Child Rearing for Dummies

Let's begin with a little exercise in imagination. I'd like you to imagine a few scenes that are typical situations in child rearing. I don’t have children, of course, and some of you have never had the responsibility of raising a child. But I think these examples are so universal that they will be meaningful for everyone. Imagine first the bath before bed, and the four-year-old boy who absolutely would rather die than get in the tub. Imagine that you are the parent. It seems to me that you have two basic options. One is to make the bath more than soap and water and requires you to buy a plastic submarine that makes bubbles and is self-propelled when it’s submerged. And if the submarine isn’t enough, maybe you will also purchase a whole tub full of enemy ships just waiting to be sunk by the sub.

Or you, as the parent, have another option. "If you don’t take your bath you don’t get any cookies for a week and we’re not going to the zoo tomorrow."

We could imagine all sorts of similar scenarios related to child rearing… what to do about the girl who won’t eat her carrots, or the teenager who just isn’t interested in homework, or the child who doesn't want to attend church.

All of these scenarios would have several features in common. First and foremost is a loving parent. A loving parent, who would literally do anything to further the best interest of the child. And all of these examples include a child who, for whatever reason, is not acting in his or her own best interest. Maybe it’s just a toddler’s immature contrariness, or maybe it’s a teenager’s rebellion as she seeks to find her own identity. Maybe it’s the temptation of unhealthy attractions. Maybe it’s just the child's lazy indifference. But loving parents, parents who cannot be indifferent, have two options in their efforts to help and nurture their children. Two options. Entice or threaten. Entice the child into the tub with a wondrous and exciting array of activities. Or threaten the child with dire consequences if he fails to do what he should.

God, of course, is a loving parent who would do absolutely anything (anything!) to bring the children of God into the kingdom of heaven. Yet, like so many children, we often refuse to do what is best for us. Maybe we’re the toddler who says "No!" and stamps his feet when our heavenly parent tries to lead us into the kingdom. Why would we behave like toddlers? Who knows. Or maybe we’re the teenager who pridefully and self-centeredly insists upon charting her own course, going her own way, in spite of God’s best intentions for us. Maybe we’re just too lazy or too busy to bother with the kingdom of heaven.

What’s a loving parent to do when children refuse or ignore what’s best for them? What is God to do when we turn away from the kingdom of heaven? Entice or threaten? In today’s gospel from Matthew, Jesus tries both.

He entices. First with an invitation—an invitation to a wedding banquet in honor of the king’s son. Presumably that’s not an invitation that comes every day. Surely people will be eager to come. And if they need more enticement, he mentions that the dinner is already prepared, the tables laden with the richest meat.

Then he threatens. Those who do not come are destroyed and their city burned. And anyone who does not fully appreciate the king’s invitation will be thrown into outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

My observations of the child rearing efforts of others lead me to conclude that there are times when enticement works and there are times when the most appropriate course a parent can take is to remind children that their actions do have consequences, and bad actions have bad consequences. Which is most likely to get you to accept God’s invitation into the kingdom of heaven? Enticement or a stern reminder of the consequences of indifference? Which should I preach? I would like to do everything I can to help you do what’s best for you, to encourage you to choose the kingdom of heaven. Should I preach fire and brimstone? Or should I metaphorically try to fill the tub with so many interesting toys that even the most recalcitrant four year old wouldn’t be able to resist a bath? Or are you immune to both threats and enticements?

Most scholars think that the threats in this morning’s reading from Matthew probably were not a part of the parable as it was originally told by Jesus. Luke’s version of this story is quite different. Why was Matthew inspired to add these bits? The Christians of Matthew’s day, some fifty years or so after Christ’s death, had seen their holy city Jerusalem fall to the Romans; they had seen the temple destroyed. They could only understand these events as God’s retribution for the peoples’ indifference. These days we would be unlikely to cast God in such a vengeful light; nor would we imagine that the politically ambitious invading armies of Rome were acting as God’s agents. Neither does Matthew’s language of "outer darkness where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth" hold much meaning for us. And yet there are surely consequences if we are indifferent to God's invitation to enter the kingdom..

What threat is meaningful for us today? What will be the consequences in our lives if we make light of God’s invitation and blithely go about our business? We may not think of outer darkness as a place anymore, but a life lived outside God’s kingdom is a life lived in darkness, a life lived in twilight where the sun never quite fully rises. A life filled with hollow pleasures and vain hopes. A pointless, meaningless life.

Shakespeare’s Macbeth describes such a life:

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more; it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

That is a life lived in outer darkness.

On the other hand, God offers us an enticing banquet. Again and again in Holy Scripture, a heavenly banquet is used as an image for life with God. Our own image of a banquet has probably been tarnished by endless sports banquets and retirement banquets… Not that those are bad things, but they are feeble examples of the heavenly banquet that God is trying to entice us into.

For one thing the banquets described in the Bible take place in a home, not a rented hall. And there is no charge to attend, neither by the head or by the table. The best sort of banquet takes place in a home. And to attend such a holy banquet you must step over the threshold through a doorway into a home, a place where someone lives and makes a life, a place that provides shelter from the night and from the storms. A banquet is an offer of hospitality.

An offer made by a host. A banquet has a host. It is more than just a meal. It is a meal to which we have been invited by a loving and generous host. A host who wants us to be there and who welcomes us across the threshold. A host who wants to share this time, this meal with us, and hopes more than anything that it will bring us peace, strength, joy.

A home and a host. The third thing a real banquet has is guests. A banquet cannot be eaten alone, and those who are invited to God’s banquet will never be alone. The banquet offered in the kingdom of heaven is something shared with others, a time and place where food and stories, joy and sadness are shared, where sustenance comes not just from food, but also from the fellowship and companionship of others.

And finally, at a real banquet, only the best is served. The very best. (Unlike most corporate banquets I’ve attended.) The very best doesn’t necessarily mean the most costly. It means the best—the best that can be shared. In Jesus day, the best a host could offer was to slaughter the choicest fatted calf from his own herd. In our day, the best a host could offer might be bread made by hand—a rich investment of time and care. Whatever the best may be, at a banquet we are offered the very best… without any expectation that we ever "return the favor." Our host simply hopes, passionately hopes, that we will come to the table with gratitude and joy.

The ultimate banquet offered to us as Christians is the Holy Eucharist. When we come to this feast, we cross the threshold into God’s own home, God’s own holy space, to sit at God’s own table where we offered the very best—communion with God in Christ. The Eucharist is, of course, a meal, and it is easy to see it as a symbol for our participation in God’s heavenly banquet. But the Eucharist is a meal meant to remind and sustain us in the knowledge that all of our lives (not just our meals) can be lived at God’s banquet table. We are invited to live every minute of our lives in the kingdom of heaven, the household of God, as the beneficiaries of God's limitless hospitality. Or we can live in outer darkness.

We’ve been threatened. We’ve been enticed with riches beyond our imagining. We’ve been invited to God’s banquet table. We can make light of God’s invitation and turn back to the busyness of our lives. Or we can turn towards the kingdom of heaven and dedicate our lives to God. The decision is ours.  God, our parent, would die to help us make the right decision.

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