Weddings, No-Shows, and Crashers

Opening & Introduction

Father, thank you for this time we could spend together just worshiping you. It’s so refreshing to just come and worship with your family. And Father, we just pray now as we open up our hearts to hear from you in the word that Mike is about to share. So, Father, from everything he’s got prepared and everything he says, would you just send your Holy Spirit to quicken to each person exactly what they need to hear out of today’s word, in Jesus’s name. Amen.

Okay, today is going to be about the wedding feast. I recall there are two tellings of this particular parable (one in Matthew, one in Luke. This is going to be the one in Matthew, which is decidedly a little less) I don’t want to say a little less happy and joyful, because it’s still happy and joyful, but there are some little pokes in the ribs that happen in Matthew’s telling, and it undoubtedly has something to do with his audience. This is coming from Matthew 22:1-14, and I’ve entitled it “Weddings, No-Shows, and Crashers.” And yep, it happens.

First-Century Betrothal Customs

Weddings and the big party that follows are kind of a polarizing thing for me. I either very much look forward to them, or (depending) I almost kind of dread them, and I shouldn’t. That’s wrong. Sometimes you wonder, “Oh boy, how did I qualify to get an invite to this?” And it’s usually because maybe the relationship you have with that particular couple is a little distant (more acquaintances than friends) and you say, “Oh, we got an invite,” and you’re not exactly running to the calendar to mark the date. But sometimes it’s the ones where you know the couple intimately. You’ve seen them grow. You’ve seen them fall. You’ve seen them stand up and brush themselves off and carry on. And now we have that day we look forward to, regardless of the situation. That’s the way it ought to be. There ought to be great anticipation, all the time.

In Jesus’s day, in first-century Israel, weddings were a huge part of the town’s social calendar. The richer the family, the longer they could last, and the more (what’s the word) schmancy they could become.

Now remember, betrothal in North America in 2026 looks like: “Will you marry me?” Bended knee, hopefully. The big announcement, hugs, and then there’s the ring, the rock on the finger, and that’s pretty much it. But in first-century Israel, betrothal was a huge thing. It was a serious affair. It involved ceremony and parents, there was a rabbi there, and vows were exchanged. As one rabbi put it, “You are married in every way except that which leads to family.”

And for the prospective groom, the following year was one of heavy labor, because he had his own job, his own trade, and on his off hours he had to build a home for his dearly beloved (design it, build it, furnish it) so that when the actual wedding happened, there was the picking up of the bride over the threshold, and there was a home right there. There was no “we’re going to rent an apartment over on Fifth.” You had to build a home. And the wedding ceremony could not take place until that home was built, and the rabbis and the bride’s family had approved and given their blessing. Now we can schedule the wedding ceremony. Marriage is a big deal. It should be a big deal.

Reading Matthew 22:1-14

Jesus also told them other parables. He said, “The kingdom of heaven can be illustrated by the story of a king who prepared a great wedding feast for his son. And when the banquet was ready, he sent his servants to notify those who were invited. But they all refused to come. So he sent other servants to tell them, ‘Hey, the feast has been prepared. The bulls and the fattened cattle have been killed, and everything is ready. Come to the banquet.’ But the guests he had invited ignored them and went their own way, one to his farm, another to his business. Others seized his messengers and insulted them and killed them. The king was furious, and he sent out his army to destroy the murderers and burn their town. And he said to his servants, ‘The wedding feast is ready, and the guests I invited are not worthy of the honor. Now go out to the street corners and invite everyone you see.’ So the servants brought in everyone they could find, good and bad alike, and the banquet hall was filled with guests. But when the king came in to meet the guests, he noticed a man who wasn’t wearing the proper clothes for the wedding. ‘Friend,’ he asked, ‘how is it that you are here without wedding clothes?’ But the man had no reply. And the king said to his aides, ‘Bind his hands and feet and throw him into outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ For many are called, but few are chosen.”

Yikes. That’s not exactly what you anticipate at a wedding banquet. Bouncers come, they don’t just toss him out on his rear end. They bind his hands and feet and fling him out the door. I’m kind of dumbfounded by Jesus saying that the kingdom of heaven is like that, right? Because this telling of the parable seems to contain a lot more of Jesus that makes him more like somebody who throws over the money changers’ tables and starts cracking a whip, which, by the way, only happened days before the telling of this parable. So it’s very likely that many, possibly most, of the listeners to this parable were witness to the flipping over of the tables and the cracking of the whip. They were witness to Jesus, meek and humble, when he was doing that. And I say that, of course, because often when we think about Jesus we think meek and mild Jesus, except every once in a while, when the occasion called for it and he had to flex, he flexed.

So this is heaven? Well, yeah, no. What we have here is a cautionary tale, and we would do well to listen very carefully.

Marriage as Consummation and Joy

Marriage is consummation. That’s what it is, the very real joining together of bodies and spirits. That’s the intention. And then the party. Then the party. The joy. If you came from a blue-collar family, maybe it was beans and rice, and the best wine you could muster up for the occasion. If you came from a little more money, maybe it was prime rib and a better vintage. But it really didn’t matter in the end, because the joy was the same, because there was the witnessing of a joining of bodies and spirits. The two shall become one in every conceivable way. What God brings together, there is joy. There is blessing. And for the little we actually know of heaven, we know this: there is joy and there is blessing, and it is found living for an eternity in the presence of our heavenly Father.

Okay. So far so good. We haven’t cracked any whips yet.

The Ignored Invitation

So the host sends out the invites. We need RSVPs, says the king. And not one comes back. Who are these invites sent out to? Well, don’t you know, just prior to the telling of this particular parable, we might want to backtrack to chapter 21. Because remember folks, it’s all about context, right? We don’t want to be chicken-pickers who pick out our favorite verse and build an entire life passage about that. We want to read what comes before. We want to read what comes after. So here’s what comes in chapter 21, at the very end: “When the leading priests and Pharisees heard this parable” (the parable of the evil farmers) “they realized he was telling the story against them. They were the wicked farmers. They wanted to arrest him, but they were afraid of the crowds, because the crowds considered Jesus to be a prophet.”

An old preacher once told me, and I think probably all old preachers were told this by even older preachers, something they were supposed to carry with them, he said, “A good message is one that comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable.” I believe Jesus was doing exactly that right here, to those leading priests and Pharisees. He’s saying: “You got the invitation. I want to see you at the banquet. But what are you going to do with the invitation? It requires action on your part.”

In dusty little Palestinian towns, to say no to a wedding invitation was tantamount to withholding your blessing from the bride and bridegroom. If you weren’t going to show, it had better be because you were deathly ill or burying a family member. Otherwise, buddy, it’s on the calendar and you’re going, and you’re going to celebrate. Does that mean everybody did? No. I’m sure there were those who said, “Well, old Solomon over there, he took me for a ride on that last goat I bought from him, said it was premium and hasn’t…” You know what I’m talking about. We let our little offenses do that to us. “Now I’m not going to celebrate this.” But the invitation still goes out. The invitation still goes out.

What does the king say? “I’ve slaughtered the finest of my herds and my flocks. They’ve been dressed and they’re ready for the barbecue. The table I’m setting is going to blow your mind. Don’t miss it.” But they’re ignored. Invitations get sniffed at. Folks look at him and go, “Oh, whatever.” They don’t give regard to the wonderful thing that is about to happen.

Then we read in verse 6, “Others seized his messengers and insulted them and killed them.” This, of course, is a reference to the killing of the prophets by this same body of very fancily dressed people who called themselves the protectors of the law. It’s also a prophetic statement by Jesus for what the priests and Pharisees are going to do to him only a short time from then. Remember, the telling of this parable is during Passion Week. What happens at the end of Passion Week? Good Friday, Jesus’s kangaroo-court trial, flogging, and death by crucifixion. All of this is just days away.

Judgment and the Burning of the Town

This is where the king says, “Enough.” And judgment comes quickly. In verse 7 we read, “The king was furious, and he sent out his army to destroy the murderers and burn their town.” You’ve got to understand that in the ancient world, when a town was burned, it was left as a desecrated piece of land. Nobody’s going to live there again. It’s removed from the face of the earth.

The killing of the murderers is plain enough. The burning of their town might actually be a reference to the destruction of the whole order of the Sanhedrin and the sacking of Jerusalem in 70 AD. When I was reading about that, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t just making up stuff. And when Jerusalem was sacked, only about 40 years after Jesus’s ascension, the order of the Sanhedrin (which carried so much weight, so much power, so much political muscle) was moved. They had to run off to another town, where they had something called a congress of the Pharisees. And you know what? They never had the political clout after that point anymore. It was kind of it for the glory days. It was done.

Jesus, in mercy, tells the story as an invitation to the religious leaders: despite our history as a people, despite your arrogance, despite your sin, despite your ignoring people in need and people who need love, all in the name of God and religious purity, it doesn’t have to be this way. If a big chunk of the audience are the Pharisees and the leaders of religious law, Jesus is saying it doesn’t have to be this way, guys. The invitation is still being held out to you. You still have a seat at the banquet. It’s available.

A Christmas Carol: Still Time to Repent

Remember Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol? I love that story. There are three spirits, the spirit of Christmas past, the spirit of Christmas present, and the spirit of Christmas future. And the spirit of Christmas future is the scariest spirit of all. Ebenezer Scrooge is in awe and terror of this particular spirit, and he says, “Spirit, please tell me, are the shadows of things I’ve seen, do they have to be like that? Is there still time for me? Or is this it?” And the spirit simply shows him a desolate, lonely-looking gravestone with his name on it. And what does he do? He repents. And when he wakes up, he’s a changed man. He’s an old guy, bouncing and jumping all over the place, handing out cash like it’s candy to the neighborhood kids, and not just paying what a person should get for their wages, but far in excess of what somebody would get for that service. He repented. He saw the choice laid out to him, and he regained his spot at the banqueting table.

And we know ultimately what the Pharisees’ response will be, because we know what happens just days later. Jesus’s best and final warning is going to be rejected, and the comfortable are about to become afflicted. And now attention is drawn to those afflicted who are in desperate need of comfort.

Our Street Corners: Good and Bad Alike

We read in verses 9 and 10, “Now go out to the street corners and invite everyone you see. So the servants brought in everyone they could find, good and bad alike, and the banquet hall was filled with guests.”

So let’s bring it back up to 2026, shall we? Where’s our street corners? Right here in our community. Who’s our good and bad? Can I suggest something, when we address that question, why don’t we take a good long, hard look in the mirror first? That’s always a great place to start. I find in my life a high degree of confidence that spending a little time in self-reflection, placing the spotlight on other people’s shortcomings, is not a thing we default to, because God in his grace and mercy says, “Son, daughter, there’s this thing I’d love to work on with you.” It’s not rejection. He still calls us son and daughter, but “I’d like you to reflect Jesus a little bit more.” So why don’t we do that? When it’s our choice to make that our first gaze into the mirror, it’s amazing how little our attention is drawn to the shortcomings of others. I know I’ve got more than enough of my own shortcomings to keep me busy.

Maybe our street corners are Glattus Avenue. Maybe it’s all along South Fraser Way. But notice how Matthew says “good and bad alike.” There’s no dividing wall. You know what I know about human nature? We love walls. A wall without integrity can kill you, but these aren’t the kind of walls Jesus was talking about here. These are the walls that keep people apart. It’s really easy to jump up, throw your nose and eyeballs over the top of the wall and say, “Well, at least I don’t do that.” And it goes both ways, regardless of which side of the wall you think you’re on.

If I’m good, reasonably well put together, pay my taxes, occasionally help a little old lady across the street, and of course I confess Jesus, well, then I guess I’m good. I’m all ready to go. But all that means is that the broken parts of me that so desperately need a savior are just a little better hidden. Now, if I come from the wrong side of town, maybe I have a substance abuse issue, maybe I’ve had multiple partners, maybe I work a lower-paying job or not a job at all and I require government resources to help me out at month’s end, I guess that makes me bad. My only advantage then is that I wear my need for a savior on my sleeve. The outside of me is literally screaming, “I need Jesus.” Now tell me something, who’s in a better position? The one who’s stuffing their need for a savior down, or the one who’s wearing it on their sleeve? I’ll leave that for you to think on.

Here’s the point: the banquet hall was filled with both kinds of folks. No walls, no comparison, a sin, by the way, that can be traced all the way back to the garden. Pride. It doesn’t get any more foundational than that. Every one of these folks, good and bad alike, is a desired guest at the marriage feast of the Lamb.

How about you? How do you wear your need for a savior? Do you tuck it away deep inside, your challenges and struggles hard to spot, your need for Jesus a card you keep close to your chest? Or are you the kind of person who’s well acquainted with shame, because the struggles are painted all over you? Do you think your experiences and choices have so marred you that the best you could ever hope for is mercy, grace doesn’t even become part of the picture, it’s mercy you’re crying out for?

It makes me think about a woman who needed mercy so badly that she got down on her hands and knees and crept through a crowd. She thought to herself, “If only I could touch the hem of his garment.” How many of us have ever been willing to admit that what we really need is just to reach out and touch the hem of his garment? And Jesus heals her and says, “It’s your faith. It’s not a human work. It’s an open heart ready to receive whatever Jesus has got to give you.” That’s all she wanted. But she lived in shame, no longer.

Okay, fast forward. We got to get through the betrothal, now let’s get to the banquet, shall we? Consummation has happened, literally and figuratively. Way back then, after the glasses broke and it’s mazel tov and everybody sings and dances, the bride and groom go off to their wedding chamber and consummate the marriage, and then the party starts. Can you imagine them coming in with the room full, everybody hungry, and then they finally show up and everyone’s going, “Yay!”, because now it’s consummated and now we can eat.

In our modern context, food and all the trappings of celebration are wonderful, but at the end of the day it’s about the gathering together for a common purpose, to celebrate and cheer the couple. Food’s great, nice wine is awesome, long-winded speeches from an uncle who likes to tell stories about how the bride spit up on him when she was two years old, maybe we don’t need those. But even the embarrassing tales are part of the celebration, and we all laugh and cheer and enjoy everybody’s company because we celebrate this couple. Who gets invited? People the couple recognize as having had some significant part to play in the life and development of the relationship, family, friends, associates who factored into the happy couple’s life. And then I remind myself, if I ever get invited, could it be because maybe even in the smallest, most minuscule way I played a part in their relationship? It’s not a prideful thing to say, “Hey, I guess maybe somehow I played a part in bringing this about.” Okay, we’ll celebrate.

The Robe of Righteousness

And then the king walks in. Verses 11 and 12: “But when the king came in to meet the guests, he noticed a man who wasn’t wearing proper clothes for the wedding. ‘Friend,’ he asked, ‘how is it that you are here without wedding clothes?’ But the man had no reply.” This section speaks volumes in two verses. What were the wedding clothes? Who got them? Why were they so necessary?

In ancient times and cultures (and when I was doing my research on this, it put a giant smile on my face, this is a beautiful thing) if it was a society wedding, a high-society wedding, a royal wedding, or somebody from the gentry, the host would provide appropriate wedding attire for his guests. You know what it was for? Eliminating any class distinctions. Isn’t that cool? It did not matter what side of the tracks you came from, because everybody was dressed to the nines, looking fine, thanks to the wedding host. This is a wedding host who’s got the money, who’s got the prestige, but in his banquet we’re not putting up walls. One is the same as the other. There’s no better table for the richer folk and lousier tables in the back that just get salad and all the meat’s gone. Everybody is the same.

Everybody was adorned in beautiful clothing because the host would actually maintain a wardrobe. Quite often, when people came to present themselves before the king, very rich wardrobes (the finest dyed fabrics, even jewels and gold) were meant as gifts. And the king would say, “Thank you very much, that’s lovely, can you please go put that in my wardrobe closet over there?” And he would hang onto it all. And when there was a royal wedding, all of that would come to the fore, and they’d say, “Here’s a wedding gown for you, and here’s one for you.” Everybody was looking like ten and a half. No single guest was held in higher esteem than another. Give that a think.

Now, the king (who we know is our Father God, King of the heavens and the earth) plays no favorites. Hallelujah, because otherwise I am hooped. The king has provided me with a wedding robe of righteousness that I was powerless to provide myself. You cannot go down to Robson Street in Vancouver, flash your gold card, and buy yourself a robe of righteousness. You simply can’t. Nobody can. But one can be provided for you. These wedding clothes are a reference to the prophet Isaiah, who says, “I’m overwhelmed with joy in the Lord my God, for he has dressed me with a clothing of salvation and draped me in a robe of righteousness. I’m like a bridegroom dressed for his wedding, or a bride with her jewels.”

And then we come back to this, the banquet hall was filled, good and bad alike, all appeared in their wedding clothes except one guy. Yeah, one guy. Who is this guy? If our wedding clothes are, in fact, the righteousness we receive from the king our Father, clothing we could never have provided for ourselves, then what was this guy thinking? Could he have been invited? I absolutely firmly believe he was invited. I really do. But let me qualify that: so then why does he wind up bound up and tossed out of the banquet hall into outer darkness, where nothing good happens?

Could this be another religious leader who believed that being a child of Abraham was enough? Could he have thought, “Wedding clothes nicer than what I got on? Have you checked out my robe, have you seen my prayer shawl? These tassels were braided by the finest merchants, little gold threads running through them. My phylacteries, the finest topskin leather, well-chosen bits of Moses written down on those things. How in the world is what you’re going to provide for me a lick better than what I’m already adorned in? What could be better than my righteousness?” And Jesus says very simply, just a little later in chapter 23, “What sorrow awaits you, teachers of the law and you Pharisees, hypocrites, for you’re like whitewashed tombs (beautiful on the outside, but filled on the inside with dead men’s bones and all sorts of impurity.” Okay) maybe not so righteous.

Now would be a really good time to ask yourself: what are you clothed with? Whose righteousness are you leaning on? If you’re wearing wedding clothes provided by the king, well, brother, party on. Party on. They’ve been provided for you. Nothing you could have bought for yourself, nothing of your own goodness is given to you free and clear, and that banquet is starting to smell awfully good. If not, the invitation is still placed in front of you. It’s time to shed what you think is your robe of righteousness, one you have pieced together yourself, which outwardly looks pretty impressive but on the inside is life-sucking, not life-giving, because you rely on your own goodness, and we all know how much that’s worth. When you get the invitation, send him an RSVP. Ask yourself: what will the king provide for me? Your attendance is very, very much desired.

Closing: Conflicted or Comforted?

So my question today is: were you conflicted, or were you comforted this morning? I want to say that if you’re a child of the King, confliction and conviction is a good thing, because he’s calling us to a higher level of intimacy with him. So we’re going to ask the prayer team to come up. If you’ve been convicted this morning, come up and confess it to the prayer team and they’ll walk you through that. Confession is such good for the soul. It’s humbling, but it’s good for the soul, we’re exchanging our own righteousness again for the righteousness of Christ. If you’ve been comforted this morning, we want to give thanks.

Father, thank you that your word is the truth. Thank you that sometimes it does bring conviction, because we sure don’t have it all together. We’re walking this road still in the flesh, in the kingdom now and the not yet. And Father, for those of us who have given our hearts to you, the one thing we want most in the world is to become more like you, and that means we have to get rid of more of our own desires that don’t coincide with your will. So, Father, I ask for courage this morning for those who have been convicted, that they would not hear judgment, but that they would hear, “Come and get cleaned up again,” knowing they’re in very good company. And for those who were blessed this morning, Father, we praise you for the opportunity to walk that out. Lord, we surrender to you again. Thank you that you give us our clothes of righteousness, and we’re so grateful, it’s got nothing to do with us, but it’s all you, in the powerful name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

So come on up if you want some prayer, and otherwise, have the most magnificent day.