All are called, but with what attire? Without pretence
Mt 22:1–14 (1–21)
The ‘wedding garment’ (vv. 11–12) is a symbol of what is essential – that which is indispensable, even if precarious, without any trappings of refinement.
‘“Each one of you, therefore, who has faith in God within the Church has already taken part in the wedding feast, but cannot claim to have the wedding garment unless you preserve the grace of Charity” (Homily 38,9: PL 76,1287). And this garment is symbolically woven from two pieces of wood, one above and the other below: the love of God and the love of neighbour (cf. ibid., 10: PL 76, 1288)’ (Gregory the Great; Pope Benedict, 9 October 2011).
The Kingdom of God proclaimed by Jesus differs from that imagined by the rabbis, whose doctrine could condone personal and civil negligence [e.g. merchants in the temple, the barren fig tree, objections to authority, murderous vineyard workers, and so on: Mt 21].
The Banquet preached by the Master is not a Garden of Eden prepared for a future in the hereafter, which in the meantime – albeit in flashes – might tolerate inauthenticity. Rather, it is a direct link.
His table, laid out with food, is the new state into which the person who trusts in his proposal of sharing is brought.
There are those who feel sated, because they believe they already possess enough for a life without too many problems – and so they adapt to any occasion, however petty.
Such was the situation of the authorities, satisfied with the overabundant religious structure, which seemed to offer adequate social security, and certainty even before God.
Instead (how shall I put it?): it is not enough to have one’s name recorded in the parish registers, and then to turn up in the rags of one’s former life.
Today, the rebirth from the global crisis calls for fundamental choices, for a radical change in mindset and reality.
We truly need to renew our ‘wardrobe’, that is, to base our choices on new values.
It is time to become malleable once more, to reshape ourselves in the image of Christ, not to reject the changes that spur us on – to the point of building a shared life project and rebuilding the world around us.
Everyone is called (v. 14), yet some have not kept the little white robe of Baptism. They have, unfortunately, completely changed their attire – despite the fact that, in some cases, they preside over and defend the institution.
Jesus resumes speaking to the leaders and rebukes them without mincing his words, for he does not compare the Kingdom of the Father to one of their own liturgical assemblies—those well-organised gatherings of great authority, full of artifice… but rather to a wedding feast, without sacred banners!
In that festive simplicity, in the immediate and joyful candour of a wedding, there lies a human reality that characterises the divine condition: the spontaneous joy of frank, face-to-face relationships – now lost amidst the formalities of a religion that has become a habit.
This proposal for a joyful renewal is, however, rejected. The self-sufficient and the experts (who think they know it all) worship another master: self-interest.
Opportunism cannot be an ingredient of the Sacred: self-interest turns people in on themselves, blinds them, and makes them one-sided and gloomy.
It hands the Church over to the power brokers.
Jesus realises: everything that the shrewd and the theatre-loving were doing was for their own gain. In fact, they conceived of the Kingdom in an exclusive, pre-selected [and commercial, as usual] way.
As with the labourers of the last hour [Mt 20:1–16], the only currency for all is Christ himself. But the veterans, who consider themselves top of the class by right, have no interest in people’s happiness.
Thus, the fate of the Prophets was nothing more than the careless outcome of despicable calculations [in Luke 14:18–20, ‘perfectly ordinary’ daily duties] which, however, were leading the people to destruction (v. 7).
The backdrop to the parable is the friction between Jewish converts and Gentile converts.
Considering themselves the chosen ones – the ‘elect’ (v. 14) – the former refused to break bread, to share, and to place themselves on an equal footing with the latter.
It is interesting, however, that it was precisely the faithful servants who, when push came to shove, stood out in the opposite way: they were already recognised because, in any circumstance, they remained willing to enter the Banquet ‘last’.
In short, the space created by the self-exclusion of the people called first would not have succeeded in putting an ‘end’ to the efforts of those who have always fought for life and authenticity.
Fruit-bearing trees – as Jesus maintains, and as we see everywhere even today – do not like to dominate: they prefer to bear fruit, without opportunistic claims or envy.
They take risks and occupy only the last place; to be close to those who are uncertain, and to encourage them.
So in verse 9, Matthew does not speak of going to the crossroads [CEI translation] but rather to the junctions of the roads [Greek text].
Pope Francis would say: in the existential peripheries, where life is not taken for granted, but is always pulsating with new life. There, where one cannot remain indifferent.
The Greek term indicates the end of (reassuring) urban streets and the beginning of neglected and perilous paths.
In the Semitic mindset, these were the boundary of the pure territory and the threshold of precarious, contaminated places.
Not only that: God’s offer of love gathers first and foremost the ‘wicked’ [‘evil’: v.10, Greek text] to emphasise that Heaven is not ‘by merit’.
It is available to the needy, to those who recognise themselves as such.
Yet everyone may be poorly dressed on the outside, but not on the inside: that is, vigilant towards their brother and diligent.
We are called to abandon neglect and indifference.
To avoid creating confusion regarding the Face of God and to prevent ruining the lives of the most committed, a change of mindset is needed within the Church.
A decisive replacement of principles and conveniences, overturning every pyramid-like ideology based on self-interest and power.
Through Faith, which unites us unconditionally to the Bridegroom, the clean and splendid garment is always provided by the Master of the House.
But wearing it is the result of a conscious choice, one we make our own: the desire to ‘give birth to a new world, where we are all brothers and sisters, where there is a place for every outcast’ [Fratelli Tutti, no. 278].
In other words, we will continue to endure the journey through a parallel world – at times even within our own communities – where everything is disconnected and duplicitous: the result of terrible indoctrination, corrupt choices and diabolical motives.
As if the only God worshipped were ‘marketing and convenience’.
To internalise and live out the message:
What do you consider diabolical and imagine might lead you astray from the spiritual path? Do you think of God in a serious light, or do you associate him with the joy of a wedding feast?
Restoring to God the image of true humanity. Which acronym?
(Mt 22:15–21)
Following the expulsion of the money-changers from the Temple, the challenge to his authority and the parables of the two sons, the murderous vineyard tenants and the rejected banquet (all of which referred to the elite), here is another clash between Jesus and the political and religious leaders – the latter remaining behind the scenes.
Jesus (in his own way) systematically dismantles the traps set by the leaders and the usual experts.
With well-honed duplicity, they approach Him, seeking to flatter His pride (v. 16: situations that often befall even critical witnesses).
The interests of the crafty, however, clash with Christ’s focus, which is entirely directed towards the genuine good of people and respect for the intelligence of things – not towards a craving for approval or opportunism.
It was precisely in the Temple (Mt 21:23) – the pre-eminent Dwelling Place of the one Lord God – that these officials provoked the new Rabbi over the payment of taxes to the Romans (22:17).
We know what was at stake: the accusation of not being a prophet according to divine law, or (conversely) that of collaboration with the occupiers.
The Master is not taken in by their ostentatious display of closeness to the God of Israel – a false display because it was sought from without – and he easily outwits them.
In the Temple of Jerusalem, it was forbidden to carry Roman coins, which bore imperial portraits and insignia (contrary to the Commandment ‘You shall not make for yourself any graven image’).
He asks them for one, however, because he actually had none. But it is precisely these pompous figures who hand one to him… The scene borders on the ridiculous.
By drawing the forbidden coin from the pouch concealed beneath their cloaks, the leaders themselves reveal their true god: self-interest (well hidden beneath deeply devout and ostentatious manners, which serve only as a smokescreen).
Christ urges us not to be flattered by the ostentatious duplicity of outward signs: what matters is not to deceive people by using pious forms as a mask for theatrics (v. 18, Greek text).
Fanatics of purity live only for the superficial; and they rely on it: not infrequently, they skilfully conceal the very material passions they disdain. With Christ, this does not work.
Each person is called to restore to their true Lord the indelible image and likeness that has been engraved within them. Let the coin, therefore, be returned to its owner.
Women and men – creatures in whom the image and likeness of God is imprinted – should return themselves in authenticity to the Creator (v. 21) who dwells in their very essence as persons.
Humanity is marked by a far more intimate and natural sense of belonging than mere convenience.
The Eucharist, gratuitousness and strangers: unheard of or marketing
(Luke 14:15–24)
Jesus does not compare the Kingdom of the Father to a solemn assembly, but to a great Banquet!
Yet this proposal for joyful renewal is rejected. The self-sufficient and the self-important have other commitments and interests…
After the destruction of the Temple, the leadership of the synagogues was taken over by the Pharisees, who had survived the disaster because their traditionalism lacked explicit political-nationalist undertones.
Indeed, they believed that the expectation of the Messiah had nothing to do with the struggle against Rome; in this respect, they seemed to be in agreement with the Christians.
But they constantly demanded that their followers strictly observe the rules that defined traditional Jewish religion.
After the year 70, this insistence led them to an increasingly obsessive condemnation of Jews who had converted to the Lord Jesus – and, by the end of the century, to their expulsion from the synagogues.
The fundamentalist religious leaders thus ended up socially marginalising even those faithful to the younger Messiah, who were guilty of neglecting the distinctions between the customs of Israel and those of other peoples.
In the communities described in Luke’s Gospel, the situation was less divisive, but equally vivid.
Those who had converted to faith in Christ came largely from pagan backgrounds; despite differences in cultural background and social class, they lived out here and there [without those purist ideological biases] the ideal of sharing and communion, including the sharing of material goods.
The invitation to take part in the Feast was initially extended to the children of Israel, who still likened the messianic age to a great Banquet, characterised by gratitude and (internal) brotherhood.
But the difficulties in broadening the criteria for communion stemmed precisely from those who had converted from Judaism, who, through long-standing practice, retained the custom of not sharing food with outsiders; hence the breaking of the Eucharistic Bread.
Within the context of their customs and the sacred laws set out in the Torah (Deut 20:5–7), the behaviour of those who refused the invitation in the parable of the Banquet (vv. 18–20) was legitimate from the point of view of recognised law – though not from that of friendship.
It is to emphasise the significance of the gesture that the host of the feast instructs his servants to gather precisely those who were socially excluded from the ancient religion, because they were considered impure: the pagans. Open to hope.
Christ continues to draw a dividing line between those who advocate an order and ideals that are untouchable and above human reality, and those who, being on the periphery, are always willing to take part in the Feast.
They are not the sort who are ‘all preoccupied with ritual’, with manners, with appearances; but with the life they radiate.
The latter do not allow themselves to be influenced by privileges, their own possessions, or laws: they give without keeping a double-entry account, they accept with natural readiness; they rejoice in reality and not in the distinction between the sacred and the profane. They do not think they already have the answer, and they do not end up becoming slaves to it.
Jesus’ teaching invites us not to limit our affections and not to let our hearts become weighed down by customs, by a particular or prevailing mindset, by legalistic constraints – or by ‘all sorts of things’.
In the assembly of the children, it is not the well-off [serious people, full of commitments, who have no time to spare, with too many possessions and invitations to manage] but the lowly folk… who take centre stage… despite their limited abilities.
All this is because a characteristic of the Little Ones and the destitute is their willingness to cross boundaries: this is what makes them capable of heeding God’s call.
Those who are far away – though in dire straits – fill the Father’s house.
In society, the poor are just one among many, but the invitation to the table conveys to them a sense of values that do not stifle life with pettiness, and fosters bonds; indeed, the destitute often have a better understanding of divine and human matters.
This ever-increasing awareness of our likeness to the Son of God is accentuated by the lack of ‘adequate’ means: a scarcity that makes things true, that prompts others to reflect – whilst remaining unremarkable, incapable of causing a stir.
Such an intimate, luminous, transfiguring awareness pales and fades in the maelstrom of legalism and cultural conventions.
It seems to wane amidst the dizzying proliferation of activities – activities which do not reform: they render us detached and conditioned by the advantages of worldly-sacred security, which is, unfortunately, monopolistic.
A compulsory banquet would not be a Banquet… it is certainly not a Feast, a Gift to be cherished – confused with advantages or perfections [a dreadful misinterpretation by stubborn, observant circles].
For this reason, many prefer their own particular purgatory to the Heaven on earth that the Father offers.
Our solidarity is not a matter of sympathy, shared interests or a sense of camaraderie, but rather the result of a far-reaching Call, of a single, powerful Life that flows through us all, respecting our freedom and reality – as well as the stages of change.
To paraphrase the encyclical *Fratelli Tutti* (nos. 13–15, passim), in accordance with the passage from Luke, we must remain vigilant so as not to impoverish the life of Faith, transforming it into a detached commitment to ‘cultural colonisation’.
If this were the case, even the universal-Catholic horizon of a conviviality of differences would dissolve into an invitation that is overly standardised, utterly predictable, and ultimately barren.
A rigid or self-serving rejection of the Banquet would bring with it – as we see before our very eyes – the ‘further disintegration’ of ‘critical thinking’, of action ‘for justice’, and of its ‘paths to integration’.
Even ecclesial society, in fact, may run the risk of ‘distorting grand ideals’, ‘risking impoverishment’; and thus ‘sinking into the tyranny of the strongest’ and ‘mere ephemeral marketing formulas, which find their most effective resource in the destruction of the other’.
But the people of God cannot live in a parallel, disconnected and dual world – as if the one Eternal One they worship were merely a jumble of cunning, marketing and expediency.
To internalise and live out the message:
What does the Eucharist convey in your church community or group? What particular and special invitation does it convey?
