A sermon for the Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 23
October 11, 2026, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR
Readings:Isaiah 25:1-9; Psalm 23; Philippians 4:1-9; Matthew 22:1-14
“You die the way you live.” That was advice I heard from a mentor of mine. She had seen it time and again as a priest. So have I. The patterns of our everyday life impact how we will die. If we live in despair, we will die despairing, discontented with what we have, looking for that next best thing just over the next hill. But if we live in peace with God and all people, grateful for what God has given us, we will die in peace. If we live in anger, looking for vengeance, we will die angry. But if we live loving God with all we are and loving our neighbors as ourselves, we will die loving, open-hearted, generous in spirit. This is Jesus’s parable today.
This parable comes from his final sermon, of sorts. Jesus has entered Jerusalem and he has been confronted by the chief priests and elders, the religious elite who think they have it all figured out, the gatekeepers of salvation. Jesus has been hitting this group hard with parable after parable, calling them to repentance, calling them to see their lives in God differently. He is calling them to a truer way of seeing God’s action in the world, in their lives, in Jesus himself. But they do not–they cannot–hear him.
In the parable, the King is giving a banquet for his Son. Banquets are often a symbol of the end, even heaven, when eternity eclipses time at the eschaton. We saw this symbol in our reading from Isaiah: “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear. And he will destroy on this mountain the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the sheet that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death forever.” This is the promise of restoration, of a new creation that we are caught up into, that we are invited into. And all of this is because of the extravagant hospitality and gift of the King. It is a feast of grace and love.
But not everyone responds in the way we might think. Some folks resist grace. Why? Other things are more important. Those who received their invitations, symbolic of the religious elite, those chief priests and elders, are too busy with other things. The King’s grace is not as important as their own work. Jesus tells us, “But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, mistreated them, and killed them.”
“You will die the way you live,” that’s what my mentor said. And so it was with George. For George, there was nothing more important than making money. He had come from nothing and built an empire. He would be your friend if you might be a good business partner, but he was on record saying friendship was a waste of time if it wasn’t a means to an end. Family took a backseat with him; there was always a deal to be made. People saw him and they thought that’s what success looks like. And young men wanted to be like him. But when Jesus called George was too busy. He gave money–that’s enough. He gave a lot of money–that ought to get him something. But he had not love. He died the way he lived, wishing he had acquired a little more, lamenting that he hadn’t made Forbes Magazine’s elite list. And as he closed his eyes he didn’t even see his family around him; he didn’t hear their love; he just wept in the darkness.
Jesus continues his parable. He compels the servants to go gather in everyone else. Go get those who thought they would never get an invitation, both good and bad. Bring them in. The food is ready. But someone doesn’t look the part; he’s not wearing the wedding garment. This is not a matter of someone showing up in cowboy boots to a black tie affair, as the song goes. No, the wedding garment was given to you at the door. This is a matter of someone not wanting to go along with the King; they throw the garment away.
“You die the way you live”–that’s what I was told. Rachel was a priest in the Episcopal Church. You’d figure she had things figured out, but we priests rarely do. Rachel fell into the trap of self-righteousness and pride. She thought she had the religion thing by the tail. She prayed prayers better than anyone else; she fasted more than anyone else; she gave more than the 10% tithe. Instead of trusting in God’s grace, instead of recognizing she was a sinner in need of the love of God, she puffed herself up in pride, and put down others who weren’t as good, and relied on her own strength. She had not love. She died the way she lived, regretting she had not tried just a little harder. And when her priest friend came to give her Last Rites, she didn’t hear–she couldn’t hear that she was forgiven. Instead, she gnashed her teeth because she could have done more, and there was darkness.
But then there are the others. Look across the banquet hall. Go ahead, and look around. The good and the bad are gathered in. We’re all a mix, after all. If you look across this banquet hall (go ahead!), you will see people who, everyday, try to live this Christian life. They try to love God. They try to love their neighbors as themselves. They don’t always do it, but they ask for grace and forgiveness. And little by little, year after year, they grow in faith, hope, and love. They grow in kindness and wisdom and prudence and mercy, and they never beat anyone else up because they know–we know that we are imperfect, too. And I hope that when people see us, they say, oh, they must be Christians, because look how they love. If you look across this banquet hall (go ahead, now), you will see the faces of people who pray. Sometimes it is hard, but they try. You will see faces of sinners who kneel at the altar to receive Christ’s own Body and Blood, hands open to receive grace freely given with thankful hearts.
“You die the way you live.” Choose grace today. Choose love today. Choose thanksgiving today. Choose forgiveness today. Choose humility today. Choose Jesus today.
