In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Well, here we are, eight days before the feast. Anybody getting excited? The Sunday of the Forefathers, as it’s called, although so many of the patriarchs and prophets and figures of Israelite history have their feast days during the course of the year, we have a sort of All Saints’ Day just for the ones we may have missed. We’ve got the list of those chanted last night at vespers and at matins this morning, this long list of some of them.

The third chapter of Colossians and the 14th chapter of Luke are picked for this day for a special reason. The epistle to the Colossians speaks of the appearance of Christ, “when Christ shall appear, who is your life,” he says. And also the parable of the banquet in which we are told, “All is now ready.” All is now ready.

Following especially the parable this morning, let me talk about three points pertinent to today. The first is the invitation itself and the freedom which is presupposed—in fact, required—by the invitation. Now freedom is a very, very big subject. The word does not mean the same thing at all; it has a whole bunch of meanings. There’s a special meaning it has in the Christian faith. In the Christian faith, freedom is not something indeterminate. It’s important to know that, because that’s exactly what it means in the political order. Freedom means you can kind of do what you want. In fact, freedom now has come to mean you can be anything that you want. I think I was alive to see the first t-shirts that proclaimed that, that you can be anything that you want. I mean, it’s an absolutely insane thesis; you can’t. But eventually people started taking that seriously: they can be anything that they want, and that’s preposterous; that’s delusional.

In the Christian faith we do not understand freedom in that way at all. Freedom is not indeterminacy. It’s a quality of a context. You see, outside of a context, freedom is a senseless concept. For example—it seems to be a pretty easy example—let me ask you—whom will I ask? Paul. Are you free to be a big league ball player? Yes, you are. You have that freedom. But it doesn’t mean anything, does it? It doesn’t mean anything at all; it’s just a statement. It’s a metaphysical sort of statement. It only starts to mean something if somebody actually says, “Would you come and play ball for us?” Notice it has no real meaning, no existential meaning, except in a context. If some team asks for you to come and play for them, then you have freedom to go or not. That’s the context.

In other words, the freedom of this gospel story makes sense only in the context of the invitation. Until one is faced with the invitation, freedom is an abstraction; it doesn’t mean anything. Now human beings, beloved, are endowed with freedom for the sake of making real choices, and particularly making the real choice with respect to their destiny. God does not give us freedom so that we can make bad choices. That’s not the purpose of freedom. And bad choices do not validate freedom. You do not become more free by declining the invitation. God endowed us with freedom for the sake of the invitation, and it is an invitation.

Freedom—another way of putting it: freedom is a quality of responsibility. It’s a quality of responsibility. It never means that in the secular world, does it? It never means that: Freedom is a quality of responsibility. Freedom is a quality of responsibility; it’s a quality of our ability to respond, which is exactly what responsibility means, isn’t it? The ability to respond. Freedom is a quality of our ability to respond.

You see, God is not indifferent about our choices. “I’m throwing a banquet. Come or not, it’s all the same to me.” No, no, no! It’s not all the same to God, not at all. He created us for the sake of inviting us to the banquet. God is not indifferent about our choices. One concept that appears in both the epistle and the gospel this morning is this: the anger of God. The anger of God appears in both the epistle and the gospel. Here we are, eight days before Christmas, and we’re hearing about the anger of God. Eight days before Christmas.

Paul to the Colossians says that God’s wrath falls on those he calls the sons of disobedience, and the householder who sent out the invitation today, when it’s turned down, he becomes very angry. But how is the anger of God expressed in this parable? How is it expressed? He withdraws the invitation. That’s how it’s expressed. He withdraws the invitation, because God does not force anybody to come to the banquet. God’s anger is a feature of his respect for us. The anger of God is a compliment made to human choice. Now that is the anger of God, that he respects our choices.

This is a great theological truth, violated by the heresy of what’s known as universalism. Universalism is taken to mean that everybody goes to heaven—whether you want to or not, everybody goes to heaven. That’s the heresy of universalism, condemned by the Fifth Ecumenical Council of the Church, and still held by a great variety of Orthodox theologians, or at least theologians who call themselves Orthodox, that everybody’s going to get to heaven, whether they want to or not. We’re told by such folk that everyone must be saved, because a good and an almighty God cannot allow anybody to skip the banquet.

There are people in this world for whom the banquet would mean absolutely nothing but eternal acid indigestion. [Laughter] And God’s not going to force anybody to do that: eternal acid indigestion. This is not the God proclaimed by Jesus. The God proclaimed by Jesus respects our choices, and our choices are consequential. The Unitarian Universalist denies the significance of human choice.

Now in American early history of religion—I’m thinking of New England, not so much Virginia and the South, but I’m thinking of New England. New England produced several kinds of theology, but the chief two were at rivalry with one another. The Puritans believe that God predestines some people to hell, and Unitarians believe that God predestines all people to heaven. [Laughter] It is debatable which of these heresies is the more egregious. You know, if there’s one single, unifying, and common trait to every single parable of Jesus, it is this: we choose. We choose.

For those of you who are wondering whether you will be with God forever, let me at least give you a consoling thought here. Nobody goes to hell by accident! [Laughter] You can’t say, “I didn’t know!” No, let me give you a second thought. No one is in hell who would be happier in heaven. Everybody there is there by choice, by their decision.

Second, let’s talk about the banquet. Now what do we do at a banquet? I plan to have one in about eight days. I mean, it won’t amount to much, but it will at least involve, well, certain breakfast foods that I… We eat at a banquet, and that’s the first thing the householder says in the invitation: “All is now ready.” Because this is the end of Advent; we’re coming to the end of Advent: All is now ready.

Now in what, beloved, does this banquet consist? The banquet of the kingdom is participation in the very life of God, communion with God in love and knowledge. That’s our life. When Christ appears, Christos phanerothei—phanerothei, when Christ appears—says Paul, “who is your life”—the word there is not bios as in biology; it’s the spiritual meaning of life, zoe. “When Christ who is your life appears.”

God created human beings, beloved, in order to deify them, to make them his children, to fill them with the Holy Spirit. God created human beings for the messianic life. Now this invitation is universal and generous. In this morning’s parable, God’s house is portrayed as large and roomy and can contain everybody. God chose one people, the children of Jacob. He chose that one people for the sake of all peoples. That’s why this morning’s epistle says ultimately it makes no difference between Jew and Greek. I remark from time to time that this is the major theological question answered in the New Testament: Can Greeks become Orthodox? [Laughter] And after considerable debate, the Church decided to let Greeks in, but it took a debate! There was a lot more debate on that than about letting the Irish in! But of course, that had already been settled. If the Greeks could come in, anybody could get in. [Laughter]

But it says that in this morning’s epistle, that in Christ Jesus there is no difference between Jew and Greek, because Israel was God’s chosen people for the sake of everybody else—for the sake of everybody else. Compared with the banquet, beloved, everything else is trivial. Look at today’s excuses: “I have purchased a field, and I have to go look at it.” That would not even be a good excuse for turning down anything, much less the kingdom! [Laughter] “I have purchased some oxen, and I must go and inspect them.” We can change that from “oxen” to “new car,” whatever, a tractor. “I have married a wife.” Here he doesn’t even ask to be excused; he just says, “I have married a wife; I can’t come.” That sounds kind of funny, but over the years I have seen marriages in which somebody lost the kingdom for the sake of the marriage. I have seen that. I have seen that. I’ve seen that personal and up close, where someone loses the kingdom for the sake of the marriage. I have seen that. There it is.

The invitation to the banquet, in other words, is inconvenient. The one who hears it says, “I cannot give this invitation any serious priority in my life. I could pick the invitation maybe second or third, but it can’t be first in my life, because I am busy about many things. Besides, the timing is all wrong, and I have a scheduling conflict. I must go and look at this field.”

And third this morning, let us talk about the messengers of the invitation. They’re called the servants of God. The householder, the anthropos tis, a certain man, sends out the messengers. The Greek word for “messengers,” is of course what? Angeloi. Isn’t that right. Who are these messengers that extend God’s invitation to us? We celebrate their feast day today, don’t we? We celebrate the Feast of the Forefathers. They’re the prophets and sages through whose mediation we receive the word of God. Moses, called at the burning bush. Jesus says of Moses, “If you believe Moses, you would believe me, because he wrote of me.” Isaiah, who was called in the Temple in the year that King Uzziah died. David, who was summoned from the sheepfolds to become the sweet psalmist of Israel. David, who gave us the fundamental prayers of the people of God. David, whose psalms we pray every day. David, whose words we make our own. Ezekiel, confronted by a vision of the Kebar Canal in Babylon.

Today especially, being the 17th of December: Daniel, the man of desires, and his three companions, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. I hope every child in this parish knows that song by heart. I hope every child in this parish knows that song by heart. I used to have these precious memories of two very little children, two and three years old, singing, clapping their hands, all about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. All clapping their hands, and then falling down when they sang about the walls of Jericho. Those who swung their arms when they sang, “Swing low, sweet chariot.” I remember Elijah and that one mean set of wheels.

You see, these proclaim the invitation at sundry times and in diverse manners. Now these invitations—let’s talk about these invitations. Usually we get our invitation on a piece of paper and it says so forth and RSVP. And in some sense we still get that in the Bible; it’s written down—but there’s more than that. Suppose that for your invitation for the banquet, you should be sent a little box of the hors d’oeuvres. You get a taste. With the invitation arrives, a taste of what the meal is going to be like! You see, that’s what we have in the Scriptures. This is an edible invitation. You don’t just read it; you eat it. In fact, we find them doing that. Ezekiel! Just go back to Ezekiel: he takes the manuscript and he eats it. St. John the same way in the book of Revelation: he eats it. You see, God sends us a sample from the banquet hall, just to get us interested in the meal!

In these sundry invitations, we receive a taste of what is promised. I confess that I am following here pretty closely to the thought of St. Gregory the Theologian in his Catechetical Sermons, preparing people for baptism. The Psalms of Asaph the Seer in David that we hear the very melody from the banquet hall. You see, God sends us a CD of the hymnography that’s going to be part of that banquet. Isaiah’s vision, even today, this morning, we will chant the song that David heard on that distant day in the year that King Uzziah died. Ezra the Scribe, Nehemiah the Wall-builder.

This morning I need to say something about Judah Maccabeus. Last night I preached what I think was my 20th sermon for Hanukkah. I do that every year, preach on the theme of Hanukkah. I did that last night, and Judas Maccabeus, the great Maccabean witnesses, is explicitly spoken about in the 11th chapter in the epistle to the [Hebrews]. The meal can start, in fact, as soon as the invitation arrives. You can start eating right away, get it right away, because the invitation is the first course of the whole meal. It is the very sample from the table. Because man does not live by bread alone, says Deuteronomy and says Christ our Lord. Man does not live by bread alone; he lives by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.