Joy, Grace, And Living Together
Preaching
The Parables Of Jesus And Their Flip Side
Cycles A, B, and C
Object:
Chirpy was a parakeet. Cleaning the cage one day, the owner was disturbed by the telephone, got the hose of the vacuum cleaner too close and sucked the bird right into the sweeper bag. Quickly she hung up, took off the bag, pulled out the bewildered bird, and stuck it under the water faucet. The bird survived, but now its owner describes it this way: "Chirpy doesn't sing much anymore, she just sits and stares."
Our church has many who don't sing much anymore, if they ever did, but just sit and stare. Today's parable of a wedding reception is for them and us.
Matthew and Luke thought it important enough to record it sometime after Jesus told the story. It was probably first aimed at the religious of Jesus' day who refused his invitation to God's kingdom. He had come to invite them into it and they refused the invitation.
So he told this story to say that like a man who invited many to his son's wedding celebration and no one came, so too, he came with an invitation to the religious to come into God's kingdom and no one came. So, he said, others must be invited.
In the parable as he told it, the father of the groom sent out servants with this inclusive instruction: " 'Go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.' So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, both good and bad, and the wedding hall was filled with guests" (Matthew 22:8, 10).
This ought to be an encouraging parable for us. For it says much about how and who we should invite into God's kingdom. It tells us the invitation is one to joy. That's where Chirpy the parakeet comes in. If you feel you've been through the vacuum cleaner and your baptismal water washed you but did not bring joy; if the practice of your discipleship is rather bland, uninteresting, and of little relevance to real life -- this parable is for you.
If we get nothing else said today, let's say this loud and clear: we are invited into a life of joy. The great preacher George A. Buttrick used to say, "Joy is what we are chosen for and joy is what we have to offer to all who will come. It is a deep sense of joy not dependent on the number of things we get done in a day, for this is not the opposite of unhappiness but the opposite of unbelief."
The invitation was not to a funeral wake, but a wedding feast! Sometimes in our sense of awe and reverence we give out the wrong signal about Christianity -- it looks grim, depressing, and downright dismal, like Chirpy after her vacuum cleaner experience.
I preached in Curran Memorial Church in Sanoyea, Liberia, one dark night. There were no lights in the church, except for the ones the several hundred villagers brought with them. They placed a Coleman gasoline lantern in front of me so the congregation could see me as I spoke. The lantern kept running down and a deacon kept pumping it up during my sermon with the comment, "Preach on."
After the service -- and I had preached for an hour -- the elder of the congregation led us through the town with lanterns, the Kpella choir dancing and playing sassas, drums, and animal horns tapped with a stick. Here was joy-filled, celebrated Christianity -- and to those who watched us that night there was no doubt about our joy in the Lord as we sang in the Kpella language: "Where are we going? We are going to God's Village."
Chirpy the parakeet had lost such joy which made her sing, and perhaps we too who gather here. But as Jesus told in his parable of a father and his wedding feast for his son -- it's joy to which we are invited and joy into which we have the privilege of inviting others.
Perhaps it's the preachers' fault that we often miss the joy of discipleship. We often deal with such sad, grim issues like death and illness that we soon take on the aura of undertakers and criminal judges. However, the invitation is to a celebration, a feast, a joy-filled wedding.
Sometimes we give off the perception that this Christian joy is what we obtain when we die rather than having it right now. Like so many of the New Testament promises, we read them as something that, if we are good enough, we'll have in the future.
Consider Matthew's listing of Jesus' preaching themes called the Beatitudes in chapter 5. When we read them in a "stained glass" voice it sounds as if it will happen in the "sweet by-and-by" rather than right now while at the wedding feast to which we have been invited.
The Beatitudes could very well be translated: Oh, the joy of the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, and the pure in heart. Oh, the joy of the peacemakers and those who are persecuted. It's joy now for them and for us.
These are not promises for the future but congratulations on how it can be for Christians in God's kingdom here in the present. It's even joy for such as Chirpy the parakeet who got sucked into a vacuum cleaner, doused with water, and just doesn't sing much anymore. Perk up, sad bird, and sing again with us for we have joy.
There is something else in this parable that preachers over the years have called attention to. Those who did not come to the wedding reception probably had fairly good reasons not to do so. One went to his field no doubt to cultivate or water the crop and another went to his business. Everyone knows when you are in business you must be there to make it a successful one. It's a warning we busy Americans all need to hear. Second best can often crowd out the very best.
We must watch out as we set our priorities. That which is okay can often crowd out that which is critically important, like parenting, worship, marriage relationships, and stewardship. It's not the central message here but one you and I very much need to take seriously. The old adage that we should be careful lest "making a living crowd out making a life" is still worth taking to heart.
If in this parable we let the wedding banquet represent the holy communion feast in our church, then we have real reason to consider what crowds out our being here at this feast of Christ's presence when we remember what God did for us in Jesus on Calvary's cross, Easter's empty tomb, and Pentecost's Spirit blessing. The list could be long on why we turn down this gracious invitation to eat bread and drink wine together, and experience the Christ with us like no other time in our lives.
It is an invitation of grace, isn't it? We don't deserve to be here and we don't deserve to have God do for us what has already been done in our salvation and empowerment to live life to the fullest now. But still God invites us anyhow, just as that king had his servants invite those on the street corners in his day. They weren't relatives; they hadn't contributed to his campaign for king; and they didn't know the bride or groom. Still, they were asked to the feast. We are, too. And perhaps even sad, ruffled-feathers Chirpy also!
Now, what could be the flip side of this story of joy and graciousness? Each of these parables, if we dig deep enough, has a secondary message that may be beneficial to us in our day as well. I believe this parable's flip side is how those undeserving guests, who were invited into such joy as a wedding reception, had a special challenge. How were they to live together after the party?
Years ago in a church magazine question-and-answer column, there was a debate about whether in Lutheran churches the ushers should guide the people out after worship. I'll never forget one letter to the editor which profoundly commented like this: "Usher them in? Usher them out? I say lock the doors and see if they can live with each other!"
That's the question here. How do we relate to each other, we who have been given such an undeserved gift of grace and celebration of joy? Our answer has to be that the same kind of undeserved grace given us we should give each other. The same kind of joy given us we should offer to each other. Jesus' admonitions to love one another, to turn the other cheek, to go the extra mile, to pray for each other, to be kind, and so on, are directions for how we treat each other who also have not deserved the forgiveness, the eternal life, and the spirit with us now so graciously given.
To have this undeserved grace means not only a certain profound joy, but also a big responsibility. It dictates gracious behavior to others, especially when they don't deserve it.
It also tells us who and how we invite to join us in God's present kingdom. They don't need to look or act like us. They don't need to be society's well-accepted or the community's majority (if it has one). They don't have to be of our culture or what we call "our people." They don't have to be those who "fit in" or behave as we should.
We just invite because we have been invited. And then we do our best to see that others experience the joy which has so enriched our own lives. It's the joy which is the opposite of unbelief. It's the joy Chirpy lost in the vacuum cleaner and under the water faucet. It's the joy I experienced deep in the Sumatran jungle.
We arrived at Tapiannauli, the Bona ni Pinasa (village of origin) of one of my Batak Christian seminary students. After catechizing approximately 150 on Saturday evening, we drank coffee they had grown and roasted, then we sang. A beautiful kebaya-clad girl named Omega stood and sang out hymn after hymn to familiar tunes. The next morning I preached a naked, simple gospel: of Jesus born in Bethlehem, a godly ministry in Galilee, sacrifice on the cross for our forgiveness, Easter resurrection -- that we too might come out of the grave -- and then returned in Spirit to be with us here now.
And then while the old women chewed napuran, we sang and celebrated the presence of that same Spirit with us still. A pig was killed and a hula hula (celebration) held. We ate sac-sang and they presented me with an ulas (cloth of deep friendship).
That simple, without-frills Christianity touched me deeply as we sang hymns of joy in God's presence. It was "the basics" at Tapiannauli bush village and it was full of joy.*
So we return to where we started in this sermon about Jesus' story of a wedding feast where everyone was invited. Living together afterward must have been the hardest part. But we must, and we have help.
To have this kind of invitation to joy is also a big responsibility. And when life sucks us into the vacuum cleaner like Chirpy -- we can still sing again.
____________
*Illustrations used in this sermon are from Schmalenberger's book of stories and metaphors titled These Will Preach, CSS Publishing, 1999, pp. 74-75.
Our church has many who don't sing much anymore, if they ever did, but just sit and stare. Today's parable of a wedding reception is for them and us.
Matthew and Luke thought it important enough to record it sometime after Jesus told the story. It was probably first aimed at the religious of Jesus' day who refused his invitation to God's kingdom. He had come to invite them into it and they refused the invitation.
So he told this story to say that like a man who invited many to his son's wedding celebration and no one came, so too, he came with an invitation to the religious to come into God's kingdom and no one came. So, he said, others must be invited.
In the parable as he told it, the father of the groom sent out servants with this inclusive instruction: " 'Go to the street corners and invite to the banquet anyone you find.' So the servants went out into the streets and gathered all the people they could find, both good and bad, and the wedding hall was filled with guests" (Matthew 22:8, 10).
This ought to be an encouraging parable for us. For it says much about how and who we should invite into God's kingdom. It tells us the invitation is one to joy. That's where Chirpy the parakeet comes in. If you feel you've been through the vacuum cleaner and your baptismal water washed you but did not bring joy; if the practice of your discipleship is rather bland, uninteresting, and of little relevance to real life -- this parable is for you.
If we get nothing else said today, let's say this loud and clear: we are invited into a life of joy. The great preacher George A. Buttrick used to say, "Joy is what we are chosen for and joy is what we have to offer to all who will come. It is a deep sense of joy not dependent on the number of things we get done in a day, for this is not the opposite of unhappiness but the opposite of unbelief."
The invitation was not to a funeral wake, but a wedding feast! Sometimes in our sense of awe and reverence we give out the wrong signal about Christianity -- it looks grim, depressing, and downright dismal, like Chirpy after her vacuum cleaner experience.
I preached in Curran Memorial Church in Sanoyea, Liberia, one dark night. There were no lights in the church, except for the ones the several hundred villagers brought with them. They placed a Coleman gasoline lantern in front of me so the congregation could see me as I spoke. The lantern kept running down and a deacon kept pumping it up during my sermon with the comment, "Preach on."
After the service -- and I had preached for an hour -- the elder of the congregation led us through the town with lanterns, the Kpella choir dancing and playing sassas, drums, and animal horns tapped with a stick. Here was joy-filled, celebrated Christianity -- and to those who watched us that night there was no doubt about our joy in the Lord as we sang in the Kpella language: "Where are we going? We are going to God's Village."
Chirpy the parakeet had lost such joy which made her sing, and perhaps we too who gather here. But as Jesus told in his parable of a father and his wedding feast for his son -- it's joy to which we are invited and joy into which we have the privilege of inviting others.
Perhaps it's the preachers' fault that we often miss the joy of discipleship. We often deal with such sad, grim issues like death and illness that we soon take on the aura of undertakers and criminal judges. However, the invitation is to a celebration, a feast, a joy-filled wedding.
Sometimes we give off the perception that this Christian joy is what we obtain when we die rather than having it right now. Like so many of the New Testament promises, we read them as something that, if we are good enough, we'll have in the future.
Consider Matthew's listing of Jesus' preaching themes called the Beatitudes in chapter 5. When we read them in a "stained glass" voice it sounds as if it will happen in the "sweet by-and-by" rather than right now while at the wedding feast to which we have been invited.
The Beatitudes could very well be translated: Oh, the joy of the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, and the pure in heart. Oh, the joy of the peacemakers and those who are persecuted. It's joy now for them and for us.
These are not promises for the future but congratulations on how it can be for Christians in God's kingdom here in the present. It's even joy for such as Chirpy the parakeet who got sucked into a vacuum cleaner, doused with water, and just doesn't sing much anymore. Perk up, sad bird, and sing again with us for we have joy.
There is something else in this parable that preachers over the years have called attention to. Those who did not come to the wedding reception probably had fairly good reasons not to do so. One went to his field no doubt to cultivate or water the crop and another went to his business. Everyone knows when you are in business you must be there to make it a successful one. It's a warning we busy Americans all need to hear. Second best can often crowd out the very best.
We must watch out as we set our priorities. That which is okay can often crowd out that which is critically important, like parenting, worship, marriage relationships, and stewardship. It's not the central message here but one you and I very much need to take seriously. The old adage that we should be careful lest "making a living crowd out making a life" is still worth taking to heart.
If in this parable we let the wedding banquet represent the holy communion feast in our church, then we have real reason to consider what crowds out our being here at this feast of Christ's presence when we remember what God did for us in Jesus on Calvary's cross, Easter's empty tomb, and Pentecost's Spirit blessing. The list could be long on why we turn down this gracious invitation to eat bread and drink wine together, and experience the Christ with us like no other time in our lives.
It is an invitation of grace, isn't it? We don't deserve to be here and we don't deserve to have God do for us what has already been done in our salvation and empowerment to live life to the fullest now. But still God invites us anyhow, just as that king had his servants invite those on the street corners in his day. They weren't relatives; they hadn't contributed to his campaign for king; and they didn't know the bride or groom. Still, they were asked to the feast. We are, too. And perhaps even sad, ruffled-feathers Chirpy also!
Now, what could be the flip side of this story of joy and graciousness? Each of these parables, if we dig deep enough, has a secondary message that may be beneficial to us in our day as well. I believe this parable's flip side is how those undeserving guests, who were invited into such joy as a wedding reception, had a special challenge. How were they to live together after the party?
Years ago in a church magazine question-and-answer column, there was a debate about whether in Lutheran churches the ushers should guide the people out after worship. I'll never forget one letter to the editor which profoundly commented like this: "Usher them in? Usher them out? I say lock the doors and see if they can live with each other!"
That's the question here. How do we relate to each other, we who have been given such an undeserved gift of grace and celebration of joy? Our answer has to be that the same kind of undeserved grace given us we should give each other. The same kind of joy given us we should offer to each other. Jesus' admonitions to love one another, to turn the other cheek, to go the extra mile, to pray for each other, to be kind, and so on, are directions for how we treat each other who also have not deserved the forgiveness, the eternal life, and the spirit with us now so graciously given.
To have this undeserved grace means not only a certain profound joy, but also a big responsibility. It dictates gracious behavior to others, especially when they don't deserve it.
It also tells us who and how we invite to join us in God's present kingdom. They don't need to look or act like us. They don't need to be society's well-accepted or the community's majority (if it has one). They don't have to be of our culture or what we call "our people." They don't have to be those who "fit in" or behave as we should.
We just invite because we have been invited. And then we do our best to see that others experience the joy which has so enriched our own lives. It's the joy which is the opposite of unbelief. It's the joy Chirpy lost in the vacuum cleaner and under the water faucet. It's the joy I experienced deep in the Sumatran jungle.
We arrived at Tapiannauli, the Bona ni Pinasa (village of origin) of one of my Batak Christian seminary students. After catechizing approximately 150 on Saturday evening, we drank coffee they had grown and roasted, then we sang. A beautiful kebaya-clad girl named Omega stood and sang out hymn after hymn to familiar tunes. The next morning I preached a naked, simple gospel: of Jesus born in Bethlehem, a godly ministry in Galilee, sacrifice on the cross for our forgiveness, Easter resurrection -- that we too might come out of the grave -- and then returned in Spirit to be with us here now.
And then while the old women chewed napuran, we sang and celebrated the presence of that same Spirit with us still. A pig was killed and a hula hula (celebration) held. We ate sac-sang and they presented me with an ulas (cloth of deep friendship).
That simple, without-frills Christianity touched me deeply as we sang hymns of joy in God's presence. It was "the basics" at Tapiannauli bush village and it was full of joy.*
So we return to where we started in this sermon about Jesus' story of a wedding feast where everyone was invited. Living together afterward must have been the hardest part. But we must, and we have help.
To have this kind of invitation to joy is also a big responsibility. And when life sucks us into the vacuum cleaner like Chirpy -- we can still sing again.
____________
*Illustrations used in this sermon are from Schmalenberger's book of stories and metaphors titled These Will Preach, CSS Publishing, 1999, pp. 74-75.
