Several Old Testament prophets used the image of a feast to portray a relationship and encounter with God. We also heard it in today’s first reading (Is 25, 6-10). And it’s a nice picture: dining with God.
Jesus often used similar images. For him, however, it was not only about words; dining was also essential in his teaching. While dining, he often talked with sinners; while eating together, he left a memory of himself. Some exegetes say [1] that if we ignored his dining, the very words he spoke while he was eating would have a completely different meaning.
Today, we heard Jesus’ story about the feast again. In it, he mentions mainly two groups of people. The first group was chosen and invited people to the royal banquet. However, they talked about it: some to their field, some to their business. If we were to use Luke’s Gospel as well, we could cite excuses such as: “I got married, so I can’t come,” “I bought oxen, I have to try them,” “I bought a field, I have to go see it.” Essentially, we could say that these people are telling the king that they do not need him. They don’t need him, his feast, or his son’s wedding.
In the words “I need – I don’t need,” I see a fundamental key to understanding current behavior. Sometimes, it is precious if we find that we do not need something: so many clothes, so much food, so many useless things. Then, it is usually the beginning of a good turn. But sometimes, the “I don’t need” attitude can signify turning away from the good. If the child says he “doesn’t need that school, ” he indicates how he will continue treating it. If a teenage child says he “doesn’t need his father’s or mother’s advice,” it suggests his parents’ paths will diverge more from his own. If someone says that they “don’t need faith,” “don’t need decency,” “don’t need honesty,” if society declares that they “don’t need old people”… these are all severe statements that indicate problems.
Let’s be glad that we live in a society where we can express ourselves this way, where no one will expel us from the community when we claim something similar. We can still live and survive, even if we don’t need other people. But at the same time, it’s good to remember that saying “I don’t need” may not be a correct assessment of the situation.
The second group of people mentioned in today’s Gospel are people invited from the Ways of the Cross, both bad and good people. This part reflects what Jesus often said about the Heavenly Father. The king in the parable ordered the servants to go to the crossroads and invite everyone. The crossroads was not just a crossroads. They were the places where the official roads of the Roman Empire ended, and all kinds of roads and paths into the country began. And so they were also places where a different society, a different group of people started. The word “periphery” is used in Greek [2], which reminds me quite a bit of Pope Francis. He often uses this word; he sees the periphery as a place where we should find our place of work – i.e., with people who, for various reasons and in multiple ways, are on edge, misunderstood, singled out, and pushed aside. So, the king in the parable invited these people from the periphery. We could see that the story talks about the bad guys first and then the good ones who came. Participating in the feast was not a reward for goodness but an excellent gift for the needs of the people. That is why it is about God, as Jesus often presented Him. God’s love is not given as a gift to the good but to all. It’s up to us what we do with it.
I will try to simplify what this parable can mean for us a little. During one mission, Richard Rohr – an American Franciscan – found indigenous people who begged God never to build houses of stone. When he asked them what such a prayer meant and why they prayed like that, he received the answer that he must know: where there are houses made of stone, there will be doors, then locks, then fences… And the natives did not want to set up their lives this way. They wanted to preserve the fact that nothing is stolen from them, that they look out for each other, that they see the needs of others… The story does not want to say that we should leave the “houses of stone” to renounce the achievements of culture. We wouldn’t be able to do it, nor would it be good. But he wants to remind us that despite all the achievements of culture, we are all one family; we are all invited to “dining with God.” “Dining with God” is also a move toward one another. God’s invitation is the opposite of those above: “I don’t need anyone.”
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