Sermon from October 15, 2023 + Pr. Craig Mueller + Lectionary 28
Do not worry. That’s Paul’s advice today.
Oh, if it were that simple. Many are on anti-anxiety medication. We worry about the future. We worry about the effects of climate change. We worry about dysfunction in the nation’s capital. And especially after this week, we worry about violence in the world, especially the Middle East.
We can handle a certain amount of stress or grief or anxiety, but when too many things converge, it can put us over the top. The events in the world and in our country feel that way. We sense that things are not going to end well. No wonder we worry.
The news from Israel and Palestine this past week is devastating, beyond words. It is particularly poignant since we returned from the Holy Land a month ago, nearly to the day. The region has been engulfed in conflict for decades, but the violence this week has taken it to a whole new level. And in many ways, it involves the entire world. As one commentator put it, it seems hopeless. Another person interviewed called it a nightmare.
The prophet Isaiah writes about a shroud cast over the peoples, a sheet spread over the nations—a shroud of death and mourning. Imagine the burial shrouds placed over the three thousand people killed this past week. Muslims, Jews, Christians. Palestinians and Israelis. More than the number killed on September 11. A humanitarian crisis with a million displaced in Gaza. Ground war imminent. It is staggering. Hard to even take in the horror, the panic, the terror, the fear, the unbearable loss.
As I mentioned just two weeks ago, our recent trip strikingly revealed the years of abuse the Palestinians have faced and our need to stand firm in our relationship with them, especially those in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Jordan and the Holy Land. Our presiding bishop courageously adds, “The power exerted against all Palestinian people — through the occupation, the expansion of settlements and the escalating violence — must be called out as a root cause of what we are witnessing.”
Yet, we also condemn the brutal acts of Hamas and grieve with the Jewish community around the world. As one rabbi said, the conflict is not between the Palestinian and Israeli people, but between those who believe that violence is the only option, and those who would seek other means on a path toward peace and reconciliation. It is so important to distinguish between the violent acts of Hamas and the Israeli government, and the civilians suffering on both sides.
There is much to lament. The patriarchs and heads of religion in Jerusalem made a statement that included: “We unequivocally condemn any acts that target civilians, regardless of their nationality, ethnicity, or faith. We implore political leaders and authorities to engage in sincere dialogue, seeking lasting solutions that promote justice, peace, and reconciliation for the people of this land, who have endured the burdens of conflict for far too long.”
It is eerie that our gospel today is filled with violence, an ugly parable as one scholar calls it. One that has been often used to promote anti-Jewish sentiment. The most traditional interpretation is this: the king in the parable is God. The son/bridegroom is Jesus. The wedding feast is the great Messianic banquet at the end of time. The rejected and/or murdered slaves are the Old Testament prophets. The A-list guests who turn down the invitation to the wedding feast are the Israelites, God’s chosen ones. And the guests who fill the hall at the last minute, are us, the Gentiles!
But if God is the king, this God is monstrous, to quote one writer. This king-figure comes across as “petty, vengeful, hotheaded and thin-skinned.” This king “burns an entire city to the ground,” “forces people to celebrate his son’s marriage while his armies wreak destruction right outside.” And then casts the guest not wearing the right clothing into outer darkness. Surely, there is a better interpretation for our time.1 Like dreams, symbols, and myths, parables can have many interpretations.
As I read this week, what if the king, represents tyrannical, evil rulers then and now? And the one forced out—for not wearing the correct marriage robe—is the God-figure. The vulnerable one, the Christ—thrust into the outer darkness of death for our sake?2
Amid the worries we carry this day, today’s readings are also filled with hopeful and sumptuous images. Yes, there is a shroud of death cast over the nations and peoples. But we are given a glorious vision to sustain us when we are without hope. When we don’t see how things can end well.
In Isaiah’s vision, God destroys the shroud of death. Removes the sheet over all nations. Crushes death and violence and evil. Dries the tears of those who mourn. And takes away the disgrace of those who have lost their dignity.
And then, on the mountain of the Lord, God hosts a feast for all people. All nations. We call to mind Psalm 23: God preparing a table in the presence of our enemies. And the menu is five-star. The best, aged wine possible. The richest and most satisfying food we can imagine.
Even in our troubling parable, the marriage feast is the beautiful image from throughout scripture. God, the one who throws a feast, both now and at the end of time. On this day, and at each eucharist we imagine, we celebrate, we take into our bodies this meal that strengthens us when we can’t go on. This banquet that unites us with the people of God through time and space. This holy meal that is the sign of God’s victory over death and evil. This sacrament that is the pledge of God’s faithfulness, whatever life may bring.
I’m not sure if this feast will take away our worries, once and for all. But we do come together to let our requests be known to God, as Paul urges. We assemble to seek the peace that passes all understanding. We gather, quoting Paul again, to fill our minds and hearts with things that are true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, and commendable. Standing with those in need, those most vulnerable, whether in this community. In our city. Or in war-torn places around the world.
This is the feast. The invitation is for you this day. And for all longing for good news. Come to the banquet, the feast of the universe. Amid your deepest worries, come and celebrate God’s dream of world where death and evil are destroyed. May this vision sustain us with hope in all that is to come.
1Debie Thomas, https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2777-the-god-who-isn-t
2A proposal by Thomas in the above essay.