The 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Isaiah 25:6-10a; Philippians 4:12-14, 19-20; Matthew 22:1-14
When my brother asked me to be his daughter’s Godfather, I was delighted. I flew to New York planning to spend the weekend at his home, enjoy the baptism, the baby, the party, and catching up with relatives I hadn’t seen in years. Unfortunately, we flew through a lot of turbulence; by the time we landed, I felt terrible. I got to his house, found a bed, and laid down for a while to recover.
When I woke up, no one was home except a woman working on the front lawn – my sister-in-law’s mother, Mrs. McMahon. She looked up, smiled, and asked, “Feeling better?” I said I was. “Good,” she replied, “Pick up that sack of dirt and follow me.” Next thing I knew, we were both working on the front lawn. When we finished, I hoped that was it, but she said, “Now, on to the back yard.” Ugh. An hour later, she said, “Let’s go in now.” I was so relieved – until I got in. I should’ve known; there were folding tables to put up, tablecloths to lay, places to set, dishes to do, a dinner to start, and floors to vacuum. When my brother came home, he said, “You didn’t have to do all this!” I said, “Yes, I did! Have you ever met your mother-in-law? Is she always like this?”
I admit that at the time I was feeling very put upon. I went there expecting to sit around, take it easy, and enjoy myself. Instead, I felt like I was the host and my brother and his family were the guests. However, the next day, when I saw them relaxed and enjoying themselves, I had a change of heart; I felt bad that it hadn’t occurred to me to do what Mrs. McMahon did: Look around, see how I might be able to help, and get busy.
That reminded me about the first of the two surprises in today’s parable. As you know, parables are designed to make us think by adding plot twists we don’t expect. The first twist was the reaction of the guests who were re-invited to a banquet they had already refused. We expect them to be annoyed, but to kill the servants? What’s that all about?
Well, it’s a parable, so the killing symbolizes something; in this case, how we sometimes kill the urge to be selfless. As Bishop Sheen once reminded us, God tempts us far more often than Satan does. Think of all the times in a day we are “tempted” to put other people first, think about them, do something nice for them. These are moments of actual grace; invitations from God to unite our will to His by seeking the good of others. Now, consider what putting our own will first does, like I did: it smothers those impulses.
Most of us try to do both, to look out for others and for ourselves. That’s not a problem. The problem comes when we get comfortable and refuse to be challenged. Maybe we’ve been invited to help at the parish, go to a pro-life chain, work at a food pantry, or any of a number of things. Sometimes we really can’t do it; other times we can, but it’s very tempting to turn that invitation down in favor of what we want. We like doing our own will, and it may content us for a while, but in the end we’re not happy. Happiness only comes when we take advantage of the actual graces God makes available – like when He gave me the example of Mrs. McMahon to show me, against my will, that happiness involves a lot more than just “showing up.”
And that reminds me of the second twist in the parable: The wedding garment. Why is the man without one punished so severely when he had no idea he was going to need it? Scholars tell us that, in those days, if a man showed up without a proper garment, the host would offer him one from his own stock. That’s not unheard of today. Some high-end restaurants require a tie and suit coat; they offer them to men who come in without them, and will escort them out if they refuse. So in the parable: A garment was available, the man refused to wear it, and as a result was “escorted out” in no uncertain terms.
But again, the question is, what does the garment symbolize? As I see it, it is a sign that we have “put on Christ,” in the words of St. Paul (Romans 13:14), or, in modern terms, that we are “walking the talk.” I went to New York to be a Godparent – someone who had put on Christ, was living the faith. But was I? Not so much. I went to Mass every week, sang in the choir, even donated money, but in my heart, I knew that I was living every other hour of the week as if I’d never heard of Christ. On the other hand, there was Mrs. McMahon; she, too, had traveled a long way, and was twice my age. Yet she almost never sat down, either the day before or the day of the baptism; instead, she served, saw to other peoples’ needs. And she was happy doing it. Her daughter told me that her mom was just that way; wherever she went, she saw the need and tried to fill it. Of the two of us, she was the one who had put on Christ, who lived her faith for the world to see.
So, what does this mean for us? That we’re all supposed to be another Mrs. McMahon? Yes and no. Yes, in the sense that we, too, are called to show Christ to the world. How? As St. Paul said, by knowing how to live in humble circumstances or abundance, well-fed or hungry, in plenty or in need, because the source of our happiness is none of those things, it is Christ alone. From him comes the strength we need not only to endure, but to prosper. And no, in the sense that God already has one Mrs. McMahon; he doesn’t need any more. What he needs is us, with the gifts he has given us. Every day, he invites us in countless ways to become the people he created us to be. Is it hard? Yes. Do we sometimes want to turn the invitation down, go in and relax? Sure. But again, take heart, and remember: We have the strength of Christ on our side. In him, we can do all things.
I can almost hear him saying, “Feeling better? Good. Pick up that cross and follow me.”
Mark 10:45 