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The meaning of today's gospel (Matthew 11: 1-14) changes somewhat depending on whether you read the short version or the long version. Both long and short versions, however, are full of resonances for those following the path of COLW.

The parable begins with the festive invitation from a king who wants guests to join him for the wedding of his son. As Christians, we instantly recognise the meaning of this story. To recover its freshness, we ought almost to introduce it with the words, “Once upon a time”. From a COLW perspective, we hear in these words the call that goes out from the heart of the Trinity to the fallen hearts of humanity: come back to Me with all your heart. This is the plan of God who, after being rejected by our first parents, sends His only begotten Son to rescue those who are lost. The invitation is the call, the appeal of God for our return. When we speak about vocation - whether it is seen as our state in life or as our particular vocation that shapes the intimacy between God and ourselves - we are talking about how God’s plan for the world’s salvation is realised in the concrete details of our own lives.

Then, the parable shows the drama that arises from those who say ‘no’ to the invitation. God does not give up on those who say ‘no’. He continues to strive to call them in. He does not accept their refusal. He does not sign a peace accord with their rejection. He will not tolerate the fact they consign him to irrelevance. He does not even consider an alternative plan in which these guests can skip the wedding but perhaps come along to the after party. So, this is an invitation, but because it is from the king, it is also an imperative. It does more honour to its unworthy recipients then they can even begin to fathom. And, without their really understanding its implications, it exposes their priorities for what they are worth.

It is important to dwell on their reasons for saying ‘no’. The gospel says they were not interested. Rather, they were too much entangled in their own affairs and their pursuit of commerce and money. They even turned on the servants of the king, no doubt accusing them of hate speech against the legitimate pursuit of wealth. I imagine a newspaper article in the land of those who refuse the king's invitation saying something like this:

Does the king not realise the disruption that this frivolous and extravagant party will cause? Does the king not value the making of money at a time when so many of his subjects suffer from poverty? Is there any greater proof of the king’s tyranny than his anger at those who have refused the invitation? Why do we really have need of such a king?

Then comes the next act in the drama of this gospel: the invitation goes out to the waifs and strays to come to the wedding. The gospel glosses over what happens when the new invitation reaches this wider audience, but only one thing was required from any of the invitees: ‘yes’ at the crossroads, ‘yes’ in the dark places, and ‘yes’ from saints and sinners alike. Some who say ‘yes’ clearly look the part. Others who say ‘yes’ appear decidedly unsuitable. Go fetch the bad and good alike, is the king’s instruction. What matters is not where we have been, so much as what we do with the invitation that has come to us: will we say ‘yes’? Will we say ‘yes’ in every moment of our lives and fill up the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds’ worth of ‘yeses’ to the Lord who loves us? Our ‘yes’ to the Lord determines the extent to which the wedding hall will be filled with guests.

If we only hear the short version of this gospel, however, we miss an important nuance that Jesus places at the end of the parable. In the final scene, the king approaches one man who is not wearing a wedding garment and questions how he managed to get into the party. When the man does not answer, the king orders his servants to bind him hand and foot and throw him out into the darkness where there is weeping and grinding of teeth. Many are called but few are chosen, is Jesus’ alarming conclusion. What are we to think of this? I've had some appalling guests in my time, but I don't think I've ever banished them from my table in that way!

This little coda to the parable changes everything. The King's invitation had seemed like unstinting largesse but now we find it is not free of conditions. There is need for a wedding garment. In fact, the lack of a wedding garment merits ejection from the wedding feast. But did not this man say ‘yes’ to the Lord in the first place? Does his presence not show that he has put the king's priorities before his own? On the surface, it does, but something deeper down has gone wrong.

The wedding garment in this parable is evoked by the symbol of the white garment in the baptismal ceremony. Quite simply, the wedding garment is the state of grace. The wedding garment is the sign that we have put on Christ - put on Christ and have not cast him off again for anything in this world. The mistake this man has made, therefore, is that he has put a price on his own ‘yes’. He has said ‘yes’ with certain actions - after all he is at the feast - but his ‘yes’ has been partial. Either there is something he has not surrendered, or perhaps he has somehow taken back part of his ‘yes’. Our model Mary’s ‘yes’ was the perfect ‘yes’: be it done unto me, according to your word.  How much it would it have changed the meaning and value of her fiat had she said, be it done unto me, according to my word?

‘Well, does the king need to be so pedantic?’ I hear the man say. 

But there, the man would be mistaken. This invitation was no mere social convention or civil nicety. The king was not inviting him for cocktail fizz until carriages at midnight. This was not the kind of party for which he could simply dress casual.

This was an invitation to the greatest friendship and intimacy with the king himself. One wedding feast with the king was worth more than a farm, a business, and a million thrills the invitees would like to allow themselves. Even if, therefore, the man said a cheap ‘yes’ to the invitation, he has not understood the hour of his visitation.