The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet (Matthew 22:8)

When I was a wee boy I was going to have a birthday party. At least, I’d got that into my head. My Mum knew nothing about it. That didn’t stop me inviting folk. I remember sitting on a wall and inviting anyone and everyone who looked like they might be under the age of about 15 to my birthday party. The first my Mum knew about it was when this horde of kids turned up in our back garden to attend my non-existent birthday party. She sent them all away - all but one. My friend Mark had put on his best, smart party clothes and had come supplied with a birthday present and my Mum didn’t have the heart to send him away, so he stayed for tea.

The parable in Matthew tends to remind me of that: though there are some important differences. One thing that is similar, though, is the indiscriminatory nature of the invitation. The king sends his servants out into the streets to invite anyone and everyone they meet - good and bad, you’ll notice - to the wedding feast. 

In the context of Matthew’s gospel we generally think that the indiscriminatory nature of the invitation has something to do with opening the Gospel to the non-Jewish world. There was a strain in Judaism that thought that the promises of God were only for the Jewish people; for the descendants of Abraham. They were the chosen people. In the parable they are represented by the folk who were invited but who did not come for all sorts of not very important reasons. Those who made light of the invitation - possibly because they thought that it was only their due as the landed gentry of the kingdom; as the great and the good.

When Matthew was writing his gospel Jewish Christians were struggling to come to terms with the promise of God now being open to the Gentile world - to Greeks and Romans and all sorts of other folk; despite passages in their scriptures like the one from Isaiah that speaks of God setting out a feast for all peoples on Mount Zion. But all that was 2000 years ago. What of today?

See, the temptation to limit the promise, the invitation, of God to a small selected few is always there. Down the centuries Christians have been often all to ready to pitch people into eternal damnation if they didn’t fit into our preconceptions of the kind of people that God would accept into his heaven. Without mentioning any names - No!, let’s mention the Westboro’ Baptist Church in the United States - there have been too many Christians who have been way too determined that it is only the great and the good; only those and such as those that God would welcome into eternal life. There have been too many Christians who have made their own views of what a Christian life is a template for those that God embraces and invites. Sometimes quite absurdly. A couple of years ago my son - a big fan of heavy rock music - was walking down, I think it was Buchanan Street in Glasgow. There were street preachers at work and they noticed the t-shirt he was wearing and told him that God hated heavy rock music and that he was destined for Hell. Seriously. I can only hope God hasn’t been looking at my iTunes playlists.

“Go out into the streets and invite everyone you meet”. The invitation of God, the promise of God is not simply for a select few; it’s not just for the great and the good; it’s not just for those and such as those. It’s for anyone and everyone. It’s for you and it’s for me. It’s for the good and the bad. It’s for the rich and for the poor. It’s for the weak and for the powerful. It’s for black and white and young and old. It’s for those who’ve led a sheltered life and for those who’ve messed up their lives so badly that they’ve wound up in the darkest of places. It’s not for a select few - it’s for everyone.

That’s what the Gospel is all about. Through the Cross of Christ it doesn’t matter whether you’re “good” or “bad” - whatever your flaws, whatever your weaknesses, whatever mistakes you’ve made in your life, whatever dark paths you’ve walked - all that can be washed away and the invitation of God goes out to you. In the shadow of the Cross all the differences that divide us are set at nought. Whatever your race or background; whatever your culture or language; whatever your status and standing in life - none of that matters in the shadow of the Cross and the invitation of God goes out to you.

But we should not take that for granted. We should not be blasé about it. We should not, simply because it is offered freely, treat it as having no value. The parable has the king spotting one at the wedding who had not put on a wedding robe - that always reminds me of my friend Mark; someone who had not made an effort. For a while this bit of the parable caused me some bother; partly because folk told me this was why I should put on a suit to go to church. Really?

No. Jesus was smarter than that. There’s a line in a hymn: “Let holy charity mine outward vesture be”. Our outward vesture - our robe, if you like - is what people see when they look at us? When people look at us do they get some idea of what Heaven, what the love of God, is about?

When people look at us do they see justice? Do they see people determined to stand up for what is right? Do they see people who are prepared to stand with the marginalised and the outcast and the forgotten in our society? Do they see people prepared to speak for those who have no voice; to challenge the privileges of the wealthy and the powerful when they tread on the poor and the weak? You don’t need to be gifted and special to do that. You don’t have to be the great or the good. You can do it. I can do it. Anyone can do it. We can all put on the robe of justice.

When people look at us do they see grace? Do they see people who can let go of the past and of the hurts that have been inflicted on us and forgive those who have hurt us? Do they see people who understand that everyone makes mistakes and that we all, sometimes, need someone to free us from the guilt we bear for those mistakes? You don’t have to be especially smart to do that. You don’t need any special insight or wisdom. Anyone can do it. We can all put on the robe of grace.

When people look at us do they see compassion? Do they see people who care when they are hurting; who care when they’re in pain - however different they may seem to be from us and however strange their circumstances may be from ours. Do they see people who care about them? You don’t need to be one of a select few to do that. That doesn’t mark you out as one of a ‘chosen people’. It marks you out as properly human. Anyone can do it. We can all put on the robe of love.

So let’s get ready for the party. Let’s accept the invitation that goes out to everyone because anyone can accept it. Let’s get ready for the party and  put on the robe God offers to us - a robe that shows justice to a world that often knows brutality; a a robe that shows grace to a world that is soften harshly unforgiving; a robe that shows love to a world that is too often selfish. Let us put on the robe that God offers us - the robe we will wear into eternity.

Lord, may we make ourselves ready for your Heaven. May we clothes ourselves in love - in the love that you have poured out on us - and live in the world as if we were already living in the Kingdom of Love

Preached at Gretna: St Andrew’s and at Gretna Old parish churches