There is a popular computer game on the market today, and chances are, even if you haven’t played it yourself, your kids or grandkids have. It’s called Minecraft and it seems to have gained somewhat of a cult following, which is surprising given the fact that the graphics are barely a step up from the games of the old arcade, 8-bit PacMan days. There’s nothing flashy about Minecraft and yet the consensus is that it’s just about the coolest thing since Legos.
Here’s how it works. A player (who is always named Steve for whatever reason) begins in a brand new world. A virgin landscape. The specifics are different for every new game, but forests, mountains, rivers, oceans, and deserts are all made available for Steve to explore and make his own. During the first day Steve has to construct torches and build a shelter in which to hide because at night zombies, skeletons, spiders, and little exploding creatures called creepers roam around. If Steve survives that first night, he can then dig deep into the earth and mine for various ores with which he will build better shelters and whatever else he can dream up.
The creative possibilities are limitless. In fact there was an exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City that was dedicated to architectural masterpieces created in Minecraft. Apparently, it’s not just the kids who are getting into this. I’ll admit, I’ve become acquainted with Steve, myself. My two boys and I have bonded over mighty adventures in this virtual world. And for me, that’s been the beautiful thing about this game: getting a chance to spend time being creative with my kids. But, there have been some unexpected hiccups in our adventures as the three Steves. Fights, virtual and real have broken out from time to time and they primarily have to do with territory and stuff.
We have been given this lush, virtual world, or kingdom, if you will, in which we can live out our virtual lives. Maybe it’s because they’re young, then again, I expect they’re tapping into something more universal here, but when some newly mined diamonds go missing, or a finely crafted shelter is mysteriously destroyed, the gloves come off. And, I’ll admit, sometimes I’m not always above the fray. Despite the fact that our shared Minecraft world is boundless, we’ll find some little block of digital land to fight a war over. Our father-son bonding is cut short. Instead of celebrating this unique kingdom some coding genius created for us, we can end up spoiling it over ego and ownership disputes! And I have a feeling Jesus might have something to say about this.
The “Parable of the Wedding Banquet,” rounds off a slew of challenging parables in Matthew’s gospel. It begins as Jesus drives out the money changers in the temple and says, famously, “My house shall be called a house of prayer, but you are making it a den of robbers!” He then goes on to heal the sick and work miracles which leads to his being questioned by the religious authorities. Jesus masterfully shoots back a couple of thinly veiled parables about vineyards, and the chief priests and elders don’t have too much trouble figuring out that Jesus’s stories are actually harsh indictments of their leadership. They don’t like it very much, but, as we know, Jesus isn’t one to quit while he’s ahead. And that’s where today’s Gospel passage comes in.
Jesus sets up a nice allegory for us. The king is God and the wedding banquet is, let’s say, the world as it should be—the Kingdom of Heaven—a celebration of this wild and wonderful life we have been given. The invitees are the Israelites, the Jews, and the religious leaders of the day. But when the king (or God) sends his servants (or prophets—think Moses, Jeremiah, Isaiah) to extend the invitations, they are rejected. The point Jesus makes here is simple and sharp. The religious leaders and their followers have been lackluster inhabitants of God’s earthly kingdom. As the gospel says, they made light of the invitation and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, apparently too busy and inwardly focused to recognize the great gift that had been given. They retreated to their individual interests, their personal claims or pursuits of power, neglecting each other and the world around them.
I want to note here that the “Parable of the Wedding Banquet” is what’s known as a Parable of Judgement, in that Jesus tends to come down pretty hard on those he’s displeased with. That bit about an enraged King burning cities probably caught your ear. This depiction of divine wrath may be a little harsh for our modern sensibilities, but it’s meant to sting a little. Jesus’ words of judgement aren’t just for the unworthy invitees in the parable but they’re really a shot across the bow to all of us. We’ve all been too busy, to driven, too obsessed with our own individual pursuits that we’ve probably waived off the King’s invitation a time or two ourselves. I know I have. And that’s when things usually run off the rails.
Like you, I have been heartbroken by the news coming out of the Middle East. I tend to avoid scanning the headlines lately, knowing that the numbers of those affected continues to rise by the hour. I do have a point of personal contact in the area that has colored my perspective. One of my classmates in the doctoral program at Virginia Seminary is now the Archbishop for the Anglican Church in Jerusalem. At the time of his study, he was the dean of the cathedral there and was focusing his degree project on the development of women in clergy leadership. As you can imagine this was an intricate project that relied on building deep trust among those he worked and interviewed. He is now, of course, consumed with relief efforts due to the conflict. Important peacetime kingdom-building projects, like the subject of his thesis, have had to take a backseat due to the actions of those who would rather tear the kingdom down.
It doesn’t seem to matter if you’re a Minecraft gamer, elders of an ancient church, or modern day inhabitants of the Holy Land. The selfish desire to stake our claim runs deep. So deep sometimes that it shakes the foundations of our institutions and relationships, and the Gospel’s image of burning cities can become a self-made reality.
So, would you like some good news? Back to our parable. When the original invitees decline, the King doesn’t toss up his hands and call off the party. In fact, he does just the opposite. Insisting that the celebration must go on, he opens the doors wide for any and all, sending his servants out to the streets to collect the “good and the bad.” God’s feast is going to happen no matter who turns down the invitation, and no matter how many times. God’s offer of peace and of reconciliation is constant. God’s offer to celebrate with us is eternal.
How might our Church, how might our world look different if we RSVP’d “yes?” to the banquet? Might we be less judgmental of others? Might we be more apt to listen rather than speak? Might we be more gentle and generous with each other, opting to share the lush vineyard instead of insisting on our claim?
Now, that’s a kingdom I want to be a part of.
Proper 23, Year A