28th Sunday in ordinary time, Cycle A. Today’s readings: Isaiah 25:6-10a; Philippians 4:12-14, 19-20; Matthew 22:1-14 (shorter version: Matthew 22:1-10)
A few days ago, in his homily during the mass for the opening of the synod, Pope Francis reiterated a central concept of his pontificate: that of a welcoming Church. “The doors of the Church are open to everyone, everyone, everyone!” he insisted.
That same refrain (“tutti, tutti, tutti!”) echoes in today’s gospel. Jesus recounts a parable about a king who gives a wedding feast for his son. When the intended guests stay away he sends servants, practically begging them to join his banquet. They adamantly refuse, even mistreating and killing his servants. Enraged, the king exacts swift retribution, and instead widens his invitation: “The feast is ready, but those who were invited were not worthy to come. Go out, therefore, into the main roads and invite to the feast whomever you find.”
The parallels with salvation history are clear: over the generations, in their corruption and pride, the religious and political leaders of God’s chosen people rejected their Lord and banished, ignored, or killed his prophets. Yet their refusal to fully partake of God’s saving covenant means that his blessings are now offered to all: “tutti, tutti, tutti!”
At last, the banquet hall is full; people from all walks of life have joined the celebration with the king and his household, a clear reference to the Church, the new Israel, accepting into its fold people from all strata of society, including the gentiles.
This is where the parable takes a rather odd turn. For now, as the king moves among his guests, he notices one who is not wearing the wedding garment. When questioned, this man falls silent and is swiftly evicted from the feast. Yet, our innate sense of fairness objects, if he was brought in from the streets, how can he be expected to have a wedding garment on hand?
A life in conformity with God’s Covenant is not found in some half-hearted observance of rules, or in doggedly clinging to a set of beliefs, but in joyfully embracing Christ himself
In my childhood, Dun Anġ Camilleri, the beloved Mosta priest who dedicated his life to fostering the faith of children and youths, offered a simple solution to this conundrum: in ancient wedding feasts – he told us – the guests would be provided with a festive garment as they entered the hall. The problem with this wretched guest, therefore, was not poverty but apathy: he had not even bothered to make a minimal effort to be presentable for his host, to respond with gratitude to the king’s generosity.
I don’t know with what authority Dun Anġ could speak about ancient wedding customs, but his explanation is substantially correct, at least on the theological level. It is God himself, through his Church, who provides us with the festive garment. Symbolically, in the baptismal rite, the new Christian is clothed with a white garment as the outward sign of their Christian dignity, and enjoined to bring that dignity unstained into the everlasting life of heaven.
Today’s liturgy, therefore, conveys a dual calling: to joy and to responsibility. On the one hand, we should rejoice at being among those invited to the Son’s wedding feast. Yet at the same time, if we do freely accept that invitation, we are also called to say yes to the dress: to don the wedding garment and live a life in conformity with God’s Covenant.
This life is not found in some half-hearted observance of rules, or in doggedly clinging to a set of beliefs, but in joyfully embracing Christ himself: “He himself is our entrance ticket, our required wedding garment. When we die and show up at the gates of heaven and God asks us why he should let us in, our answer should not begin with the word ‘I’ but with the word ‘Jesus.’” (Peter Kreeft; Food for the Soul)
bgatt@maltachurchtribunals.org