Around the table, there is a silent “Ew.”
This is an awkward moment because the
Pharisees have a complicated relationship with the poor and
disadvantaged. The poor are poor for many reasons (not because they are lazy, corrupt or racially
inferior), and they remain so in part because the Pharisees have stacked the deck against them. Some, even, are rich because they lend to the poor, charge interest and confiscate property when payment has not been made (“Isn’t that good business?” they ask).
The poor are cut off from temple worship because of their poverty (they literally cannot afford the sacrifices). Because they are not “righteous,” they are cut off from the community and suffer socially and economically. Their debt is overwhelming, and they are driven to extremes.
God recognized the need for financial mercy when he created the Jubilee Year –a 50th year of reconciliation where all debts are wiped away and all prodigals are welcomed home. Jubilee is an extravagant grace – one which the Jews have never been able to accept or employ in full.
King Zedekiah and the nation of Judah tried to extend it when they vowed to proclaim freedom to their people and free the slaves (Jeremiah 34). Sadly (horrifically), the nation reneged and took the slaves – their fellow Jews – back into captivity.
When the people returned from exile in Babylon (Nehemiah 5), circumstances forced the poor to mortgage everything they had – including their own lives and those of their children – just to feed themselves. Nehemiah had to shame the rich and powerful – the people who prided themselves on being “righteous” – into showing mercy and providing financial relief to the poor by forgiving these dirty loans.
Is it any wonder that the crowd hates the children of the “righteous” – the Pharisees?
The poor are cut off from temple worship because of their poverty (they literally cannot afford the sacrifices). Because they are not “righteous,” they are cut off from the community and suffer socially and economically. Their debt is overwhelming, and they are driven to extremes.
God recognized the need for financial mercy when he created the Jubilee Year –a 50th year of reconciliation where all debts are wiped away and all prodigals are welcomed home. Jubilee is an extravagant grace – one which the Jews have never been able to accept or employ in full.
King Zedekiah and the nation of Judah tried to extend it when they vowed to proclaim freedom to their people and free the slaves (Jeremiah 34). Sadly (horrifically), the nation reneged and took the slaves – their fellow Jews – back into captivity.
When the people returned from exile in Babylon (Nehemiah 5), circumstances forced the poor to mortgage everything they had – including their own lives and those of their children – just to feed themselves. Nehemiah had to shame the rich and powerful – the people who prided themselves on being “righteous” – into showing mercy and providing financial relief to the poor by forgiving these dirty loans.
Is it any wonder that the crowd hates the children of the “righteous” – the Pharisees?
One of the guests steps on the moment by
raising his glass in a toast, “Don’t all lives matter? Blessed is everyone who will
eat bread in the Kingdom of God!”
But the awkward moment just won’t die (the
man has deliberately missed the point), so Jesus fills it with yet another
parable.
A man once gave a great banquet and invited
many…
This great banquet takes place within – and
is itself – the Kingdom of God. Those invited received their invitations long ago,
indeed they have already RSVP’d. But now the banquet is finally ready. It’s
time to eat! Yet those who so enthusiastically responded to the first
invitation are now scorning the second and sending their “regrets” via the man’s
servant.
The first person excuses himself and says
(with a shrug), “I’ve just bought a field, and I must go out and see it.” Only
a fool would buy land sight unseen (so maybe it’s a good thing he’s not coming
to the party). However, what the man is really saying is, “my wealth matters more
to me than my place in the Kingdom of God.”
The second person excuses himself and says
(with a sniff), “I’ve just bought five yoke of oxen, and I go to examine them.”
Only a fool would make such a large, important purchase without first examining
the animals for their health and hardiness. However, what the man is really
saying is, “my business matters more to me than my place in the Kingdom of God.”
The last person doesn’t even apologies, he
just says (with a wink), “I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come.”
While the first two men are willing to be seen as fools for their excuses, this
one is willing to be seen as a liar as it is very doubtful that anyone would
get married at the same time as someone else in the village was throwing a big
banquet. However, what the man is really saying is, “my personal life matters more to me than my place in the Kingdom of God.”
In Middle Eastern culture, this is the
height of rudeness. In fact, it sends a very clear social message: we don’t
want to have anything to do with you.
The banquet host, righteously incensed,
tells his servant to bring in the poor, crippled, blind and lame (which he
does). The needy have been brought in, but there’s still room (turns out there
weren’t that many after all and there’s plenty of stuff to go around). So the
host now tells the servant to search out the poor, go through the back alleys,
the shantytowns under the highway overpasses, Lower Wacker Drive – compel these
people to come to the banquet so that the master’s house may be filled.
And the others? Fools and liars, they have
made their choice and their invitations have been withdrawn. It doesn’t matter. There’s no room anyway. The master’s house is filled – and that’s what matters most.
