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 (0^th 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

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A Thought About Resurrection

By Suse McBay • July 28, 2026

Let me start by asking a question: if someone came up to you and asked what's the benefit or blessing of being a Christian, what would you include in your answer? There's the things we might know to say from Sunday School: Jesus loves me, died for me, so I can be forgiven and free. Or something like that. Would it naturally come to your lips to say this: The gift of my faith is that no matter how hard life gets, no matter the sorrow or suffering that comes my way, I am reassured and strengthened by the confidence that God does not ignore the unjust lives or deaths of those who stick close to Him? *** This summer I’m taking some time to look at Daniel 11-12 and Book 4 of the Jewish poetic writings I research, the Sibylline Oracles . This post is an observation and an out-loud thought from some of my reading. Again and again, both in Daniel, the Sibyllines, an array of other Jewish literature, and the gospels (as well as elsewhere in the NT—e.g. Mark 8:38-9:1, 10:29-31, John 11:25, 1 Cor 15:16-19, 2 Corinthians 4), resurrection and the post-mortem life appears as an encouragement and response to the problem of human suffering. Not a rationale or justification. It’s not an answer to the question of ‘why does God allow suffering’ in any overt sense. But an end to the story of God’s peoples that shapes how the present might be lived. When I was very young, I thought resurrection was more-or-less a get of jail free card for the crucifixion. Jesus died on a cross to deal with sin and death. But if he isn't raised it's all pointless: so God has to raise him. Resurrection as an after thought, if you will. But resurrection isn't an epilogue. It's the victory. Without it the whole story is pointless. It's a real, substantial, material hope. *** Life is hard work. Life does not always go our way. Even when it does, that way isn't usually what we really wanted anyway! There's the normal hard stuff of life: work, family, friendships, health and so on. Then there's the hard stuff of following God. We are given so much goodness in the gospel: a relationship with God for starters! But also forgiveness, healing, reconciled relationships, a change and liberation of priorities, freedom and new life. All such wonderful and good things. Yet they are all a foretaste. Reconciliation doesn't always happen. We might have an interior freedom but experience hardship after hardship externally. I've been reading the diaries of Etty Hillesum who expereinced just that. She was a young Jewish woman in the 1940s. She experienced such a bliss and joy because of her faith and spirituality that found contentment even in life in a concentration camp. Yet her life ended at the tender age of 29. So much life left to live, so much potential unrealised. *** Resurrection is a reminder and encouragement that our real hope and the true fulfilment of the gospel isn't in the here and now (it begins now, but as a foretaste of what's to come). We aren't to expect ' everything will go my way ' in this life or that I should experience the perennial blessing of God in my earthly life and relationships. Following God will not be easy. The things He calls us to do may not succeed. The people we love may not love us back. The person we pray for may never come to faith. The change we want to see manifest in the world around us may not happen in this life. But resurrection says this: God has not forgotten. God sees it all. God will set right. Unjust deaths will be dealt with. Unfair hardship will be set straight. This life is not all there is. There is so much more to come, that all of this--even the heart-breaking stuff—will pale in significance in comparison. Yes, that doesn't stop it hurting in the present moment. It doesn't stop grief or stem the tide of darkness today. But it allows us to let go. Surrender. Trust. None of this has to be fixed now. We do what we can. But the outcome of it all is not one realised in this life, but the next. So take courage. There is more to come. ******

A Scottish Scandal & the Gift of Healthy Shame

By Suse McBay • June 24, 2026

Peter Murrell, a Scottish political worker and now ex-husband of Nicola Sturgeon (former SNP party leader), was this week sentenced to 5 years in prison for embezzlement. Over the years he had used party money to buy all manner of things. It began with a Play Station 3 but escalated, to buying silver wine coaster, a Jaguar, and a motor home (the list goes on and on). Now embezzlement is not new. Nor is using political office for personal gain. But what struck me were the comments from the lawyer following the sentencing: “ The accused is now an individual overwhelmed by feelings of embarrassment and shame .” Shame. We don’t know if it’s true or not, but I wonder how you respond to hearing such contrition? Responses can range from the judgemental (“ Good! He deserves it ”) to the overly sympathetic (“ Perhaps he’s learned his lesson ”). But regardless of where we individually fall on the sympathy scale, it was an interesting example of what I’ve been thinking about recently: healthy shame . Mr Murrell has undeniably done something wrong and has betrayed the office given to him. He’s estranged from his wife. He’s headed to prison. He was there to represent the people, but instead, he has preyed on the sheep (Ezek. 34:2 has things to say about this). That uncomfortable feeling of recognising where we have transgressed our limits and have become hoodwinked by our own hubris and entitlement. His inadequacies have been publicly exposed. His dirty laundry is out in public. We may be more accustomed to scandal given the internet age, so we may be desensitised to it, but I bet Peter Murrell is not. When it happens to you, it’s painful. It’s uncomfortable. It’s exposing. I’m no psychologist, so I’d recommend John Bradshaw’s book on Healing the Shame That Binds You , if you want to think more about it. Dan Allender and Tremper Longman have a good Christian reflection on different emotions in Cry of the Soul. But I’ve been noticing where healthy shame appears in Scripture. Shame crops up again and again and again. I’m still in the early stages of thinking about where it appears and why, but one clear example of where it occurs is in scenes of divine judgement, both those in the present and those yet to come. God’s People Exposed (1) Daniel 12:1-4 talks about how Jewish believers in the 2 nd century BCE would be raised. The wise and understanding ones who didn’t comply with the political schemes of Antiochus IV would be raised to shine like stars. The others? Those who had aligned themselves with the emperor and in the process forsaken their covenant loyalty to God? They would be faced with everlasting shame (and contempt). (2) Jeremiah 2 has strong words for God’s people of Israel who have got so wrapped up in themselves they have stopped seeking where God is at work and instead are playing with other idols under the illusion of thinking they’re faithful because they keep the Law. They even say they don’t run after false gods (v.23). They’ve tried to seek out gain from the political powers (v.18) rather than humbly submit themselves to God (v.20). The result? They will be put to shame by Egypt (v.36). In an eerily similar statement to the news from Scotland: “As a thief is shamed when caught, So the house of Israel shall be shamed: They, their kings, their officials, Their priests, and their prophets.” (Jer 2:26) And the same is true in the New Testament. Mark 8:38 says this: "Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels." I suspect these are words for people who don’t listen to Jesus’ words in the preceding lines: the message that to follow Jesus is to take up your cross, deny yourself. Surrender your own wants and desires. Those who, like Peter, wanted to avoid death. Avoid suffering. Avoid hardship. Those who wanted a Messiah that came on a horse not a donkey. One who wore a crown of gold, not one of thorns. ** So what a bout us? How do we avoid that fate? Well, like a bill that if you don’t pay now you’ll be paying a lot more later, we need to start facing our inner shame today. Both the healthy shame and the shame we’ve been given that doesn’t belong to us. We might take some time to pray, be still, listen. See what comes up when we think about our uncomfortable feelings that usually stay in the shadows. The great gift of shame is that it shows us our limits. Where we’ve crossed the line and harmed ourselves, others, and our relationship with God. Where we’ve tried to be more than human (or acted in fear that we’re less than human). But shame also dies on exposure. Though I’d also add that shame dies on exposure in the presence of a loving other. We find a person or a group where we can start doing the crazy thing and actually revealing our shameful selves to others. Peter Murrell is full of shame, his lawyer says. The question is: what will he do with it? Will he use this public humiliation to face himself as he is? Does he have people around him to listen to him and to help him through it? I hope so. Genuinely. I hope that for all of us. That we would have the courage to allow the One who is Light to bring light into the midst of our shame today. To bring us out of hiding. Shame is a horrible feeling: I’m not a fan. But I do know that on the other side is acceptance, serenity, and a joy that really does make it worth it. It is true freedom—and it’s only in that freedom I can become who God has made me to be. Because whatever I’ve done, however humiliating, the deepest truth of all is that I’m made in the image of God. I am loved. ****** Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash