So as you probably know by now, we’re in the midst of a special season in the church year. No, it’s not Christmas or Easter or Advent or Lent. It is rather the fundraising season!
There are many reasons why we members of St. John’s give our money to this parish. Probably we each have our own reasons. But speaking as your vicar, I hope that part of the reason we give to a community like St. John’s has something to do with today’s gospel. Let me explain.
I’m pretty sure this gospel is not about what we think it is about.
There's the old story of the pastor giving a children's sermon, where every week the children anticipate him making a new point about Jesus. This particular week he begins by holding up a stuffed squirrel and asking, "Boys and girls, do you know what this is?" Silence. The pastor asks again. Silence. Finally, one little boy is bold enough to shyly raise his hand and offer, "Gee, I know I'm supposed to say Jesus, but it sure looks like a squirrel to me."
If you’ve heard this morning’s gospel passage before, then something like that was probably happening in your own mind as you heard it again. Jesus, in his parables, often uses kings or lords as symbols for God. So as soon as he begins, "The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king...," we immediately think this king is a metaphor for God.
But watch what happens: The king Jesus describes here is a cruel tyrant, flat out. This cruel king invites some folks to a wedding banquet; when they refuse, he blows them all away, sends soldiers who kill them all and burn their city. When the folks who are left alive in his kingdom hear what this king does to people who turn him down, is it any wonder the banquet hall is filled the second time around? Knowing what he did to the last invitees, would you turn him down?
The first people to hear this gospel story would have easily recognized who Jesus is talking about here. He’s retelling a well-known story, still fresh in everyone’s memory, about how King Herod took over Jerusalem.
You remember Herod, the king who slaughtered all the innocent children when he heard of Jesus’ birth, the one who later beheaded John the Baptist. Herod was a cruel tyrant.
Jesus is here retelling the story of how Herod had taken over Jerusalem. This had involved his joining his family with the ruling Jewish family in Jerusalem. Herod had invited the Jewish leaders and their followers to ratify the joining of these two powers. But they did not like him, they knew he was a cruel tyrant, so they refused. Because they refused, Herod attacked the city, burned much of it to the ground, slaughtered people left and right. Those who survived were brought under his rule by force, as virtual prisoners in their own city.
Today’s gospel is a retelling of that brutal story. Like Herod, the king in Jesus’ story first tries to win over the people by invitation. When they refuse the invitation, he slaughters them and burns the city. Those left alive are then brought into the marriage celebration by an offer they cannot refuse, by force.
But in his retelling of that brutal story Jesus adds a new twist. In his telling, one person refuses to go along with the program, refuses to dance and sing at the king’s wedding, refuses to wear a wedding garment. This man stands there defiant. When the king challenges him for not wearing the wedding garment, the man remains silent. The king then binds him hand and foot, and casts him out into the darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Some scripture scholars say that when Jesus describes this man without the wedding garment, he’s referring to himself. Jesus himself is the one who defies the Herods of this world, stands silent before those who accuse him of treason, offers a different way of living--the way of nonviolence, of forgiving even of one’s enemies, the way of love. As a result he is cast out and killed. This is what the kingdom of heaven looks like when it stands against Herod.
We have two competing worldviews here: that of Herod and that of Jesus. And in today’s gospel we’re invited to choose between them.
The fact is, we’re very familiar with the reign of Herod.
- In Herod’s reign, a young gay man Matthew Shepard, the anniversary of whose death we remember today, gets tied to a lonely fence post, severely beaten, and left to die
- In Herod’s reign, a young African American man in Ferguson, Michael Brown, is gunned down by police when he’s on his knees with his hands in the air.
- In Herod’s reign, immigrant families like Ameli and Nicole whom we met last Sunday are torn apart by unjust laws.
This gospel passage puts the reign of Herod on display and invites us to choose between that reign and the reign of Jesus.
I like to think that here at St. John’s we choose the reign of Jesus, we create a space very different from the reign of Herod. In our best moments:
- Members of this parish have tutored young people from this neighborhood, many of them fugitives from Central America in the 70s and 80s, to make sure they could finish high school and go on to college. The reign of Jesus.
- Later, this parish became a home and a sanctuary to many gay men afflicted with HIV and ostracized from their families and churches. Many of them are now buried here in our garden. The reign of Jesus.
We still do this.
- Every Saturday morning this space is hopping as the Julian Pantry distributes food to people from our neighborhood and City. The reign of Jesus.
- Every Wednesday evening, proud young Native Americans gather here for a healing circle, make their beautiful native costumes, practice their powerful ancient dances. We provide this space to them. The reign of Jesus.
- Twice each month a joyful evening of free food and entertainment is shared by people from our neighborhood and City. The reign of Jesus.
- Last week, as I mentioned, we welcomed Ameli and Nicole, a mother and daughter, both immigrants who fled Guatemala for their lives. Ricardo, Ameli’s husband, is about to be unjustly deported to Guatemala where his life will once again be in danger. His wife and daughter came here to tell their story. We gave them our prayers and some money to fly to see Ricardo one last time before he is deported. They have been living under the cruel reign of Herod. But last Sunday, we showed them a different reign, the reign of Jesus.
Sometimes this happens in ways we’re not even aware of. A few Sundays ago, while I was getting ready for Mass, I saw a young man sitting quietly at the back of the church. I told him, “Hi, my name is Richard,” and told him was glad he could join us. He paused for a moment, then said very emphatically, “I am Will.” We chatted for a few moments, then I ran off to finish getting ready for Mass.
I saw Will a few more times in the following weeks, briefly saying hello each time. Then last Sunday he came up to me during coffee hour just as he was leaving. He said, “I just want you to know that I’ve been coming here while in town on a work assignment. That assignment is about to end, so I don’t know if I’ll be back again. But I want you to know before I go that this is the first place I’ve ever introduced myself as Will.”
Will is a transgendered male from another part of the country where people like him are neither understood nor welcome. While he was here at St. John’s, he looked around, saw who we are and how we are with each other. And, for the first time in his life, he felt safe enough to cross the threshold and introduce himself as Will. It’s what people do in the reign of Jesus.
In different ways we create a space very different from the reign of Herod. But most especially it happens week after week around this table as we gather--from university professors to street people; from beautiful toddlers and their parents to those of us in extreme middle age; from Filipinos and African-Americans to Caucasians and Latinos--all of us together, gathered around this table to tell the ancient stories of our spiritual ancestors, make Jesus present, and break the bread.
There are many reasons why we reach deep into our pockets to contribute our hard-earned cash to this community, and we each have our own reasons.
But ultimately it’s because we know that the alternative reign that Jesus invites us into is not some airy vision detached from the very real world in which we live. It is flesh and blood, brick and mortar. That kingdom happens in time and space. It happens right here, in this space, day after day, week after week.
And we want to be part of it, and we want it to be here for others as well. And so we contribute our money, to continue to make the reign of Jesus happen here, to make it real right here.
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