Let’s just say it: this is a crazy story. Most of us have been invited to at least one wedding at some point in our lives that we didn’t really want to attend: a third cousin who’s just fishing for presents, a co-worker whom you barely know that wants to show off, and so on.
Usually they are easy enough to get out of: we return the 
response card with our “regrets,” send the couple some candlesticks, and go on about our business. But we don’t, as a rule, gun down the mail carrier in cold blood because she brought us an invitation we didn’t want; most of us would agree that’s a bit of an overreaction.
And given that overreaction, I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that the host seems to overreact, too. Now, I have seen a lot of overreaction from parents over the plans for a wedding or the reception. A lot of overreaction. But even the most unbalanced parent, I think, would agree that this king is overreacting, too. I suspect that’s why the rejected wedding guest at the end of the parable is speechless. What’s he going to say? If your host has just finished burning down a whole city while the food was getting cold, you couldn’t really complain about being tied up and thrown out into the dumpster because you ignored the dress code! It’s all just so bizarre.
Now, Jesus is being intentionally bizarre, of course. He is doing the time-tested preacher’s trick of catching his audience off-guard so that they start asking questions. His audience, no less than we, would have started murmuring to one another. “This is a crazy story. Who is going to refuse a wedding invitation from a king? Who is going to have so little respect for a king that they would actually kill his messengers rather than enjoy his party? Why does the king go out and welcome anyone he can find? Why does the man at the end of the story not have a wedding robe? Why is the wedding robe so important?”
It doesn’t take an English major to tell that this story isn’t simply a parable, it’s an allegory, which means that the characters and details all represent something else, and when you break that code you unlock the meaning of the story. Jesus is rehearsing the past and predicting the future in terms of the response to God’s saving grace. So, a king (God) gives a banquet (life in God’s kingdom) that honors his son (Jesus). He sends out his messengers (the prophets) to tell those who had been invited (the establishment religious leaders and people) that the time had come for the banquet.
They refused to come, so he sent other messengers (the early disciples), who were ignored or even captured or killed. The king is outraged, so he uses his army to burn down their city. Most commentators agree this is an allusion to the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans, which would have happened not long before Matthew was writing.[1] As we see throughout the Old Testament, the same Jewish prophets that Jesus is talking about often interpreted invading foreign armies as God’s punishment for Israel’s disobedience, so it wouldn’t have been a problem on theological grounds for anyone in Jesus’ audience.[2]
However, it’s not quite so easy for most of us. And somehow it ends up even worse. First it seems that things are getting better. The king then invites everyone his servants can find, regardless of background (clearly, the Jews and Gentiles who become the early church), to fill up the banquet hall instead. But then we have this guest caught without a wedding robe. It sounds more like the Godfather than God, hog-tying one of his guests and throwing him out into the darkness for disrespecting him. That’s not the kind of God that most of us want to believe in; that sort of thing is what gives God a bad name.
Fortunately, it’s not the kind of God that Jesus believes in, either. All allegories or metaphors for God ultimately fall apart, and again, Jesus is intentionally constructing this story to use extreme exaggeration to make a point. All parables do that to some degree; it’s an essential part of the genre. Think of it as a teaching version of the car chase trope in action movies: those are an essential part of the genre, too, but in real life, you can’t jump a car across a 70-foot river or through the open doors of a boxcar on a moving train and simply go on with your day, and nobody actually believes otherwise.
So what actually is the point here? Well, it’s not so much about the king as the rejected wedding guest within the story. The point here is that the wedding guest hasn’t come for the right reasons. Think of this story as a very early draft of the movie Wedding Crashers, a ridiculous comedy movie from about twenty years ago. The basic premise of the movie is two friends who have perfected the art of “crashing” weddings: going to weddings and pretending to be invited guests in order to enjoy the food and drinks, dance to the band, and, of course, meet the single women who are attending that wedding.
Their very brazenness is what allows them to get away with it: they join in group dances, make toasts, take photos with the bride and groom, even help cut the cake at one wedding! But unlike everyone else at the wedding, they’re not there to celebrate the union of two people in marriage; they’re there to simply to take advantage of the situation and enjoy themselves.
That’s the problem with the wedding guest in the parable, as well; he is the first century equivalent of a wedding crasher, someone who is happy to take advantage of the generosity of the host, but who has no intention of actually honoring the purpose of the wedding. And in his case, that’s a pretty low bar to clear. At this point, it’s an open invitation, and it clearly says “come as you are,” but it also says you can’t stay that way; we are expected to change. Proper dress is still required, but it is the king who provides it, not the guests; that was part of the culture of the day.[3] All the guests have to do is put it on, which means that this guest who is thrown out couldn’t or wouldn’t even do that much. He’s not there for the actual celebration; he’s not there to honor the son; he’s just there for the festivities.
Now this story isn’t really about proper dress: the wedding robe, like everything else in this story, is a symbol of a deeper reality. The robe represents the new life in Christ; it is a metaphor for what we are preparing to do for Harper Pierce in the Sacrament of Baptism this morning. Paul says it best to the letter to the Galatians: “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise.” [4]
That means that we are invited, you and I and everyone else God can find, no matter where we come from, no matter what we have done. When we arrive, underdressed and uncertain about why we got the invitation, or why we accepted it, or whether we really belong here, we are told that we could come as we are, be we can’t stay that way. But then we are handed a glistening robe at the door and told, “you do belong here, because the king has invited you.” Each one is unique, and yet each one clearly matches the others. Don’t worry if it seems too big at first; with repeated wear it will shrink to fit. And as you worship and study and serve and give and tell others why, it will get a lot of wear. And in doing so, it will become more than yours; it will become you. So, come: the party has already started, the table is set, and all of us are invited; it’s time to get changed.
[1] See, for example, Matthew Harrington, The Gospel of Matthew, Sacra Pagina 1 (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1991) 308;Eugene Boring, Matthew, New Interpreter’s Bible vol. 8 (Nashville: Abingdon, 1995) 416-417; Douglas R.A. Hare, Matthew, Interpretation series (Louisville: John Knox, 1993), 251-252; Tom Long, Matthew, Westminster Bible Companion (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1997), 246-247.
[2] Harrington, Matthew, 308.
[3] Bruce Malina and Richard Rohrbaugh, Social-Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1992), 135.
[4]Galatians 3:27. Tom Long, Matthew, 247, also notes this correlation, but it is an ancient liturgical association.