The Parable of the Banquet (and one under-dressed guest)

January 12, 2024

A short sermon for Morning Prayer on Matthew 22:1-14

Most mornings at Wycliffe we have Morning Prayer (you can see the form it usually takes here). In it there is opportunity to share a short message. During term time, the students lead and preach in chapel, but in the week before term begins (0th week in Oxford lingo), the tutors lead chapel and preach. On Thursday this week, I was up and chose the reading from Matthew 22:1-14.

 

Why did I choose it?


Because some people have a great deal of difficulty with this passage and has been used to legitimate religious abuse. It can be used to browbeat people into right behaviour (because otherwise Jesus will judge you) and becomes a burden that is onerous and unbearable. But recently, I also heard a reading of the passage recently that tried to offer an antedote to this misreading by saying the man who was inappropriately dressed at the wedding (and thus thrown out into the outer darkness) was actually Jesus.

 

There are manifold problems with this reading as well!. The parable in question is clearly a messianic banquet. The king is throwing a wedding feast for his son. There are close parallels to the previous parable of the vineyard. It’s builds on the critique and rejection of Jewish religious leaders in that parable by saying the “anyone and everyone” who were welcomed into the banquet likewise have a responsibility to be faithful with what God has given them.


So I chose this parable to preach on. If I’d had more time I would have worked this into the sermon. As it was, it was just in mind in my prayers and preparation.


***

 

It is funny how with passages and parables in the Bible, we can read them, hear them preached, maybe do a Bible study or two on them and still find that we’re left remembering a story that is a bit different from the ones we find in the text.

 

Take this morning’s parable in Matthew 22, which is also found in Luke 14. It’s easy to hold onto the memory of the banquet thrown by a king, to which the invited guests refuse attendance for different reasons. We remember the king’s generous and gracious response to send his servants out again to bring in the least of these. The abandoned, the forgotten, the outcast. The unworthy.

 

But today’s lectionary invites us to reflect on Matthew’s version, which has a harder edge. Not only do the guests rebuff the invitation, but they mock the great sacrifice and cost the king has gone to preparing a feast in expectance of their attendance. They depart and go off about their business and those that don’t take to mistreatment, abuse and murder. And not only do the guests respond with greater acrimony than in Luke, but the king responds with a lot more than just anger. He sends his troops to destroy the guests-turned-murderers and burns down their city. 


It’s only then that the king invites others—not just the down-trodden but in Matthew it’s anyone: the good, the bad and the ugly. Any and all are invited.


And then we discover the unique epilogue to this story in Matthew—still with this tougher message. One guest has shown up lacking the custom wedding robes and he’s called out by the king. And the man is taken, bound and cast out into outer darkness. 

 

"The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy." The king says of the guests who rejected his invitation and killed his servants.


And the one that came insufficiently dressed showed himself unworthy too.

 

It’s not the version of story that is easy to sit with. Especially first thing in the morning of a cold January! But it is a story we are to heed. As Ofula challenged us yesterday, what can be given can indeed be taken away and like yesterday’s lack of fruit—today’s lack of proper clothing—is just cause.

 

But the clothing we are to wear is not an expensively tailored suit for a wedding today or a new and glamorous dress and matching shoes. It is the simple clean, linen garment we have at home. It is not out of reach or an impossible ask on our budget. It is not a heavy burden to bear—it is a work tailored just for us.

 

Make no mistakes, it is work, yes. Reneging on this work comes with a high cost. There is diligence and effort and focus required. But it is a work borne of the Spirit. And it is a work worthy of the King.


******

 

 

 


Photo by Mitchell Orr on Unsplash

By Suse McBay March 17, 2026
Are you 100% sure about that? Last December, Stephen and I headed for Prague for a few days. We were looking forward to Christmas markets, mulled wine, and shopping. Because we had booked a really early flight, we decided to stay in an airport hotel the night before. We hadn’t banked on one thing though: how to get from the bus station at Heathrow to the hotel. We could see our destination towering ahead of us as we exited the coach, but there was no reliable way to get there on foot. Much like Houston, navigating the surface roads of Heathrow is much easier for those in a car. So, we asked for directions from one of the airport staff. She pointed us over to two elevators, sat right next to each other. One had a line of at least twenty people. The other one had none. Those at the front of the queue hadn’t even pressed the button. That seemed strange and indicated that perhaps the people in line didn’t know what they were doing—or weren’t used to London airports. But why was one line so long and the other non-existent? The signs above weren’t exactly clear, but here were two lifts side-by-side, surely they went to the same place? Towards the back of the line was a middle-aged man, surrounded by luggage and family, who realised what we were trying to puzzle out. “Nah, you can’t use it. The other lift doesn’t go down. Doesn’t go to the same place,” he told us. We looked at him quizzically. “Are you sure?” we asked. “ One hundred percent , mate. One hundred percent.” The certainty with which he declared his answer was persuasive. He crowed like he was the CEO of the airport. That lift would not go where the other one was going. He repeated himself again. 100%. Only, he was wrong. We risked looking like fools. We walked to the vacant elevator, hit the button, and—lo and behold!—an elevator appeared that went to the exact same location as the other. The middle-aged man surrounded by luggage was 100%... in the wrong. Utterly and completely. *** Words, words, words, but no wisdom I don’t personally know the man who so-confidently revealed his wrongness. I’ve no idea whether his bluster was out of character from his usual self. But in the moment of our encounter, he acted every bit the ‘fool’ we find in Book of Proverbs: "A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing personal opinion." (Proverbs 18:2) There is much wisdom in Proverbs 17:28: Even fools who keep silent are considered wise; when they close their lips, they are deemed intelligent. It seems to me that we live in a world saturated with words, whether written or spoken. There’s an ever-growing number of websites, social media platforms, podcasts, and so on. Even more so now with AI. Yet for all this verbal abundance, there does not seem to be any more wisdom than there used to be. I would argue with AI, there seems to be less (or perhaps it’s simply exposing our foolishness). Part of me wonders about the virtue of writing a blog, when these are so often half-thoughts, explorations, and ideas: am I just adding to the plethora of opinions that exist on the blogosphere? Last year, I was teaching on how to plan and lead funerals with our final year ordinands. I spoke with confidence about what works and what doesn’t. What the role of the cleric is, how to work with the grieving family, how to craft the sermon, what to do afterwards etc. It felt good to be able to give real, lived experience having worked in a church for a decade. But it was only during the Q&A when I realized something. I realized my confidence was borne of a very specific context: I ministered in a large, Episcopal church in Houston, Texas. Not a small parish church, somewhere remote in England. Did the wisdom and experience I bring still have value in the Church of England, where the Church is an established one? Where those who minister do among many people who don’t dare to cross the threshold of a religious building except in such moments of life and death? Now I happen to think it does; but only with some qualification. For what I realized in that moment is that it’s not quite as readily transferable as I’d assumed. Church cultures are different. Expectations are different. How people respond and react to their local vicar is different! What works in one scenario doesn’t necessarily work in another. Consider Proverbs 26:4-5: 4 Do not answer fools according to their folly, or you will be a fool yourself. 5 Answer fools according to their folly, or they will be wise in their own eyes. Proverbs 26 has a seeming contradiction that speaks to the importance of context. In the situation where you’re faced with someone spouting foolishness, what should you do? Speak or not speak? Engage or not engage? The modern equivalent to v.4 might be to say to yourself “not my monkeys, not my circus” and walk away. But what about the times when it is your circus? When they are your monkeys? What about when to walk away is to leave someone blind to their mistakes and doomed to make more? What if responding might feasibly help someone see beyond their own blinkers and make a different choice? Sometimes v.4 might be the path of wisdom. Other times it’s v.5. But it’s not always apparent which is which. Overconfidence is not just dangerous for making us look like fools or giving bad advice. If we stay in our certitude, we miss the heart of the issue revealed in these two verses: we need wisdom. So where do we find it? *** Does ‘wisdom come with age’? I’ve heard it said that ‘wisdom comes with age’. Ironically enough, this line was used when I was in something of a disagreement with someone much older than me. But claiming moral high ground or superior understanding on the basis of some unalterable characteristic that you have but I don’t, is more indicative of pride than wisdom. If age does come with wisdom, there would be no conflict or disagreement within the human species as we age. If age is the sole arbiter, we should collectively do better as the wrinkles and grey hairs multiply. Yet that’s not what happens. Wisdom, sadly, is not inevitable. It can come with age because of one very simple reality: the more time you’ve had on the planet means you’ve had more opportunity to become wise. Now whether or not you’ve taken those opportunities is quite a different thing! *** Wisdom: a gift that needs seeking Proverbs has an interestingly balanced view of wisdom. It is (1) something that requires active seeking, yet also (2) something which only God can give. Proverbs 2:1-4 talks about the need to exert effort in acquisition of wisdom. It’s not something that just lands on our laps: it asks you to be open to learning and sitting with what you receive (v.1), deliberate and intentional in putting your body in a space to grow in it (v.2), and vocal in your search for it (v.3). In other words: humble, open, and hungry. This passage concludes by likening it to searching for silver or hidden treasure (v.4). Think about that for a moment: do you search for wisdom in the same way you seek out growth in income or asset? From a human wisdom point of view, seeking financial gain for our security and future as we age (and our children grow and go off to college etc) makes good sense. But what if we were to seek wisdom with the very same fervour? What if wisdom had the same significance for our spiritual security and future? What if it is important to our growth in the Christian life and readiness for what may come our way? It’s a gift that needs seeking. But Proverbs tells us it is also a gift that is given. Verse 6 reveals “ the LORD gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding .” Our seeking is not the whole picture. Longing for wisdom does not mean we get it. Wisdom is God’s domain not ours. Proverbs 8 illustrates that God’s Wisdom is not something to acquire or harvest. It is not a commodity to be doled out. It is not a consumer good. Wisdom was present when God made the world. Wisdom is a part of God’s self that chooses when to be imparted and when not to be (compare 1:28; 8:17; 9:5, 16) The very fabric of our material world is infused with the mystery of Wisdom. Insight and understanding comes from God and helps us to navigate the complexity of our lives, but this gift is just a glimpse of a much greater reality of the divine Wisdom which exists eternally. This, perhaps, brings us back to where I started. True wisdom is never found in loud proclamations of “one hundred percent!”. Why? Because the one who is wise recognises they have a lot to learn. They know that new information can shift and reframe yesterday’s certainty. Maybe the first step is to stop claiming absolute certainty—to stop the all-or-nothing thinking. Maybe we start with recognising what Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians 13: we only see in part, know in part, understand in part. And from there, we begin actively seeking that gift which only God—from His Wisdom—can give. Wisdom has built her house, she has hewn her seven pillars. 2 She has slaughtered her animals, she has mixed her wine, she has also set her table. 3 She has sent out her servant-girls, she calls from the highest places in the town, 4 "You that are simple, turn in here!" To those without sense she says, 5 "Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. 6 Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight." Proverbs 9:1-6 ****** Photo © Copyright Derek Harper and licensed for reuse under a cc-by-sa/2.0 Creative Commons Licence.
By Suse McBay February 13, 2026
What do we do on days when God seems entirely absent? Some thoughts about where I see that in my life today and, looking back, recognising how much has changed.

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