It’s God’s Wedding Feast

Maybe it was a mistake to use the First Nation’s translations for today’s texts.

It seemed like a good idea since we are commemorating Indigenous Peoples’ Day.

But the language is already a little off from what we are used to.

Throw in the fact that the gospel is another parable and we’ve got a bit of a conundrum.

We have a story that is meant to be layered and confusing.

A story that is difficult to discern meaning from without first-century Jewish context.

And then we throw this curve ball of hearing the parable through an indigenous filter.

So, I apologize for that.

We’ll do the best we can with it.

Jesus says the Creator’s good road from above—what we would normally call the Kin-dom—is like a chief who gives a wedding feast for his son.

The messengers go out but the invited guests refuse to come.

So, the chief sends out more messengers.

Some are ignored.

Others are mistreated or even killed.

So, the chief sends more messengers: “invite all you find to come to the feast”.

And suddenly the lodge is filled with people—both honorable and bad-hearted.

Good people and bad people.

Everyone was invited.

And then comes the twist: one man is found without the proper regalia, and he is bound and thrown outside into the darkness.

Jesus says, “many are invited, but few accept his invitation.”

And that, my friends, is the crux of the matter: who decides who belongs at the feast?

It’s an interesting question to ponder, particularly when we look at the history of Indigenous peoples.

Long before Europeans arrived on this continent, Indigenous nations were already here.

They had their own governments, cultures, languages, communities, spiritual traditions, and relationships with the land.

They did not need to be invited to this country.

They were already here.

It was already their home.

And yet the history that followed included stealing Indigenous lands, broken treaties, forced removals, violence, and the destruction of Indigenous cultures.

Children were taken from their families and sent to boarding schools.

Their hair was cut.

They were forbidden to speak their language or practice their traditions.

Those that did not comply were beaten.

Some were beaten to death.

Captain Richard Henry Pratt, founder of the infamous Carlisle Indian Industrial School, said "Kill the Indian in him, and save the man".

It defined the white European settlers view of indigenous people.

You can have a place at our table—but only if you become like us.

That is not the feast that Jesus invites us to.

Our place at God's table comes from grace.

We can't purchase it.

We all know we don't deserve it.

Yet God welcomes us as invited guests.

God feeds us—with bread and wine.

None of us own the table.

None of us gets to decide who is worthy of God's welcome.

The feast belongs to God.

That sounds like it should be obvious.

But we humans have a remarkable tendency to turn God's gifts into possessions.

We take grace and turn it into privilege.

We take land and turn it into property.

We take God's invitation and turn it into membership.

We take the Gospel and turn it into a boundary:

We belong.

They don't.

And it didn’t end with indigenous people, did it?

We have used the same arrogance to exclude people of color, immigrants, and LGBTQ+ folks.

Subverting God’s message of radical welcome to exclude is sinful.

It’s sinful when we trust ourselves more than God.

When we protect ourselves, elevate ourselves, and place ourselves at the center.

We have a long history of sanctifying that self-interest, almost to the level of idolatry.

We call our conquest “civilization.”

We call our domination “stewardship.”

We call assimilation “mission.”

We call exclusion “order.”

But the Gospel demands that we tell the truth.

God's grace is bigger than our sin.

The Gospel demands that we not deny the past.

God’s grace frees us to tell the truth about what has happened.

Indigenous peoples are not people who were here.

They are people who are here.

The same goes for people of color, immigrants, and LGBTQ+ folks.

They are our neighbors.

They are living communities with living cultures, languages, traditions, and wisdom.

And our response as Christians must be repentance.

We must turn away from white supremacy.

We must listen to those we have ignored.

We must learn the true histories that have been white-washed.

We must acknowledge harm, rather than defending our actions or those of our ancestors.

We must ask what justice and reconciliation demand of us now.

And that brings us back to the wedding feast.

Creator’s good road from above is not a place where everyone has to become the same.

It is a place where God's grace not only makes room for diversity but even celebrates it.

That matters because too often our idea of inclusion is:

“You can come in—as long as you become like us.”

But Jesus invites us to a different vision:

Come as you are.

Speak your language.

Bring your history.

Share your culture and your traditions.

Bring your wounds—and also your wisdom.

God's wedding feast does not erase difference.

It makes room for it.

Our greatest challenge in understanding the wedding feast is that it is not about getting more people into the lodge.

It is about giving up our arrogance in assuming that we are the hosts.

We are not the hosts.

God is.

The land is God's.

The table is God's.

The abundance is God's.

And every person sitting at that table is a beloved child of God.

Called by name.

And claimed as God’s own.

Which means our calling is not to decide who deserves a place.

Our calling is to become faithful guests.

Guests who understand we are only there because of God’s grace.

And, because of that, we must be guests who repent.

Guests who tell the truth.

Guests who listen.

Guests who share.

And, above all, guests who make room for others.

Because that is the Gospel.

We don't earn our place at God's table.

And because Jesus has already extended us that grace, we are free to extend it to others.

So perhaps the question that the parable is meant for us to ponder is not:

“Am I one of the chosen?”

Perhaps the better question is:

“Am I grateful enough for God’s gift of grace to be able to make room for everyone?”

May God give us the courage to tell the truth.

The humility to listen.

The grace to repent.

And the faith to make room.

Because the feast is God's.

And there is more than enough room in the lodge for everyone.

May this meditation on God’s word keep our hearts and minds on Christ Jesus. Amen.