Homily for 28th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Homily for the
28th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Oct. 15, 2023
Matt 22: 1-14
Villa Maria, Bronx
St. Francis Xavier, Bronx

“The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who gave a wedding feast for his son” (Matt 22: 1).

(by Frans Francken the Younger)

Heaven—eternal life in the mansions of God—is often compared to a great banquet.  The 1st reading uses such imagery (Is 25:6-10).  Our responsorial psalm, Ps 23, depicts sheep grazing in green pastures beside restful waters under a shepherd’s loving care.  In our communion rite we allude to a verse from the book of Revelation:  “Blessed are those who have been called to the wedding feast of the Lamb” (19:9).

That’s the wedding feast of Jesus’ parable:  the king of heaven is preparing it for his only-begotten Son.

The parable as we have it reflects the 1st-century experience of St. Matthew’s community.  Many of those whom Jesus 1st invited to the feast—as well as the next couple of generations—spurned their invitation and persecuted the king’s servants.  Consequently, Matthew implies, their city (Jerusalem) was leveled by violent conquest and fire.

But God in his abundant mercy extended his invitation to the wedding feast, to people everywhere on the streets and highways of imperial Rome, and beyond.  Some of the apostles evangelized Armenia, Persia, India, and Ethiopia.  And God’s house has been filled with “bad and good alike” (22:10), with sinners and saints, as it still is; including us.

So this parable, like others we’ve heard on recent Sundays, is a parable of conversion, of divine mercy, and of divine judgment.

Jesus—or St. Matthew—attached a 2d little parable to the main one about the wedding feast.  The king finds a fellow in the banquet hall “not dressed in a wedding garment” (22:11).  It seems we’re to suppose that he could have put on the garment but chose not to.

In the earliest years of the Church, at the Easter Vigil catechumens would strip before descending into the baptismal pool, and when they came out they’d be clothed in gleaming white garments, which they’d wear for the whole week between Easter and the following Sunday, which was known as dominica in albis, White Sunday.  Only then would they resume their ordinary dress.  The rite of Baptism still includes a symbolic clothing in white—usually a pathetic bib—and the instruction:  “You have become a new creation, and have clothed yourself in Christ. See in this white garment the outward sign of your Christian dignity. … bring that dignity unstained into the everlasting life of heaven.”

We all did something similar when we were first invested in our religious garb.  In our Salesian practice back in the day, Paul’s words to the Ephesians were quoted:  “Put away the old self of your former way of life … and put on the new self, created in God’s way in righteousness and holiness of truth” (4:24).

Whether at Baptism or at religious investiture, the garment is weighted with spiritual meaning.

Do you read the funnies?  They’re the best part of the newspaper, and too often the only part that might make us smile.  Back in August,* the strip Curtis had the youngster getting a haircut from his barber pal Gunther.  Gunther tells the boy, thru 4 panels:  “I met someone on ‘Forty and Up Single and Ready to Mingle,’ but I don’t think we’re compatible.  She attends church every single Sunday, rain or shine.  But Monday through Saturday she’s mean, judgmental and nasty to others!  She’s a part-time Christian.”

Coming to the wedding feast of the Lamb is a commitment.  Just being baptized isn’t enuf.  Just “accepting Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior” isn’t enuf.  Being a part-time Christian isn’t enuf.  We have to put on and keep on the white garment of Christian dignity.  We have to be Christian 7 days a week.  We have to be clothed in God’s grace, which means living in that grace.  In the collect we prayed that grace would enable us to carry out good works, i.e., to live in grace.  We need to be constantly re-converted to Christ by repentance and restarting our discipleship.  A refrain in St. John XXIII’s spiritual diary Journal of a Soul is nunc coepi—“now I begin,” i.e., after examining my life, I need to start over again.  It was also a motto of Ven. Bruno Lanteri (founder of the Oblates of the Virgin Mary), St. Josemaria Escrivá (founder of Opus Dei), and other saints; and even of retired NFL quarterback Philip Rivers, who applies it not only to football but also to his Catholic faith and family life.

And that, brothers and sisters, is why the Lord has given us the sacrament of Reconciliation:  to wash the mud off our garments and make a fresh start of following Jesus.

In Jesus’ parable, the fellow without a proper garment is “cast into the outer darkness to wail and gnash his teeth” (22:13).  We need the garment of repentance and faithful pursuit of holiness if we want a seat at the wedding feast of the Lord.

* August 16.