Twenty-Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

IMAGE IS EVERYTHING

Isaiah 45:1, 4-6; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-5B; Matthew 22:15-21 

Looking at ourselves in the mirror—it’s something most of us spend a lot of time doing. And when we take a good hard look, what do we see? Who’s shining back at us from the mirror? Depending on our mood, and how we feel, we may see aspects of ourselves we hadn’t ever noticed before. 

Our image. We spend the first half of our lives trying to figure out exactly who we are. We gaze into mirrors and carefully craft the face we want the world to see. When I was a teenager and I thought I was alone, I practiced who I wanted to be. I smiled. I frowned. I quirked my eyebrow. I flexed my muscles. I tried on a humble smirk for my victories and practiced a sneer for my defeats. And when I looked in the mirror, sometimes I swore I could see my favorite celluloid Adonis or my ripped gridiron idol. When you’re 15, image is everything.

We usually spend the second half of our lives avoiding mirrors and trying hard to forget what we look like. Catching an unexpected glimpse of an overweight or balding stranger in a revolving door, and realizing that it is you, can be one of the defining moments of middle age. Our faces become carved by paths taken and shadowed by journeys not taken. And eventually, it becomes safer to just look away. When I look in the mirror now, I swear sometimes it’s my father staring back at me. Even in your 50's, image is something.

Surprisingly enough, Jesus is trying to tell the Pharisees, that very same thing—Image is important. In fact, Jesus would say that image is everything.

It was a loaded question the Pharisees and Herodians asked Jesus. Oh, it was carefully packaged in schmooze, flattery, and even a little warm lather of praise, but it was one of those questions you’d expect to hear at a televised presidential debate—“Are you for or against taxes?” “Jesus, should we pay taxes to Rome whose army occupies our country; to a government whose soldiers press their feet on the back of our necks, bringing us down and crushing our windpipes?” And Jesus asks for a coin. On it was imprinted the image of Caesar inscribed with the words, “Divine One, and “Greatest Priest.” “It has his image — give it back to him.” And then he looks directly at them and tells them, “And repay to God what is God’s!” There wasn’t a person in the crowd who didn’t immediately think of Genesis and creation—“God created man in his image; in the divine image he created them.”

Today, Jesus is inviting us to examine the coin and then examine ourselves. Whose image does the coin bear? Whose image do we bear? While Caesar is in the business of minting coins, God is in the business of minting souls. Caesar gets his own image returned to him in taxes and tribute, but because our souls bear the diving image of God, our lives, our hearts and our talents should be “repaid” to God. For Jesus, the question isn’t “How much do you owe?”, but rather, “Who do you look like?”

What do you see when you look in the mirror? Maybe you see an image of yourself you present to the outside world. Your work or school face—one that’s cheerful, hard-working, efficient, and knowledgeable. An image that’s meant to impress and inspire confidence. Maybe it’s your party face; the jovial, witty, and welcoming image that everyone likes. Or maybe it’s your church face, the reverent, prayerful, dignified, and charitable image, one that others look up to. Or do you see your real face, the one without disguise, the one without a mask, the weary, vulnerable image you alone see whenever you come home and put aside all the other images you present to the world? What do you see when you look in the mirror? Do you ever see God staring back at you? Is any resemblance of God being reflected in the mirror? Do you look anything like God? Does His image shine back at you?

We are created in the image of the One who anoints us, gives us a title, and calls us “beloved”. We are created in the image of the One who is always with us, and we are deceived if we can look in a mirror, and see only our own face staring back. As St. Paul says in the Second Letter to the Corinthians, “Beholding, as in a mirror, the glory of the Lord, we are being transformed into the same image. FROM glory TO glory.” (2 Corinthians 3:18).

This morning Jesus holds our lives in his hand and asks, “Whose coin is this? Whose image does it bear?” And the answer is, this is God’s coin cast in God’s image. Jesus tells us then, to give that which is God’s to God. Yes, respect the state and the order it brings, be informed about community and state affairs, vote in elections, pay our taxes, obey national and local laws, support policies that help the poor and downtrodden, defend the country when outside forces threaten it. But give to God your worship, your prayers, your service and your love. Not all that you HAVE. But all that you ARE.

So the next time you look in the mirror, or catch your image reflected in a store window, remember who you look like.

Image can be everything.

Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Cycle A)

Invited and All Decked Out

Isaiah 25:6-10a; Philippians 4:12-14, 19-20; Matthew 22:1-14

There are seventeen parables in the Gospel of Matthew. If you had to choose one that was the hardest to interpret, this week's Parable of the Wedding Banquet is a good candidate. It reads somewhat like a combination of a soap opera, an episode of Joan Rivers’ “Fashion Police” and somebody's bad dream. 

Are you confused by it? Perhaps even disturbed? If so, you’re not alone. You’re in good company with those who heard Jesus speak this parable two thousand years ago. And you know what? That’s not by accident, but by design. Because with every parable, Jesus intended the hearer at some point to be jolted or shocked. The parable is meant to provoke and to incite - to arouse conversation, as well as introspection. Ultimately it should lead to action. A parable weaves together a story which is relatively believable and familiar in terms of details and customs; yet also contains within it the unbelievable - the startling. Rome didn't execute Jesus for telling feel good stories, so we shouldn't be surprised by a parable that shocks.

So in our Gospel today, we hear about a king who prepared a royal banquet for his son's wedding. This is no backyard barbecue. It’s not even like the wedding that was just held a few weeks ago in Venice between the world’s most eligible bachelor, George Clooney and Amal Alamuddin. It's the royal wedding of the king's son, akin to the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton. It was THE event of the season!

The hall is decorated. The finest meats are roasted. The most delightful vegetables are prepared to perfection. The wine has been properly aged. And the host begins pacing as the appointed hour approaches. He sends his servants out to tell the invited guests that the time has come, the feast is ready, come to his table and share in his joy, his generosity, his friendship.

Who in their right mind would turn down such an imperial invitation? But some did. Some people "refused to come." Others "paid no attention." Another group even killed the king's messengers. 

After a second round of messengers, a B-list of guests accepts the king's invitation. If the privileged people refused his generosity, then he would extend it to "all the people his servants could find." So at long last the banquet hall was full. But one guest stood out like a sore thumb. He was a wedding crasher who dressed like a slob — to the wedding party of the king's son! In the royal palace! What was he thinking?! How could anyone be so cavalier? 

So, the first part of this parable describes the rejection of an invitation, and the last part an expulsion because of presumption. The people who refused the king's invitation didn't deserve to come. The guest who showed up inappropriately dressed didn't deserve to stay. Both scenarios end badly. To those who refused his invitation, the king "sent his army and burned their city." The one who dressed inappropriately was "tied hand and foot, and thrown outside into the darkness." 

But I’m sure you’ve guessed, this story isn’t about clothes and banquets; it’s a story about seriousness and faithfulness in responding to the grace of God. It is a story not about kings and slaves and prophets and Jews. It’s a story about us, and about God’s invitation to us, and about our response to God’s gracious invitations and promises. This is a story about taking God and God’s Kingdom seriously, about not presuming upon the grace of God to the extent that we assume that God must forgive and accept us no matter what we do. It’s a story about the paradox and mystery of God’s love.

The Gospels walk a very narrow path between two large ditches. On the one side is legalism, which sets out a series of things we must do to be saved. We fall into this ditch when we insist that in order to make God love and accept us we must hold a certain form of theology or follow a particular type of worship, or practice a strict code of morality. The other ditch is antinomianism, which is theological jargon for “anything goes,” an attitude that says that no matter what we do God, being God, has to love and accept us anyway. It’s the sense of entitlement some feel simply because they have received the invitation. 

But this parable seeks to point us down the middle path between the ditches: 

INVITED! You have been invited to the Wedding Banquet of the Son of God.

INVITED! Everyone without exception has received a free invitation to the Kingdom of Heaven. It is a banquet of excess and extravagance. 

INVITED! This invitation is extended to each of us not based on who we know, what we’ve done, what our status is, or what financial success we’ve achieved.

INVITED! No legalism, no prior requirements, no price of admission.

INVITED! This invitation is extended simply out of the love, generosity and graciousness of our God. BUT - it doesn't come cheap. It asks us for everything.

INVITED! Once the invitation has been accepted, it’s expected that ones' life will be changed in response to God’s gracious gift of love.

The challenge that today’s Gospel presents us with is twofold: to watch the mail and to watch the mirror: What’s our RSVP to our King’s invitation? Are we excited about this invitation or have we delayed in our response? Do we put it off - trying to live the “good life” while we can and perhaps get more serious about this “salvation stuff” when it’s more apparent that the “good life” has run its course and the end is in sight? Or have we rejected it – brooding over past hurts, things that haven’t gone right in our lives that we’ve blamed God for; or angry at the Church over its teachings, or the behavior of some of its clergy?

Today’s gospel also challenges us to look in the mirror. What’s our wardrobe like? Do we wear a garment of grace? The fabric of faith? The cloak of compassion? The robe of righteousness? The vestments of virtue? Are we decked out in love and mercy? Do we wear the ensemble of charity, service and justice? Or do we wear the soiled and tattered rags of anger, bitterness, hatred, revenge, self-righteousness, and indifference? 

Food! Banquets! Rejoicing together! It's the stuff of a royal wedding. It’s also the stuff of the Kingdom of Heaven. In the Kingdom of Heaven, the wedding banquet is greater than we can imagine. The mystery is deeper than we can understand. The invitations go out to more people than we realize. The invitations have been written in blood, sent and delivered. The table is set. The food has been prepared. The wedding singers have rehearsed. All that’s needed is the guests. 

The favor of a reply is requested.