second part of the story begins in verse 11. Another group of guests had been invited.
And, once the party had begun, the murderous king arrived. But he quickly noticed that one man seemed to stand out in the crowd. The man had not dressed up in a way that would please the king. He was there in his own clothes.
The king asked the man how he had come to be there.
And did you notice how that improperly attired guest chose to respond?
“And he was speechless.”
He was speechless when questioned by the murderous king.
Which is a fascinating, though quickly overlooked detail.
And it is fascinating in light of the placement of this text in the Gospel of Matthew chapter 22. In only a few short chapters – in chapter 27 – we will encounter another speechless man who is being questioned by a person with imperial authority.
In Matthew chapter 27, verse 13, after Jesus was dragged before the Roman governor Pilate, Pilate asked him if he had any response to the various accusations that were being brought against him. And in verse 14, we read, “but [Jesus] gave him no answer, not even to a single charge, so that the governor was greatly amazed.”
In other words, when Jesus was questioned by the emperor’s representative, Jesus was speechless.
And we all know what happened from there. He was bound, he was driven out of the city, he was sent to his death.
Which is an almost exact parallel to the man in today’s story, who chose not to get dressed up in robes to please the murderous king nor answer the king’s questions. The one who would not join in celebrating the murderous king’s festivities was severely punished. “Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’”
And why? Because the murderous king knew that anyone who would not get properly dressed up for the official festivities had to be bound up and thrown out.
Neither the improperly attired character in Jesus’ story, nor even Jesus himself, were the last individuals to be punished for refusing to submit to the authority of those who claimed worldly power. Apostles like Stephen and Peter suffered and died for standing apart; the earliest Christians experienced terrible persecutions – and even martyrdom – for daring to proclaim that Jesus, and not the Roman emperor, was Lord; in every age and in every generation, there are those who have chosen to stand against the demands and threats of the empires and systems of this world.
Even in our own time, there have been those who have chosen to stand apart when the systems in which they themselves tell them how they are supposed to live and act. Dietrich Bonhoeffer stood against the power of the Nazi regime; Martin Luther King Jr. stood against the power of an unjust and racist system; Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu stood against the power of a regime that considered them to be less-than; Archbishop Oscar Romero, Mother Theresa, the nameless thousands who, today, in many parts of the world are standing against systems of oppression, of persecution, of authority in the name of Jesus…there are so many who – like the unnamed character in Jesus’ story — choose to refuse to wrap themselves in the garments of those systems of power and prestige that seek to claim our allegiance in this world.
And we need not leave this dangerous invitation to stand apart simply to some special pantheon of exemplary heroes of faith. Instead, each and every one of us are called to look at our lives, our priorities, our attitudes, our actions.
After all, we live in a culture that loves to pay attention to those who are wrapped in the trappings of wealth, of power, of status, of prestige, of superficial beauty, of privilege. And we spend a lot of time paying attention to those who are clothed in these trappings of the “good life” – as the world sees them.
But if we prefer to clothe ourselves – and to pay attention – to those who are clothed with humility, mercy, meekness, patience, kindness, forgiveness, goodness, holiness, peacefulness rather than with the façades of power and success…well, we are going to stand out.
But the good news is this. To stand apart is actually a promising and hopeful path. Because the life and words of Jesus invite us to catch a vision of a different wedding banquet, a different kingdom in this world, a kingdom that is not ruled over by murderous kings and emperors who seeks out those who oppose them and burn their cities to the ground in the face of resistance to their rule.
Instead, the story of Jesus invites us to find inspiration in the vision of a kingdom that is ruled by a humble king who chose, willingly, to walk into the place of suffering, who did not burn a city down for refusing his invitation, but instead was willing to be driven out of that city, with a cross on his back, submitting himself to death and yet forgiving those who hurt him…and all so that he could draw those who suffer and felt lost back into the true and everlasting banquet of God’s love.
In so doing, he revealed that real power was not found in the imperial festivities of the murderous king, but rather in the power of a death-defying love that would not, and could not, be overcome and undone by the powers of this world.
So let the murderous kings and the tyrannical emperors have their parties, let them try to assert their authority and their power.
There is a guest who is standing at the party, who is not willing to wear the right robes.
And perhaps, that unnamed, improperly robed guest is the One before whom we are called to bow.
Both now and forever.
Amen.
