Homily

Growing up I never really understood this parable, because I didn't really see why turning down an invitation to a banquet was such a big deal. Oh yes, very nice I suppose, to get to attend a fine feast; but if these people didn't want to go, then why should they go, and why should the host be so upset? And besides, they all had good reasons, didn't they? Surely the host didn't want to force people to attend his great dinner, did he?

But there was always one part of the parable that I did not pay attention to because it’s not obvious to modern Americans. This was not a simple story about people declining an invitation to a banquet. They had already agreed to attend. Notice the Gospel says, "He sent his servant at suppertime to tell those invited to come, for everything was ready." This was not the first invitation, but, as was the custom in those days, this was the second invitation given to those who had already agreed to attend the banquet. It was only a verbal dinner bell in a time and a place where people didn't have watches or clocks, nor did they have the precision of microwave and convection oven cooking. Even more than that, the custom of sending someone to tell the dinner guests that all was ready showed how much the host wanted the guests to come. And even more than that, to have been invited to such an event as a fine dinner was seen as an act of great friendship and a mark of the personal relationship between the host and his guests.

So now it's easier to see why the master became angry when his servant returned. These people, who he thought were his friends, are now telling him they have changed their minds and they won't be coming after all. Why are they not coming? Is it because of a death in the family and they are in mourning? Is it because they are very sick and too weak to travel? Is it because their house burned down and they have nowhere to live, or they have been attacked by a gang of thieves? They don't refuse to attend the feast on account of some tragedy or sad circumstance. Quite the opposite: buying land, purchasing an expensive number of oxen, and being recently married are all positive events that show the good positions that the guests are in. One would think they'd be glad to share their good fortune with the host and celebrate with him their happy situations.

But let's think about this. You can't come to the party you said that you would attend because you have to check out the land you just bought? Will that land somehow change by tomorrow and that's why you have to go and inspect it right now? Will your cattle run off so you have to see them today before they escape? Did you marry a 90-year-old woman, and you're not sure how much longer she has and so you'd better make the most of it while she's still breathing? And he didn't know he was getting married when he first accepted the invitation?

These guests, who should have been honored by being invited, show what they think of their host. They are so much more concerned with their own property and their business that they brush off their host and their relationship with him so that they can focus on their own affairs. Many years ago I was always stuck on the host's reaction: he grew angry. Well, you know, they can't come. Why be so angry? I never could see it from the master's perspective. I never stopped to think much about the type of excuses that were given. I never realized what an insult it was to the master of the household to tell him, in effect, I'd rather spend time with my oxen today than to sit at the table with you.

And, as the feast of Christmas is drawing closer, this parable again makes me think. That feast represents in a special way, the great feast I am called to every day. The invitation to sit at the banquet table with the Lord. To spend time in His presence, to listen to His words, to ask His help, to tell Him of my good news and my bad news, to thank Him for so many helps and blessings received, and, sitting in His presence, to grow closer to Him in heart, mind, and soul.

But how easy it is to skip that invitation to sit with Him, because I have good things to do, and people to see, and stuff needs taken care of; and I'm distracted by this thing because it's shiny, and that thing because it's new, and those things because they bring temporary pleasure, and these things because they numb the boredom I can feel in my life, a boredom that comes not from a lack of activities but the boredom that comes from a lack of liveliness in myself, in ourselves.

It's not just a question of oxen or Jesus, land or Jesus, spouse or Jesus. We can find our own excuses for staying away from prayer and from worship, and they seem good enough to us, if we don't think about them very clearly or objectively. "What if I go and Jesus serves black olives? I don't like black olives. What if I go and He sees my baptismal robe is pretty dirty and ragged from years of abuse? What if the dinner lasts past 8:00 and I miss the rerun of the 'Best of The Bachelor, Seasons 1 and 2'?"

If we are too much involved in too many things, both physical and mental projects and thoughts, and keeping ourselves busy with a whole lot of stuff we can find it all too easy to neglect the Lord's invitation, and even when we do accept it, we can get so restless many times, distracted and even a little anxious and ready to get back to the "normal things” of life. Because even though my faith tells me that the center and source of my life is sitting for my benefit at the banquet table waiting for me, waiting for us, we can find it strangely difficult to just sit and eat whatever He places before us, even though we know it will only be for our good. Jesus will never serve us something that would cause us harm. He only offers what will be truly good for us.

Dear Lord, please wear me down, please wear us down, get our attention so that we truly want to take time and sit with You, at your table, in peace. And then after spending that time with You, help us to walk away satisfied that You have given us our daily bread.