This Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time gathers its readings around a single table that God has already set for every person. We know how readily an invitation received becomes an invitation postponed, and how easily we sit at a feast while keeping our hearts at the door. The readings lead us in three steps: a mountain, a letter, and a wedding hall.
And responding, Jesus again spoke to them in parables, saying: "The kingdom of heaven is like a man who was king, who celebrated a wedding for his son. And he sent his servants to call those who were invited to the wedding. But they were not willing to come. Again, he sent other servants, saying, 'Tell the invited: Behold, I have prepared my meal. My bulls and fatlings have been killed, and all is ready. Come to the wedding.' But they ignored this and they went away: one to his country estate, and another to his business. Yet truly, the rest took hold of his servants and, having treated them with contempt, killed them. But when the king heard this, he was angry. And sending out his armies, he destroyed those murderers, and he burned their city. Then he said to his servants: 'The wedding, indeed, has been prepared. But those who were invited were not worthy. Therefore, go out to the ways, and call whomever you will find to the wedding.' And his servants, departing into the ways, gathered all those whom they found, bad and good, and the wedding was filled with guests. Then the king entered to see the guests. And he saw a man there who was not clothed in a wedding garment. And he said to him, 'Friend, how is it that you have entered here without having a wedding garment?' But he was dumbstruck. Then the king said to the ministers: 'Bind his hands and feet, and cast him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. For many are called, but few are chosen.' " (Mt 22:1-14)
The first reading, from Isaiah, the prophet of Jerusalem, lifts our eyes to a mountain where the Lord of hosts prepares for all peoples what the prophet calls "a fatness full of marrow, a purified wine" (Is 25:6). The table is not reserved for a few who deserve it, but spread for the nations, and the host alone does the work. He pours the wine, he sets the meat, and he opens the doors. Before any guest has spoken, the feast already exists as a gift.
But the prophet shows that this feast does something before it feeds anyone. God tears away the veil that hangs over every person, and Isaiah names what that veil covers: "the Lord God will take away the tears from every face," says the prophet. The meal is therefore not a reward given after the grief, but a tenderness given inside it. Where a people has long mourned, God does not first ask for an explanation; he first dries the face.
The second reading carries the same table into a prison cell. Saint Paul, the apostle of the nations, writes to the Philippians, a community in Macedonia that has sent him help, and he confesses what hunger and plenty have taught him: "I know how to be humbled, and I know how to abound" (Ph 4:12). He is not boasting of a strong will. He is saying that his fullness and his emptiness spring from one source, because he can do everything in the One who strengthens him, and that same source will supply every need of the Philippians.
The Gospel according to Saint Matthew, the evangelist who writes for a Church of Jews and pagans, then lets the table fill. A king prepares a wedding for his son, and the servants announce that "all is ready" (Mt 22:4). The first guests are not hostile at the start, only busy, one with his farm and another with his business, until the rest turn violent. So the king sends his servants to the main roads, and they gather all they find, bad and good, until the hall is full.
The parable could end here, with a hall filled from the crossroads and a feast rescued from its refusals. But the Lord goes on, and the king walks among the guests until he sees a man who is not dressed in a wedding garment. He speaks gently to him: "Friend, how is it that you have entered here without having a wedding garment?" (Mt 22:12). The man stays silent, and his silence is the whole of his reply. God has lifted the veil from every face, but this guest has not let the feast clothe him. Hence the closing word, "many are called, but few are chosen", which does not set a quota but names an answer: the call goes to all, and the garment is how we reply.
What we are speaks louder than what we say: the missionaries who take their name from Bethlehem made this their rule when occupation or violence left them with no ministry to perform, and they simply stayed among the people. Their presence was the only garment they had left to wear. A wedding garment belongs to the same order, since a life wears it and a tongue cannot recite it. The silent guest shows how little a sentence can do when no life stands behind it.
Today the Word of God invites us to receive the feast as a gift and to let it clothe us in the places where we truly live: our families, our parishes, and our places of work. The veil has already been lifted from every face. What remains is the garment, which is received not by arguing about it but by wearing it.
Let us therefore come to the table as we are, and let us stay long enough for the table to change us. The hand that wipes every tear also holds out the garment to anyone who stops pretending to need none. A feast already prepared waits only for a guest who has put on its garment.
Scripture text: Catholic Public Domain Version (CPDV), public domain.
Prayer of the Day
Lord Jesus, born poor in Bethlehem and now calling us to the Father's table, you wipe the tears from every face and prepare a feast for all peoples. Keep us from coming to your banquet with a silent heart and an unchanged life. Clothe us with your own garment, teach us to abound and to be humbled in you, and let our presence tell our neighbours they are invited. Amen.
For Meditation
- Where have we accepted the invitation of God while keeping our lives unchanged by it?
- Which tears has God already wiped from our faces, and whom are we called to invite from the roads?
- What would it mean for us to answer the call, today, with a life rather than a sentence?
