This week, we hear from the Gospel of Matthew (chapter 22) and the story of the wedding feast. Remember? They had a big party, killed the fattened cattle, set the table, and…
No one came.
We are told that some ignored the invitation, some laid hold of the ones giving the invitation and “mistreated them, and killed them.” Honest to God, who does that? It’s like attacking the guy who delivers your Amazon package.
The king, of course, is not much better. He sends his troop and burns the city. Yikes. Revenge much?
Finally, the king realizes the food is getting cold and sends his people to “go out, therefore, into the main roads and invite to the feast whomever you find.” The hall was filled with, as Pope Francis says, those on the peripheries.
Let’s pause here for a moment. Let’s not go into the last part of the story, where the king throws out the guy who is underdressed. Let’s forgo the conversation about what the heck is wrong with the king.
Last week, a friend sent a song to me, compliments of YouTube that she remembered from her days in the folk group back in the seventies. It’s called, “I Cannot Come” and, really, it’s just awful in a hilarious way. Search for it. Just Google “I cannot come to the banquet song” and enjoy. It’s a bit of an earworm, so you’ll be humming the silly song the rest of the day.
But I thought of that song as I was looking at the readings for the week. The refrain started playing in my head again and again:
I cannot come to the banquet,
Don’t trouble me now.
I have married a wife,
I have bought me a cow.
I have fields and commitments
That cost a pretty some,
Pray, hold me excused,
I cannot come.
It seems that each day we are invited into the lives of others – a cashier, a coworker, a stranger at the stop light, the guy on the corner with a sign, a sibling, a child, or a spouse. The invitation to come to the banquet is right there in front of us. Will we shy away from doing what is right and good and holy and just or will be ask to be excused because we are too deep into our thoughts and jobs and commitments and emails and Zoom calls to worry that much about someone else.
Yes, the song is silly by today’s standards. But the question it asks – the same question the writers of Matthew’s Gospel ask – are still out there.
When God invites, what’s our response?