28th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Today’s Gospel follows on from last week’s—the one about the wicked tenants. Jesus is becoming even more direct in the way he makes his point.

A wedding is a joyous occasion for any family. And when it is a royal wedding, the whole kingdom has reason to celebrate. But something strange happens in today’s Gospel. Those who were first invited refuse to come. So the king sends his servants out into the streets to invite everyone they can find.

In fact, God’s generosity is on display in all our readings today. Isaiah tells us that God will prepare a great feast for all peoples. St Paul reminds the Philippians that God will provide for their needs. And in the Gospel, the servants gather everyone they can find, both bad and good.

So God is generous. Astonishingly generous. His invitation reaches even those who never imagined they would be welcome. But what does this generous invitation ask of us? That, I think, is the important question in today’s Gospel.

Remember that Jesus is not simply telling a story about a wedding. He is speaking about the coming of the Messiah. He is challenging those religious leaders who refuse to recognise what God is doing. But this is not a condemnation of the Jewish people. It is also a warning to us, to the Church, and to every generation. We too can become so certain that we are right that we fail to recognise what God is asking of us.

And the Good News is that the invitation goes out to everyone. Think of the people who responded to Jesus: the tax collectors, the prostitutes, the poor, the blind and the lame, those who had been excluded or made to feel they were not good enough. They discovered that God’s invitation was for them too.

But then we come to the strange ending of the parable, when one of the guests is found without a wedding garment. Isn’t it odd that, in a story about a wedding, it is not the bride’s dress that matters, but a guest’s?

Now, the Gospel does not explain why the man is without it. But the wedding garment has traditionally been understood as a sign of the life God asks us to live. It represents the change that God’s grace makes possible.

We cannot earn an invitation to God’s feast. It is freely given. But neither can we accept that invitation and behave as though nothing is expected of us. God offers us the help we need to change. Our part is to accept that help and respond.

And notice something important. The servants gathered everyone, both bad and good. We are not invited because we have already become holy. We are invited so that, with God’s help, we may be transformed and learn to live in the love of Christ.

God loves us as we are, but that does not mean he wants us to remain exactly as we are. Love wants the best for the person who is loved.

Think of Zacchaeus, the tax collector who had cheated people. Jesus welcomed him, but that encounter changed Zacchaeus’s life. He promised to give to the poor and repay those he had cheated. Jesus did not simply make Zacchaeus feel better about himself. Jesus’ welcome led Zacchaeus to repent and put right what he had done wrong.

That is what God’s love does. It reaches us where we are, but it does not leave us there.

One insight of Ignatian spirituality is that, when we look honestly at what we really want deep down, we can begin to recognise what God wants for us. Of course, not everything we want is good for us. We need to learn the difference. But God wants us to live fully, to love others, and to grow in our relationship with him.

Sin damages those relationships. But it never stops God from loving us and calling us back. God forgives, but forgiveness is not permission to carry on doing wrong. Real repentance means recognising the harm we have done, trying to put things right, and changing the way we live.

That is the point of the wedding garment. God’s kingdom is a place where love, justice, truth and mercy reign. Everyone is invited, but we cannot insist on bringing dishonesty, cruelty and injustice into that kingdom as though they do not matter.

To be a Christian is to try to become more like Christ. Of course, we will fail; we will do things we know are wrong. That is why we need God’s mercy. The danger is when we stop letting the Gospel challenge us—when we make excuses for what is wrong, or persuade ourselves that Jesus would approve of what contradicts his teaching. Then, instead of allowing the Gospel to change us, we try to change the Gospel to suit ourselves.

But surely love, justice, truth and mercy must matter not only in our personal lives but also in our public life. They must shape the way we govern, the laws we make, and the way we treat those who are vulnerable.

And we have had a timely reminder of this in the announcement on Friday that South Africa’s Navi Pillay has been awarded the 2026 Nobel Peace Prize. This is good news for our region, and for everyone who believes in human rights, the rule of law and the dignity of every person.

From her opposition to apartheid to her work in international courts, Pillay has insisted that justice must apply to everyone. No one, however powerful, should be above the law.

And surely this has something to say to us here in Zimbabwe, particularly at this moment. We see the struggles within the ruling party, the tensions between the President and his deputy over political succession and the Constitution, and, following the death of Wicknell Chivayo, the continuing questions about wealth, political influence and accountability.

These are not simply questions about who should govern us. They are questions about the sort of society we are building. Is the law there to protect everyone, or to serve those who hold power and wish to keep it? Are our institutions there to uphold justice, or to protect privilege?

And perhaps many people already know the answers, but are afraid to say them aloud. They know that speaking the truth can carry a personal cost, and that the law does not always protect those who most need its protection.

We should not be too quick to demand courage from people who have every reason to be afraid. Rather, we should ask why they must be afraid in the first place, and why those entrusted with protecting people so often fail to do so.

God’s invitation is extended to everyone, and it calls each of us to change. But those who hold authority have a particular responsibility, because their decisions affect the lives of others, especially those with the least power to defend themselves.

The wedding garment is not something we put on just for the wedding, or only when it suits us. It is the life of love, justice, truth and mercy that we are called to live every day as people made new in Christ. It must shape our private lives, our public responsibilities, and the society we build together.

So let us ask ourselves this evening:

• Where is God inviting me to change?
• Where am I making excuses for something I know is wrong?
• Where might God be asking me to act with greater honesty, justice, courage or mercy?

We come together today around the table of the Lord, a foretaste of that great feast to which God invites everyone. We do not come because we are perfect, or because we have earned our place. We come because God is generous and merciful.

Let us ask for the grace to respond to his invitation, to clothe ourselves in love, justice, truth and mercy, and to become the people God has created us to be.

Amen.