October 9, 2005

The Robe of Community

By Susie Bjork

There will be "weeping and gnashing of teeth." The gospel writer of Matthew does not shy away from harsh, judgmental language!

This statement stands in sharp contrast to Isaiah's vision of the tears of all faces being wiped away. This statement stands in sharp contrast to the bountiful banquet which the first half of Jesus' parable describes.

Why might this be?

In order to gain a clearer picture of what this parable might have to say to us to today, let us journey back in time for a moment into the early Christian communities of 1st century Palestine. Matthew's telling of Jesus' parable diverges from the version found in Luke in a few ways. The three most deeply troubling and violent scenes in this story are only found in Matthew's gospel:

1) Some of the slaves are killed by those invited to the banquet.

2) The king becomes enraged at the refusal of his invitation and consequently destroys the city of the invited ones.

3) The man, who walks in off of the streets without proper wedding attire, is thrown out of the party by the king into the outer darkness where there will be "weeping and gnashing of teeth."

Matthew's gospel tends to take an approach to some of Jesus' parables that is very otherworldly in focus. Many scholars have noted that these three inclusions in Matthew point to the gospel writer's concern about judgment and the prospects of heaven and hell - otherworldly concerns.

These concerns are understandable considering that the early Christian community was living under the oppressive confines of the Roman Empire.

It is understandable that the elite of society at that time (the invited ones) are turned on their heads by the king when they refuse his invitation to the banquet. By including these seemingly brash reactions of the king, this telling of the parable may be striving to highlight the necessity of both the invitation to the banquet and of the response of those invited.

Both the invitation and the response....

It may seem ridiculous to us that someone off of the street would be expected to wear a wedding robe to the banquet. But in Matthew's characteristic allegorical fashion, this probably means something else. Perhaps the necessity for new clothes highlights the willingness of the one who comes to the banquet to shed old ways and live in a new way. Perhaps this new robe is the "Robe of Community," which requires the wearer to shed the "Clothes of Empire."

This new "way of being" at the Banquet is very different from the "way of being" in the Roman Empire.

Perhaps the very possibility of the existence of the banquet relies not only on the host's invitation, but also on the willing participation of those who attend.

Both the invitation and the response...

Those who were initially invited were not ready, they were too busy with work, with tending their land; they were too busy maintaining the status quo.

The early Christian communities were very concerned with living in a new way, especially a new way that went beyond the confines of the Roman Empire. They were concerned with shaping their communities in response to this puzzling figure of Jesus, and all that he said, and all that he taught, and the mysterious legacy that he left behind.

Imagine for a moment what this "new way of being" might look like. Isaiah imagined it as a feast on a mountain. Jesus drew upon that imagery and imagined it as a great banquet.

Does this metaphor make sense to us today?

Let us think for a moment about the implications of this vision of the banquet for our lives, in terms of our world, here and now. I'd like us to imagine for a moment the possibility of the kingdom of heaven, the realm of God, as something we can glimpse, something we can and do experience right here, right now, in this life.

Imagine for a moment a world where all are invited to a great banquet as equals, a banquet where all are fed, where all are clothed, where all have clean water to drink and adequate living conditions; a banquet where all have access to education, healthcare, and a decent job. A banquet, where rather than fight over resources from a distance, people sit down at a table together and share the resources which already abound.

Imagine a banquet where God's mercy and grace pervades our relationships with our fellow human beings and even when life gets hard, even when tragedy strikes, there are always people there to help us through it. It seems a far cry from much of the world we see on a daily basis.

Rather than relationships based on mutual support, many of our relationships are fraught with power struggles and plagued by economic disparity. Often times we witness the powerful close the banquet hall door on the less powerful. Often humanity is not willing to shed the "Clothes of Empire," and don the "Robe of Community."

A classmate of mine recently shared a heart wrenching story about his experiences this past summer working with a humanitarian aid organization at the Arizona-Mexico border called "No More Deaths." Since 1998, more than 2,200 people have lost their lives trying to cross the desert from Mexico into the U.S. Their motivations are largely economic. There are jobs in the US to fill and there are people in Mexico who want to fill them. The standing immigration laws in the US prevent the vast majority of these workers from entering the US legally. Thus, many of them take the life-threatening risk of crossing the desert and entering the states illegally.

What banquet hall doors do the powerful close on the less powerful?

My classmate told us of a man, Cesario, who flagged down one of the aid trucks which carry water, food, and first aid supplies to those in the desert. Cesario was looking for his daughter who had been missing for weeks. She and her son had attempted to cross into the US and, upon making it into Arizona, she had collapsed of heat exhaustion. Her son went for help, but could not find his way back to where he left his mother. So, Cesario's search began.

By enlisting the help of the aid workers he came across in the desert and by taking photos of various landmarks and terrain back to his grandson in Mexico to see if his grandson recognized anything, Cesario searched diligently...

It turned out that Cesario's daughter died there in the hot, Arizona desert.

Remarkably enough, despite the vast area in which to search, with the help of Cesario's grandson's recognition of a photograph of a water trough near where he left his mother, the impromptu search party that Cesario rounded up found what remained of her body (and along the way, the bodies of three other people). It is a small grace among immense tragedy that Cesario was able to bury her body and have a memorial service for her out in the desert.

Cesario's story serves as a sobering reminder of the lack of "banquet hospitality" which pervades our world.

I think Cesario and his family know something about being excluded from the banquet. And for them the outer darkness, the weeping, the exclusion is NOT something that results from their unwillingness to be in relationship in a "new way," but from the door being shut in their face by the powerful who are not willing to don the robe of community themselves.

The aid workers, however... who searched diligently with Cesario... took an opportunity to do what they could to help and to be in relationship in a new way, to don the robe of community... there, in the desert, under dire circumstances, with a man who was experiencing an unimaginable nightmare. The search didn't end the way they'd hoped it would... sometimes it doesn't... but they did what they could when they had the invitation, when one of their neighbors was in need.

How do we then throw open the doors that have been closed for so long? How do we put on the robe of community and discard the clothes of empire?

I don't pretend to have an easy answer to those questions.

But, I do think it has something to do with hope.

I do think the answer has something to do with our willingness to do something, however small, however seemingly insignificant, or however seemingly impossible to better our relationships with those around us... whether they are our family, our friends, or our brothers and sisters across the globe.

Somehow we have to hope that the seeds of community we plant now will come to flower in the future.

Somehow we have to hope that we, the global we, can put on the robe of community and throw open the door to the banquet hall when we are given opportunities to do so. I think that this community knows something about hope. I think that this community knows something about the vision of a great banquet to which all are invited.

Tonight is the EDFK fundraiser.

Tonight is one opportunity to put a wedge in that door. Tonight is one opportunity to strive to be in relationship with those around our globe who do not have the privilege of access to the same resources we have. Tonight is one opportunity to don the robe of community.

At the retreat last weekend we talked a lot about connecting with one another, being in community with one another...

I think the kingdom of God, the great banquet, is all about connections, it's all about community. For God is visible in our connections with each other, God is in our relationships, God is in Community.

God calls us out of isolation and into communion. God issues a call to fellowship and sustenance at the table. Let us heed God's call to the Banquet. Let us heed God's call to Community.

Amen.