How you get to the Party

The Cathedral Church of the Nativity

Sermon: Sunday October 15^th, 2017

The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa

How do you get to the Party

Some years ago a middle aged man was invited to a party. It was a big number birthday for a person he knew. What he remembered about parties this person would throw, and this party specifically  is that many didn’t want to go, in truth, he probably could be counted among them. In fact often when an invitation would come, the middle aged man killed the invitation immediately, by tearing it up and throwing it away before his wife would see it.  The man thought to himself, I can’t go to that party because,

a. I have other things to do, important things.

b. These parties are notorious for having all kinds of people there. This host is notorious for inviting just about anybody he saw.

c.  Sometimes these parties got, well, raucous. Not unseemly mind you, but vibrant, a little loud, sometimes a little extravagant. “I sometimes feel out of place amidst all of that, not sure if I fit in.”

Well, party day came, and the middle aged man’s spouse of course learned of the party, not by the invitation the man had killed by tearing and throwing it in the garbage, but by other friends. After a long and fervent dialogue, the two dressed and went to the party.

And it was extravagant, and it was loud, and it was full of all sorts and conditions of people, and people the middle aged man just wouldn’t otherwise ever had associated with, but they were all there and having a good time, but the middle aged man still wasn’t sure and feeling a bit out of place. And then, the music stopped.

The host of the party called everyone’s attention, reached for a box, and then one by one, to his guests, he by name delivered to them a small, but precious gift. Each gift thoughtfully chosen and presented to each guest. Each guest lovingly, warmly, thanked for being there, for being part of the celebration, for being part of the hosts life, and naming how valued each person was and the gifts of life each guest brought to the party.  It was beautiful. The middle aged man was humbled, and grateful, and a little embarrassed inside about his reticence to want to attend, but mostly, he was covered in gratitude, glad to be there, and felt o.k. …..like he fit in, was supposed to be there.

A modern day story about the parable we receive today in Matthew’s Gospel account of the wedding feast. A gospel narrative that portrays the great feast of the Kingdom where God tirelessly invites those who will come to a feast of extravagant love and mercy and where those who cannot come to find it, find themselves in darkness.  A feast where all too many times we out of our own insecurities or prejudices, or stubbornness or fear, may literally kill off an invitation to mercy.  Or we may at times be pre-occupied with the distractions of life, or our misconceived notions of what is important, or our investment in the idols we have made of our need to succeed, or gain social status or importance, or even an innocent misconception about what matters most in life, may cause us to miss the invitation to an extravagant feast of love and life, of Grace and Mercy that God offers so persistently. . Even at times we may have found ourselves taking the things of our lives and like the Israelites at the bottom of the mountain waiting for Moses, spinning our fears, our impatience, our insecurities, our inadequacies, into a golden calf that shines bright the dark contrast of our unspoken darkest myth of our lives……that we are not o.k.  That we are unworthy of such extravagant love.

Yet the Good news couldn’t be more  loud and compelling when it comes to God’s desire for us and the Kingdom we are called to live into. The invitation comes multiple times and when we get ourselves to the party, however we get ourselves to the party, there is a gown of love and mercy that covers every inch of our bodies and every ounce of our being and our hearts are changed and we know that we are o.k. and we are worthy.  And so does everyone around us because of who we become.

So, I suppose the compelling point must be,  just get to the party.  I don’t know about you, about how  you got to this party, but clearly somewhere, somehow  you made it to a party where this Jesus was the host because here you are. And maybe like me you may have come here today because you need to be reminded or ae hoping you might be drenched or covered anew by the lavish extravagance of love and mercy the host has prepared for us. 

It is our season of stewardship here in this Cathedral. All year long we live into the stewardship of response to the gifts we are given by our Host by giving our time, talent and money to the kingdom work of love and mercy. Each fall we enter our season of stewardship where we ask the faithful to consider generosity and ask for the giving of monies to support what we do together in Jesus name. But, hear me this day, our story doesn’t begin or end with us asking one another for money. It begins with accepting the invitation to come to the party and it ends with our hearts changed and overflowing with generous love that can change everything!

For me, I was taken to the party as a child. By my mother, whose mother took her to the party. And she, my grandmother, by her parents who took her to the party. And the generation before that, and before that. Anglicans, English and Welsh, who through prayer and sacrament found Jesus,  the extravagant host who gave them a place to fit in, be o.k., to find resilience and strength for life by being covered every inch and every ounce in a wedding garment of Love and Mercy.

I think about the awkward teenager I was and I think about the community of party attenders my mother chose for me. The people who rallied around our family during difficult times where shame was the unspoken darkness in my quiet soul but where love and acceptance prevailed through the actions of a faithful Christian community. I learned not in my head by reciting a creed or even by reciting my catechism or a bible verse implanted by my extraordinary mentors and Sunday School teachers, I learned by being Loved and shown that Jesus IS that Love,  that I was o.k., that I was worthy, that I was going to be okay, and that God working me me and others could do wondrous things beyond my imagination or asking. I came to know  that I was loved. This because it was written on my heart by a host of a great feast, whose name is Jesus. Life has never been the same since.

My friend Pat Wingo, who some of you have met, a Priest, a friend who was here as our preacher at the end of the Summer.  Pat was studying in Guatemala city last month, seeking to learn to speak Spanish. On a Sunday morning he attended the Roman Catholic Cathedral in that city for morning mass when as he described it to me through tears, he witnessed the bold beauty of Grace unfold before his eyes. A Cathedral filled with all sorts and conditions of humanity, movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eyes. An image of an older woman, peasant woman, poorly dressed and whose face was worn hard by life. Slowly making her way the length of this large and beautiful Cathedral.  Inch by inch, slowly, deliberately, making her way to receive communion. On her knees. Clearly with a physical impediment, he watched with tears in his eyes, as she made her way to the Table to take part in the feast.  On her knees.

I suppose all of us come to the party in various ways. I suppose all of us at one time or another have sought to kill the invitation, or avoid it for whatever reason. But come to the party, this extravagant party. And Receive your gift. Love, Mercy. You’re O.K.  Your belonging. Life can never be the same.