Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily for the 28th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year A) on October 15, 2023 at The Paulist Center in Boston, MA. The homily is based on the day’s readings: Isaiah 25:6-10; Psalm 23; Philippians 4:12-14, 19-20; and Matthew 22:1-14.

There are some dark verses in our gospel passage today, but by pairing it with a beloved passage from Isaiah that we often use at funerals, the Church indicates that we are supposed to focus on the theme of God’s inclusive love. I had prepared a relatively light-hearted homily for this weekend, but in light of the horrific violence continuing to unfold in the Holy Land, that no longer feels appropriate. 

I think we’ll find it difficult to concentrate on the main point of the gospel passage today, because one of the actions of the king in that story sounds horrifically similar to what is playing out in the northern end of Gaza even as we gather here. 

Let’s still try to glean some wisdom from our scriptures that can apply as we process what is happening in our world today. Even as others argue that people divided by ethnicity, nationality, and religion cannot co-exist, the gospel challenges us to understand God’s expansive invitation to the heavenly banquet. The passage from Isaiah can offer consolation as we grieve everyone who has been murdered in the past 8 days. But perhaps Paul’s words are most helpful: he speaks of being strengthened by God in every circumstance.

We pray for God’s mercy in our fractious, sinful world.

Last Saturday, Hamas committed an act of terrorism against Israeli people that is without parallel. It was brutal and horrific. It cannot be justified.

As we gather, the Israeli military is preparing for a ground invasion of Gaza to eradicate Hamas. The number of civilian casualties could be catastrophic.

[Pause.] To comment further is difficult. Even though I’ve been on 4 pilgrimages to the Holy Land on which we befriended both Israelis and Palestinians, Jews, Christians, and Muslims alike, I am still an outsider. Can anyone completely understand the complexities of a conflict involving politics, race, and religion, a conflict that has its origins thousands of years ago, before Semites and Arabs recognized themselves as ethnic groups, before the origin of Islam or Judaism as religions, before we referred to land in the Middle East as “Israel” or “Palestine”? 

[Pause.] In the United States, in used to be that polite society never mentioned issues of politics, race, or religion. But we’ve learned that silence is deadly. Things cannot get better if we ignore them. But when we speak, no matter how carefully we parse our words, we’re probably going to say something wrong. Nevertheless, Maya Angelou famously said: “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

Most of us know people who deeply identify with one side in this conflict or the other. We don’t know enough about the situation to respond to the sincere questions of our friends, asking us to agree with their assessment of the situation.

[Pause.] Another challenge in speaking about this conflict is having to choose between making absolute statements that over-simplify the situation, and making conditional statements that seem to excuse or minimize ghastly behavior. There is plenty of blame to go around on how we have gotten here… and my Muslim and Christian friends living in East Jerusalem and the West Bank say that some of the most powerful contributors are the American evangelical politicians who believe that Jesus will not return until Israel fully possesses all the land between the Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River.

With all that said, what do we do with this parable of the wedding banquet? 

This is our third of nine Sundays in a row in the Gospel of Matthew that take place between Palm Sunday and the Last Supper, when Jesus himself is most intensely inserted into this ancient conflict concerning politics, ethnicity, and religion. 

Why would anyone reject an invitation to a wedding feast? Well, I’ve turned down many wedding invitations over the years. Weddings are expensive. I may need to use my vacation time to go. In many cases, I don’t know the other guests. Why spend the time, effort, and money to socialize with them? But whenever I make the sacrifice to go to a wedding, I usually have a fantastic time. The bride and groom usually have wonderful friends and family who go out of their way to include me in the festivities. I forget that I’m an outsider.  

If the banquet of the LORD, according to Isaiah, is for all peoples from all nations, what are we to make of the person who is cast out of the wedding banquet for not wearing a wedding garment? In first-century Judaea, the royalty may have provided festive garments to the guests. If that was the case, all this person had to do was put the garment on. The lesson here, I think, is that God invites us all to the banquet, but we’ve got to take the invitation seriously. 

Can Christians cite scripture to recommend how the people in this conflict — most of whom are not Christian — should live their lives? Perhaps. The dominant image of the banquets in today’s readings is inclusiveness. Almost everyone in this conflict follows the same God. Judaism, Christianity, and Islam have teachings regarding the compassionate treatment of outsiders. Do we accept the invitation?

The Church has declared several thousand people to be saints, but we have never named a specific individual as being excluded from the heavenly banquet. If I were to hazard a guess about who might not be there, it’s probably those people who refuse to accept that God opens the banquet to all people from all nations. I am convinced that the majority of us, as well as the majority of Israelis and Palestinians, believe that God makes room for all people. Because everyone has legitimate concerns about safety and security, it’s understandable why we may hesitate to put on the wedding garment of vulnerable, unconditional love.

Which brings us back to Paul’s letter to the Philippians. After a lifetime of being on the road as a missionary, Paul rightly says that he has lived through times of both scarcity and abundance. Yet he declares, “I can do all things in [the One] who strengthens me…. My God will fully supply whatever you need.”

[Praying:] Let us pray. God, we are living in a time of chaos and distrust, both here and around the world. Strengthen us to listen to your voice. Fully supply us with the love necessary to dispel fear and hatred.

Prayers for the Holy Land, composed by Normand Gouin, Pastoral Minister of Liturgy and Music at the Paulist Center.