Did you all hear about the preacher who was asked to attend the 5th and 6th grade Sunday School class to talk about weddings?

He started off by asking if any of the young people knew what Jesus had to say about weddings. You could tell they were all wracking their brains but couldn’t think of anything.

Until, finally, one little boy raised his hand and said: “Is that when Jesus said: Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”? (Honey, I knew exactly what I was getting into!). 

Weddings are lots and lots of fun.  Receptions can be hectic though. How many to plan for?  How much food to have the caterer get?  Etc… It was apparently no different for the King in our text.

The first thing we need to remember is that our scripture this morning is a “parable” – not to be taken at face value, but intended to be a story to illustrate a point that Jesus wanted to make.

Overall this is a parable of grace. Jesus begins by telling us that the kingdom of heaven is like a king (God) who prepares a fabulous wedding banquet for his son (Jesus).

That’s grace for you: God has prepared everything. We don’t have to roll up our sleeves to peel the potatoes or save up enough money to afford such a four-star gourmet banquet. No, it’s all been done for us by God himself. All we have to do is show up hungry!

But, for the King of our story, this matter of “showing up” is just the problem: no one does. As a matter of fact, they outright refuse his invitation.

The King, probably more than a little put out, once again tries to lure those on his “preferred” guest list to the celebration. He sends out servants to describe all the delectable goodies of the feast and to let his friends and associates know that he has spared no expense and they would be missing the party of the century.

But this time they all were ready with their excuses and again his invitation was rejected.

Don’t you just hate excuses?  Finding the right excuse is not always an easy thing to do. Trying to explain why we are not able to attend a certain party or a way to absent ourselves from an obligation takes forethought and clear thinking.

And clear thinking is something that a number of parents in Albuquerque, New Mexico lacked when they wrote excuse notes for their kids. Believe it or not, these are REAL!

“Dear School: Please excuse John from being absent on Jan. 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, and also 33.”

“Please excuse Sara for being absent. She was sick and I had her shot.”

“Sally won’t be in school a week from Friday. We have to attend her funeral.”

And my personal favorite: “Please excuse Jennifer for missing school yesterday. We forgot to get the Sunday paper off the porch, and when we found it Monday, we thought it was Sunday.”

At least the King’s friends excuses were a little more legit.

“Sorry, gotta get back to work! Duty calls. My clients need attention. My farm needs work, plowing needs done.”

Good things, not bad, distracted them.  Their problem was not drinking or infidelity, but the routine of daily life.  We are no different. Temptation often comes clothed in wholesome attire. 

We have to work -- run errands -- take care of the kids -- clean the house -- cook and wash dishes -- pay bills -- mow the lawn.  Where can we find room for God? 

Perhaps we can salvage a few minutes for God at the end of the day.  Perhaps we should pencil him in on our “to-do” list.  Or perhaps we will wait for the time when we have plenty of time -- a time that is never likely to come. 

The truth is, we make time for those things that we count as important.  And God wants to be at the top of that list

Well, the king can’t believe it. But instead of pouting, he decides not to let good food go to waste and so once again he sends out his servants.

This time they go out into the streets and gather a bunch of nobodies, commoners, town-folk, plain Janes and regular Joes, and so the wedding hall is filled.

The blind, the lame, the beggars, the merchants, the widows, the orphans, the abused, the abusers, the sickly, the strong, the poor, the religious, the righteous, farmers, tax collectors, fishermen, homemakers and home wreckers, the good and the bad - all come and apparently all have a merry time of it.

It is like heaven in there. Treats and sweets, fruit and meats, golden goblets and marble floors. There’s fine food aplenty, with overflowing wine to wash it down. It is an extravagant scene, which also tells you something about God’s grace. God does not scrimp!

Remember when Jesus created wine at the wedding in Cana? The guests at that wedding had already had a few, and yet to save the host a social embarrassment of running out, Jesus creates not just the finest vintage ever but 150 gallons of it!

The host was maybe hoping for a case or two and Jesus creates a whole winery! There seems to be a certain amount of “waste” in it all.

Why squander good wine on people whose palates have already been sullied by cheaper stuff? Why present gourmet delights to street people who maybe could not even begin to appreciate the cost and work involved in creating such a feast?

But that seems to be God’s way: he squanders his goodness freely on each of us.  He loves us that much!

Now … if it were up to me, I’d draw a thick black line underneath Matthew 22:10 and just end this parable right there. That’s where we are right now. 

If I were allowed to edit the sacred text, I’d grab my little bottle of White-Out and paint over verses 11-14.

Because up to that point this had been a fairly nice parable of grace. Had the story concluded with verse 10, we’d be left with the happy portrait of a succulent feast being punctuated by the chatter of the guests and the clank of flatware against china. That’s not how it ends, however.

Instead Matthew leaves us with the bitter image of bouncers tossing someone out on his ear. We’re left to hear not the clank, clatter, and chatter of a fun dinner party but the sound of wailing and gnashing of teeth.

I’ll be honest, at first look, this is a very confusing part of the parable. The Party is going on. The King is pleased that the place is packed. And then all of a sudden he notices one guy who apparently looks like he’s worn a clown suit to a black tie affair. The King walks over to this guy and says, “Hey, Buddy! Where’s your tuxedo? How did you get in here, anyway?”

The poor guy is speechless, he can’t even think of a poor excuse before he is bound hand and foot and thrown into the outer darkness.

What is that supposed to mean? Is Jesus being cruel? Is God being deceitful? Was God making an open invitation only to revoke it at the last minute? What’s the deal?

Well, I’ve heard people (not from this church, of course) try and use this passage as the reason they wear their ties and formal dresses to Church. They’ve quoted this passage to prove to youth that they aren’t supposed to wear jeans or shorts to church. But they’re missing the point. This part of our passage has nothing to do with the physical garments of life.

This has everything to do with the inner garment, the garment of forgiveness and grace, the garment we are clothed in at our baptism.

Let me explain. Accepting an invitation means accepting the terms of the invitation. In the case of this parable it was dressing in appropriate wedding attire.

William Barclay suggests that most of the hosts provided this attire. All the guests had to do was put it on. In accepting this invitation, this guy figured that what he had on was good enough, to heck with what the host, the King, wanted or provided for the occasion.

That’s what got him in trouble. And, so often, isn’t that the case with us?

In her novel A Thousand Acres Jane Smiley shows readers a highly dysfunctional family which nevertheless attended church each Sunday.

Yet this is how the novel’s narrator sums up their religious practice: “We came to church to pay our respects, not to give thanks.”

When faith becomes a compartment of life instead of life’s vibrant center, when you’re just stopping off to put in your time or pay your respects, squeezing God in between everything else that you clearly value much more highly, then you reveal yourself as an ill-clad impostor.

You haven’t put on a festive wedding garment, you’re still refusing to wear that funny party hat because you fail to realize that the kingdom of God is a high and holy and hilarious feast thrown by a king who has prepared the best of everything.

And then, with only yourself to blame, you get left out of the party.  Don’t let that happen.

So, ultimately, what do we learn from this parable?  May I offer three things?

First, all people have been invited to the table. God, the true king of heaven, invites us -- the good and the bad and the in-between -- to his heavenly affair.

We are all called, all invited and all urged to ready ourselves for the heavenly banquet.  It doesn’t make any difference where we may have been, only where we are going.  Of course, it does require us to accept the invitation.  And not only accept it, but then to attend the banquet as well. 

We need to be careful where we place our priorities.  Those who declined the invitation had pretty valid excuses.  It is just their priorities that seemingly were out of line. 

What comes first in your life?  Where does God stand in your life?  

Second, there is a dress code. The ticket is free, but we better know what to wear. This means donning the garments of love, compassion, kindness, humility, patience, forgiveness, and grace, because if we expect to attend this affair with the rags we have in our closets of self-importance, self-righteousness, self-conceit, we’ll get bounced out of the event on our cans.

And finally, the church is not a club with a closed membership. Too often, we take our model of what a church is from the culture around us. We think of the church as we would the YMCA. We join, pay our dues, and in return we expect a fresh towel, clean bathrooms, a hair dryer and scented soaps to be at our disposal. Such inwardness, such a view of the church leads to a closed church, not at all the kingdom model Jesus talks about.

The kingdom model is outward, inclusive, welcoming, beckoning, inviting and open. It is about service, not about being served.

I said earlier that I wished we could stop with the happy-ending version of this story that concludes with verse ten. But really, we need to pay attention to the entire parable.

We need to hear that there is a happy ending in the kingdom of God--there really will be a day when the laughter and chatter of a banquet will be the last word.

But we have to also be prepared. The man tossed out on his ear is said to have been speechless when the king asked him why he wasn’t dressed for the party.

Indeed, there is finally no explanation for knowing enough about the goodness of God to try to sit at the table, without being serious enough to serve this God every day. There are no words in heaven or on earth to explain that.

Then again, we who do understand, find ourselves sputtering to express our shock at having been invited. There are not enough words in heaven or on earth to give voice to that happy reality.

But you’ve got to start somewhere, and so as in this service of music and praise this morning, so every day of our lives we heed the apostle Paul’s advice to “Rejoice in the Lord always--I will say it again: Rejoice!”