01.25. Chapter 5. The Wedding-Feast and the Wedding-Robe

Chapter 5.
The Wedding-Feast and the Wedding-Robe Or, the Doom of Despisers and Abusers of Grace.

Jesus, we are told by the Evangelist, spake again to the people in parables, saying: The kingdom of heaven is likened unto a certain king who made a marriage feast for his son. And he sent forth his servants to call the called[1] to the feast, and they would not come. Again he sent forth other servants, saying. Tell the invited: Behold, I have made ready my dinner,[2] my oxen and my fed beasts are slain, and all things are ready, come to the feast. But they made light of it, and went their ways, one to his own farm, another to his merchandise; and the rest laid hold on his servants, and entreated them shamefully, and killed them. But the king was wroth,[3] and he sent his armies[4] and destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then saith he to his servants, The wedding[5] is ready, but those who were invited were not worthy. Go ye therefore unto the thoroughfares,[6] and as many as ye shall find bid to the marriage feast.—And those servants going out into the roads, gathered together all as many[7] as they found, both bad and good; and the wedding chamber[8] was Jilted with guests. But when the king came in to behold the guests he saw there a man not clad with a wedding garment. And he saith unto him, Friend, how earnest thou in hither not having a wedding garment? And he was speechless. Then the king said to the ministers,[9] Bind him hand and foot and cast him out into the outer darkness; there shall be the weeping and the gnashing of teeth. For many are called, but few chosen.—St. Mat 22:1-14.

[1] καλέσαι τοὑς κεκλημένους.

[2] ἄριστον, the midday meal, "with which the series of marriage festivities would begin."—Meyer.

[3] The ἀκούσας of the T. R. is omitted in the best MSS.

[4] Some texts have the singular τὸ στράτευμα, a reading probably due to a feeling that armies were not needed for such an expedition, or to the knowledge that the Romans used only one army against Jerusalem. So Fritsche. There is a certain tone of exaggeration in the expression, or perhaps we should rather say vagueness and inexactitude.

[5] ὀ γάμος, the plural in Mat 22:2 refers to the festivities connected with the wedding.

[6] τὰς διεξόδους τῶν ὁδῶν, literally the outlets of the ways, exitus viarum, Vulg. The word διέξοδος occurs only once in the N. T., and it is impossible to determine with certainty what is meant by the expression in the text. It may either signify the roads leading out from the town into the country, or the crossings of such, or the streets leading into open places and squares in the town. The general idea is: places where men an likely to be found, whether in town or in country.

[7] ὅσους. Westcott and Hort adopt the reading οὒς.

[8] ὁ νυμφὼν, the reading of S. B. L.; ὁ γάμος in T. R.

[9] διακόνοις. The manner in which this parable is introduced does not imply any strict view as to the connection with what goes before, and it is not likely to have come in just at this point. It may be too much to say that it occupies an impossible position;[1] but it certainly does seem to interrupt the course of the history as indicated in the narratives of. the other Synoptical Evangelists. From internal evidence, however, it is manifest that the parable belongs to the last days of our Lord’s life, and is to be regarded as one of the memorable utterances of the Passion week.[2] In its first part it has a close affinity with the preceding parable of the vinedressers, presenting a gloomy picture of similar misconduct visited with similar doom. That parable exposes Israel’s neglect of covenanted duty; this her contempt of God’s grace. The two are mutually complementary, and present together a full view of Israel’s sin. The parable now to be considered bears a still more obvious resemblance to one already studied under the second division, that of the Great Supper in the fourteenth chapter of Luke. The common features are so numerous and striking as to have led many to regard the two as one parable differently reported by the first and third Evangelists.[3] The opinion is one which can hardly fail to suggest itself, and yet it is based on a very superficial, outward view of the narratives. Without doubt the theme is one and the same, but it is a theme twice handled by the same artist, and for diverse purposes. If the essence or soul of a parable lie in its didactic drift, then these two parables are broadly distinct, while in several circumstances or features strikingly like. The earlier of the two is a parable of grace, having for its aim to show what sort of men care for and shall enjoy the blessings of the kingdom; the later is a parable of judgment, having for its aim to show the doom of those who in any way despise, abuse, or undervalue these blessings. There is indeed both grace and judgment in each parable, but in very different proportions, and with differently-placed emphasis. The host in the earlier parable declares that the first invited shall not taste of his feast; that is the amount of the judicial element, and even this comes in not so much as a threatening of punishment, but rather as an indirect intimation that they are not the kind of men for whom the joys of the kingdom are designed, these being reserved for the hungry. In the later parable the host shows his grace by inviting and re-inviting to his feast, and even humbling himself to extol the entertainment in prospect with a view to excite desire; but all this takes place only to enhance the culpability of those who after all refuse to come, and to justify the severity with which they are visited.

[1] So Keim.

[2] Keim admits that the materials out of which the parable is constructed (by the Evangelist) suit that late period.

[3] This opinion is held, among others, by Calvin and Maldonatus. The difference just indicated in the didactic drift of the two parables explains at once their resemblances and their points of contrast. Common to both are a feast, a refusal from the first invited, and a subsequent invitation to a lower class. These resemblances arise out of the fact that the two parables deal in different ways and to different intents with the grace of the kingdom; the one showing who are its chosen objects, the other the danger of despising it. A feast is a most appropriate emblem of the kingdom as a kingdom of grace, likely to be employed as often as there was occasion to speak of that topic. The refusal of the first invited shows the tendency of preoccupation to produce indifference, and supplies a motive for inviting persons not at first contemplated as guests, though more likely from their circumstances to welcome the benefit put within their reach. That final invitation thus brought about, for the first time brings into light the true genius of grace, accrediting it with a benignant will to make its blessings free to all, and if possible freest to those who most urgently need them. On the other hand, the parables differ in these respects, that in the earlier the feast is given by a private individual, in the later by a king to his subjects, and on a very important occasion—the marriage of his son; in the one the invitation to the first invited is not repeated after it has been refused, in the other it is repeated with such descriptive accompaniments as are fitted to awaken desire; in the one the first invited are simply indifferent, in the other they not only show indifference, but some of them at least proceed to deeds of violence, and these are visited with violent penalties. All these variations are accounted for by the simple consideration that the later parable is a parable of judgment. The feast is one given by a king on a solemn occasion, because such a feast gives scope for a kind of offences and of punishments which could have no place in connection with a private feast. It is a feast possessing political significance, presence at which is a mark of loyalty, absence from which indicates a spirit of disaffection which is sure to manifest itself in deeds of rebellion, making vengeance inevitable. The invitation is repeated to make the king’s patience conspicuous, to bring more fully into the light the latent hostility of his subjects, and to exhibit their persistent refusal as utterly inexcusable. Acts of violence are ascribed to some of the invited because such enormities were the actual reply of Israel’s representatives to God’s overtures of love, and the mention of them prepares the hearer for sympathising with the doom pronounced against them. That doom is inexorably severe, but it is only an exact anticipation of the fact, and a parable setting forth the judgment of Heaven on contempt of grace could not, if it aimed at adequate statement, say less. In all these respects the variations are only such as we should expect from any expert in the use of the parabolic style. And the method of variation is also what we should expect such an one to employ in such a case; that is, the adaptation of an old theme to a new case, rather than the invention of an entirely new theme. The common theme forms the link of connection between two parables, both of which relate to grace; the variations in the later form from the earlier point it out as a parable setting forth the judgment of grace despised. What is common gives emphasis to what is peculiar, and bids us mark what it is that is judged. Why should we hesitate to ascribe such skilful variation for so important a purpose to the Great Master rather than to the Evangelist? Why refuse to Christ the use of a method which seems not to have been unknown even to the Rabbis?[1]

[1] Wünsche cites no less than three parables from the Talmud more or less like the one we are considering. The first is of a king who asks guests to a feast, not telling them when it was to be, but bidding them prepare for it by bathing, washing their garments, &c. Those anxious to be present watch at the door of the palace for the symptoms of the feast approaching; the easy-minded go about their business and are taken by surprise, and come in every-day attire to be rejected. The moral is—Watch, for ye know not the day of death. The second is of a king who invited to a feast and bade the guests bring each a seat. The guests brought all sorts of things—carpets, stools, pieces of wood, &c. The king ordered that each should sit on what he had brought. Those who brought poor seats complained: Were these seats for a palace? The king replied, they had themselves to blame. Moral—we shall fare as we deserve. The third is of a king who distributed costly robes among his servants; the wise folded them up and took care of them, the foolish wore them. The garments were demanded back; the wise render up their trust with approbation; the foolish had to send the garments to the washing, and were put in prison. The garment is the soul given to man by God, pure, and to be rendered back pure. ’Neue Beiträge zur Erlauterung der Evangelien aus Talmud und Midrasch,’ p. 252. For the first of these parables vide also Meuschen, ’Nov. Test, ex Talmud illustratum.’

One point in the variation of the later from the earlier parable we have purposely overlooked in the foregoing remarks; that, viz., relating to the guest without a wedding robe. In Luke’s parable there is nothing but welcome for the poor without exception, while in Matthew’s, judicial rigour is exercised even on one of them who is found unsuitably attired. At this point the difference between the two parables in didactic scope becomes specially apparent. We feel that such a feature would altogether mar the beauty of the former, whose aim throughout, and in every phrase, is to emphasise the graciousness of the kingdom. In the case of the latter, on the other hand, the wedding-robe scene, however unwelcome, is in keeping with the general tenor of the story. It, too, is a story of grace indeed, but of grace unworthily met, and manifesting itself in judicial severity against those who commit the wrong. And just because it is a parable of judgment, there must be judgment whenever it is called for. There must be no partiality. If the first invited are to be punished because they sin against grace in one way, the guests invited in the second place must be punished if they sin against grace in another way. The relevancy of the wedding-robe scene in a parable of judgment vindicating grace against injury can be legitimately denied only if it be impossible for the recipients of grace to commit any offence against it, which, as we shall see, is far enough from being the case. The lesson taught in the second scene is thoroughly germane to the lesson taught in the first. The first shows the judgment of those who despise and reject grace, the second the judgment of those who receive it, but in a disrespectful manner. The only question that can reasonably be raised is whether it is likely that Christ would combine the two lessons in one parable, and speak them at the same time and to the same audience. That is a question affecting the literary rather than the doctrinal character of the parable. It may plausibly be alleged that literary tact would dictate that only one of these lessons should be taught at one time, so as to insure that it should receive due attention; and as no such want of tact may be ascribed to Christ, it may hence be inferred that the combination is due to the Evangelist: another instance of Matthew’s habit of joining together sayings of kindred doctrinal import. If such were the case, we should have to admit that the joining has been very well done. But it is so well done, the dovetailing is so complete, and the parable is so manifestly a doctrinal unity, that we are constrained to doubt the alleged want of tact, and the inference founded on it. Why should not Christ have joined these two lessons together? Each gives point to the other, rather than weakens its force. The second, taken along with the first, says, that so determined is God that His grace shall not be scorned, that even those who receive it shall be punished for disrespect. The first, taken along with the second, says, if God be so severe towards those who despise His grace, let those who receive it, but not with due reverence, beware. The two together vindicate the Divine impartiality, and form a complete doctrine on the subject to which they relate. With these preliminary observations we proceed to consider in detail the two parts of the parable in which these distinct lessons are taught.

I. The judgment of grace despised set forth in the first scene (Mat 22:1-9) The emblem selected to represent the grace of the Kingdom is a fit one. It is that of a marriage-feast. The term γάμους might indeed mean any great feast resembling a wed ding-feast in magnitude and importance; as, for example, a feast celebrating the event of an heir to an estate arriving at his majority, or of a king delivering his kingdom into the hands of his son.[1] But the proper sense of the word is a marriage feast, and we can have the less hesitation in ascribing to it this meaning here, that the same emblem was employed by Jesus at other times to denote the kingdom of heaven, especially on the memorable occasion when He was interrogated concerning the neglect of fasting by His disciples. No fitter emblem could be found at once to exhibit in brightest lustre the benignity of God, and to test the spirit of men. It suggests the most intimate union possible between the Head of the Church and the members, that of wedlock; for the guests are also the Bride. And if men refuse an invitation to a marriage-feast, what favour are they likely to accept?—what more certain indication of ill-will can there be than such refusal?

[1] In Esther (Est 9:22) the word γἀμοι is used for the feast by which the Jews commemorated their deliverance from the plot of Haman. Kuinoel thinks the occasion referred to in the text is that of the delivery of the kingdom into the hands of the son. Meyer, on the other hand, contends that γἀμοι is never used for anything else than a marriage-feast.

Those who are invited to the wedding-feast are represented as persons already invited. The servants are sent forth to call τοὺς κεκλημένους. This term connects the New Testament history of Israel with that of the Old Testament, and denotes the position in which the chosen race were placed by the ministry of the prophets. For the prophets performed a double function. They were on the one hand servants of moral law, demanding in God’s name the fruit of genuine righteousness; and on the other servants of the promise or purpose of grace, preaching under various forms a Messianic Hope, an ideal bliss to come in the end of the days. Through this eloquent ministry of the Better Hope the people of Israel were called to participation in the Messianic wedding-feast. But they were merely called; while the fulfilment of Messianic prophecy tarried, it could not be ascertained how the offered privilege would be received. Their attitude towards the prophetic ministry of righteousness could be, and was, ascertained at once. Throughout her whole history the chosen people showed plainly that the Divine demand for righteousness was one she did not mean to comply with; and the damning verdict of the record is endorsed in the preceding parable of the Vinedressers. But all the while she might flatter herself that she was welcoming the Messianic Hope, and looking with eager expectancy for the advent of the era when all the glowing ideals of the prophets should be realised. Whether that was so indeed could only be tested when the era of fulfilment arrived, and the parable before us describes the result of the experiment. The test is supposed to apply not merely to the generation who witnessed the fulfilment, but to all the generations going before to whom the Messianic prophecies had been addressed. Here, as in the last parable, the moral solidarity of all the generations of Israel is recognised, and the spirit of the past is judged from the behaviour of the present. It is assumed that former generations would have acted as the one then living, if placed in the same circumstances. Therefore the servants are represented as calling the called, though the called of the prophetic era were distinct from the called of the era of fulfilment. The ’servants’ are Jesus and His disciples. The call covers the period of Christ’s personal ministry, and its substance is—The kingdom of heaven in all the fulness of grace is here; come, and participate in its joys. The Baptist we do not include among the servants, because he was a minister of law rather than of grace; like all the prophets doubtless performing a function in relation to the Messianic Hope, still belonging inspirit and tendency to the era of expectation rather than to the era of fulfilment. He had his place in the last parable as one of the many messengers whom God sent to demand fruit; but he has no place in this, except as one of those through whom the first preparatory call was addressed to Israel. On the other hand, we have no hesitation in including Jesus among the servants who are sent forth to invite the guests to the feast, long expected, now at hand, Though He be the son whose marriage is about to be celebrated, yet is He also a servant, the chief of the callers to the feast. There may be an incongruity in this union of two such opposite characters in the same person, but it is not greater than that resulting from the same parties being at once bride and guests. However incongruous, both combinations are matters of fact; nor do they mar the propriety of the parabolic narrative, for neither is allowed to appear therein. So far as the parable is concerned, the son and the servant are distinct, as are also the bride and the guests, though in reality the two in either case are one. The result of the invitation to the feast, briefly told, is that the invited are not inclined to come. In these mild, simple terms does Jesus describe the reception He had met with at the hands of His countrymen, as the Herald of the kingdom of grace. The account stands in striking contrast with the view presented in the last parable of the reception given to the last messenger of the owner of the vineyard, his son and heir. How is this contrast to be explained? Partly by the consideration that the two parables contemplate the history of Israel from different positions, the one looking on it from the Old Testament view point, and the other from the New. In the one case, what is done to the last messenger forms the climax of a long series of iniquities, and is therefore drawn in as dark colours as possible, and made the ground of Israel’s doom. In the other the New Testament history of Israel ceases to be the background and comes into the foreground, and so resolves itself into several distinct scenes, in which, in accordance with fact, she gets a second chance after her misbehaviour towards the ’son’ of the former parable, before being visited with her final doom. This second chance coincides with the ministry of the apostles, after Christ’s death and final departure from the earth. And as Israel was to get this second chance, a signal proof of the patience of God, and clearing His final severity of all appearance of undue rigour, it was fitting that her misbehaviour towards the first callers should be described in mitigated terms, to leave room, as it were, for a further day of grace. Had the first callers in this parable been treated as the heir was treated in the last, the proper sequel had been not a second invitation, but judgment.[1] But this explanation does not go to the root of the matter. It amounts to this, that the structure of the parable required the facts as to the reception given to the first callers to be understated, implying of course that the facts were worse than represented. The true key to the solution of the difficulty is to bear in mind the different capacities in which Jesus acts in the two parables. In the Vinedressers He, like all His predecessors, is a prophet of moral law, demanding in God’s name true righteousness. In the Wedding Feast He is a minister of grace preaching the gospel of the kingdom. Now His reception in these two ’distinct capacities was respectively as represented. It was as a prophet of duty that He was maltreated by His countrymen. He provoked them to wrath by His exposure of their sham sanctities in punctilious performance of ritual ablutions, fastings, prayers, tithe-paying, &c., accompanied by scandalous neglect of the great matters of the law. The key to the crucifixion is utterances by the Prophet of Nazareth such as those collected together in the great antipharisaic discourse in the twenty-fourth chapter of Matthew. On the other hand, the reception given to Jesus as the Minister of grace was just that indicated in our parable. He invited His countrymen to a great feast and they would not come. They did not hate Him or visit Him with violence for His invitations. They simply were not attracted by what He offered, and turned heedless away, as from an idle dreamer. At times the boon He held up to view for a moment appeared tempting,—a kingdom and a kingship of this world, real and worth having; but the deluded soon discovered that they were mistaken, to their disappointment and disgust. In this indifference towards the Minister of grace the people of Israel were far less culpable than in their hostility to the Prophet of law. For righteousness was a thing familiar to them. It was their own watchword and ’way.’ But the kingdom of heaven, as Jesus presented it, was a new phenomenon, strange puzzling even to honest minds, even to the Baptist himself. Shyness, doubt, misunderstanding for a time were pardonable, and were so regarded by Jesus. He did not denounce those who stood in doubt of this new movement He only said, "Blessed is he that is not offended in Me." The parable before us is in full sympathy with that considerate, gentle utterance. Of those to whom the Author of the parable preached the gospel of the kingdom it is said simply they were not willing to come. And their unwillingness is, by implication, treated as a pardonable misunderstanding when the king is represented as sending forth other servants to renew the invitations, with instructions to appraise the feast, so as to awaken desire. It is a notable instance of the ’sweet reasonableness’ of Christ, as well as a faithful reflection of the patience of God.

[1] The above is, in effect, Goebel’s view. The ’other servants,’ who receive this new commission, are of course the apostles, whom Jesus had chosen to carry on His work after He left the world, and of whose agency He could not but think much at this time when His own end was so near. The kingdom of heaven was not to disappear when He personally left the world; it would go on its course in spite of all that men might do to Himself, not to say in consequence thereof, and the preaching of His companions whom He had sought to embue with His spirit, would give Israel another opportunity of receiving thankfully the things freely bestowed by God. Very notable, in connection with the mission of the apostles, is the special direction given to the second set of ’callers’: "Say to those invited, ’Behold, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and fed beasts slain, and all things ready; come to the feast.’" The second callers’ are not merely to invite to, they are to commend the feast, with a view to create desire. The fact suggests a contrast between the ministry of Christ and that of His apostles. The apostles differed from their Master in two respects. They were more aggressive or urgent in their manner of preaching, and they preached a more developed gospel. Jesus went forth into the world and said quietly The kingdom is come. Nor did He explain fully or elaborately wherein the kingdom consisted, and what blessings it brought; at most He conveyed only hints of these by aphorism or parable, or by kind words and deeds to sinful and sorrowful men. He did not strive, or cry, nor did any one hear His voice in the streets. He did not aim at teaching the multitude the mysteries of the kingdom, but spoke these into the ear of a select few. These privileged ones, on the other hand, when the time arrived for commencing their apostolic career, did not appear before the world as imitators of their Master. They did not affect His calm, lofty tone, they did not speak in parables, they did not select from the crowd- a band of disciples to be taught an esoteric doctrine. They became street preachers in temper and style, they spoke from the house-top, they addressed the crowd, they proclaimed a more explicit, definite, common-place gospel of forgiveness and salvation from wrath, talked as it were of oxen and fed beasts and the other accompaniments of a feast, with an eloquence less dignified but more fitted to impress the million with a sense of the riches of Divine grace.[1]

[1] Beyond this general idea no significance is to be attached to the ταῶροι and σιτιστὰ. Theophylact makes the ταῶροι signify the Old Testament, and the σιτιστὰ the New. The interpretation in the latter case he justifies by the consideration that loaves are offered on the altar which are properly failed σιτιστὰ, as made from wheat. And what was to be the result of this new aggressive declamatory ministry? Surely it will be more satisfactory than that of the first servants, to which all but a few simple folks turned a deaf ear? Alas, no! The result of this second effort was to be worse rather than better. The majority were to imitate the indifference of their predecessors, and the rest were to be guilty of insolence and violence towards the King’s messengers. Such is the picture presented in the words of our parable. "They went away, taking no heed; one to his own field, another to his merchandise, and the rest laid hold of his servants, and treated them shamefully and killed them." It is in a few words a correct description of the treatment received by the apostles at the hands of the Jews. The bulk of the people, preoccupied with secular affairs, finding their satisfaction in possessions, or in the pursuit of gain,[1] took no interest in the spiritual goods which the preachers of the gospel brought within their reach. The heads of the nation, whom we may assume to be represented by ’the others’ in the parable, persecuted the missionaries of the new religion, fearing evil consequences from its progress to the established civil and religious order. So we learn from the familiar narratives of the Acts of the Apostles. That Christ should predict so distinctly beforehand what was to happen cannot appear surprising, as it scarcely needed prophetic prescience to enable Him to do so. He had but to reason from what happened to the Master to what would happen to disciples. For though it be true that the indignities which He suffered at the hands of men came upon Him rather as a prophet of law than as a minister of grace, yet His experience contained ominous indications of the antagonism which might be provoked even by the bringer of good tidings when he involuntarily offended against the prejudices of his hearers. How significant in this connection the incidents in the synagogue of Nazareth recorded by the Evangelist Luke.[2] Jesus discourses on the acceptable year of the Lord in ’words of grace’ which excite general admiration; yet in a few minutes after His life is endangered by one or two historical references, which wound the self-love of villagers animated by the bigoted exclusive spirit of their race. That sudden ebullition of patriotic wrath was prophetic of the fate which awaited the heralds of the new era of grace at the hands of Jewish pride. For, however acceptable the good tidings might be in themselves, it would be impossible to publish them without in some way giving offence. And as time went on offences would increase. If the Nazarenes persecuted their fellow-townsman, the Jewish people were sure to persecute more bitterly His followers while engaged in their apostolic calling, and that on account precisely of those characteristics by which their ministry was distinguished from His; its greater aggressiveness, and its more explicit style of announcement. More energetic action would provoke more violent reaction, and a more developed and intelligible gospel would provoke more emphatic contradiction. When the gospel of the kingdom, set forth in enigmatic aphorisms, took the form of a gospel of salvation by a crucified man, offences would not be wanting! It was a matter of course, therefore, that the second class of servants should be insulted, assaulted, imprisoned, and even put in danger of their lives. And it was natural that, in a parable setting forth the judgment of Israel for her contempt of grace, allusion should be made to these prospective experiences to make it clear that, on every ground, the guilty nation was ripe for doom. For a people not only persistently negligent of duty, and practising habitual violence against those who reminded it of its obligations, but equally insensible to God’s overtures of mercy, and equally insolent towards the ministers of reconciliation, what could be hoped? Even Paul, patriot though he was, capable of wishing himself accursed for his countrymen’s sake, was forced to despair, and to describe Israel as a people which despising the riches of God’s grace, forbearance, and long-suffering, and misunderstanding their meaning with a hardened, impenitent heart, treasured up for itself wrath in the day of wrath and of the revelation of the righteous judgment of God.[3]

[1] The words τἰς τὸν ἴδιόν suggest the idea of landed property.

[2] Luk 4:16

[3] Rom 2:4-5. This wrath the parable proceeds to describe in these terms: "But the king was angry; and sending his armies, he destroyed those murderers and burned their city."[1] The words foreshadow the ruin of the Jewish state and the holy city, a generation later, by the might of imperial Rome, employed by Providence to punish Israel for her sins. It is startling to find so distinct an anticipation of the event in a parable spoken so long beforehand. But Christ says here only what he repeated with equal distinctness in the discourse on the last things in a subsequent chapter of the same Gospel;[2] even as in the description of the fate awaiting the apostles He but briefly hints what, on various occasions, He had already said to His disciples by way of forewarning,[3] and was to say again in the farewell discourse.[4]

[1] Mat 22:7.

[2] Mat 24:1-51.

[3] Mat 10:1-42; Mat 16:1-28.

[4] John 16:1-33. The concluding sentence of the first part of the parable intimates the king’s resolve to transfer his favour from those who had been guilty of such grievous misconduct to such as were more likely to value them. This purpose, while an act of grace towards those next to be called, is an act of judgment towards the first invited. It is the natural sequel of the dread visitation spoken of just before. Israel, ruined as a nation, is at the same time to be cast off as a people; as no longer worthy of the prerogatives and privileges of the elect race. Of these indeed she had never been worthy, but in view of her contempt of God’s grace, and judicial blindness in regard to her spiritual opportunities, her demerit might be spoken of with an emphasis that in other circumstances might appear excessive. By such behaviour as the parable depicts, the Jewish people, as Paul declared in the synagogue of Antioch, judged themselves unworthy of eternal life, and justified the transference of despised privilege to the Gentiles.[1] Of this transference our parable speaks in very general terms. "Go ye," says the king to his servants, "to the outlets of the ways, and call to the marriage feast whomsoever ye find." We have already alluded to the vagueness of the expression employed to denote the quarters where the new guests are to be found. Much difference of opinion prevails as to its meaning, and many interpreters express their views in a tone of dogmatism which is altogether unwarrantable. Some are sure that the reference is to the streets or squares of a city,[2] others pronounce with great confidence in favour of the country roads, or crossings of the highways.[3] One asserts that the city in which the new guests are to be sought is the same as that which is to be burned;[4] another informs us that it is another city, that of the king; "not Jerusalem, but God’s world."[5] There is nothing in the text to justify such confidence, or to help us to a certain conclusion. The expression is vague; perhaps it is purposely so; it may have been selected to embrace in its scope the localities visited in the two missions to the poor in Luke’s parable—the streets and lanes, and likewise the highways and hedges. The single mission to the poor in Matthew’s parable is another point in which it differs from Luke’s. Both have a double mission; but Matthew’s is to the first called, while Luke’s is to those called in the second place. This difference is to be accounted for in the same way as all the rest; viz. by the consideration that the parable before us is a parable of judgment. Its aim is not to set forth with distinctness and emphasis God’s purpose of grace to the outlying peoples, but to justify the withdrawal of His grace from the chosen race. Therefore the calling of those without is referred to only in indefinite terms: even as in the close of the parable of the Vinedressers, where it is said that the kingdom of God should be taken from Israel, and given to a nation (ἔθνει) yielding the fruits thereof.[6] We shall best reflect the spirit of the parable by allowing the terms to remain indefinite, and not binding them down to any particular reference. If the Speaker had meant to fix the reference down either to town or country, to the Jewish or the Gentile world, He could easily have done so, as in the parable of the Supper, where one set of phrases are employed clearly referring to the town, and then another as clearly referring to the country. Good, or at least plausible, arguments have been advanced by respectable authorities on both sides of the question, and that fact suggests that the wisest course may be to be on both sides. The phrase, the outlets of the ways, has a suggestive vagueness about it which stimulates the imagination, and craves room and scope and largeness of interpretation, so that it may embrace at once the outcasts of Israel and the Pagans. The king’s dining-hall was ample, and the servants were to bring as many as they could find, and there are plenty of servants about a king’s palace to search for guests in all directions, in town or country. This, accordingly, the servants seem to have done; for it is written that they went out into the ways (ὁδοὺς), the peculiar expression in their directions not being repeated in the record of the execution.[7]

[1] Acts 13:46.

[2] Kypke, Kuinoel, Trench, &c.

[3] Fritsche after Fischer, De Wette, Meyer, Goebel.

[4] Trench.

[5] Alford.

[6] Mat 21:43.

[7] Farrar (’Life of Christ’) finds in this a delicate "reference to the imperfect work of human, agents," the words within inverted commas being quoted from ’Lightfoot on Revision,’ p. 68. We would rather find in the change of expression a tacit admission that the phrase first used, while suitable enough in the mouth of the king giving general instructions, was too vague to be used with propriety in describing what was actually done.

II. The judgment of grace abused The tenth verse appropriately introduces the new tableau of the guest without a wedding-robe. That a fresh start in the narration, with a distinct didactic aim, is being made is apparent from the simple fact that the messengers who go out to collect guests from the highways are spoken of as those servants (οἱ δοῦλοι ἐκεῖνοι). If the verse had been merely the conclusion of the preceding narrative, the servants would have been the appropriate expression.[1] But that the story is about to take a new turn is chiefly indicated by the significant expression employed to characterise the guests gathered together by this mission. Those servants, we read, going forth, collected together all whom they found, both bad and good. We must not, with Bengel, minimise the force of the phrase, as if it were a proverbial expression signifying ’indiscriminately.’ It is intended to emphasise the fact that the invitation was indiscriminate with special reference to the moral character or reputation of the parties, and that with an obvious regard to the scene which follows in the wedding-chamber. The terms applied to the guests are all the more significant when compared with those employed in the corresponding parable in Luke. There what is accentuated is the abject poverty of the guests. It is the children of misery and want that are invited; the desperately needy, the very beggars on the highway, when it is found that there is still room. Here, on the other hand, there is no reference to poverty; a fact overlooked by many commentators, with the result that unnecessary difficulty is introduced into the part of the parable relating to the wedding-robe. How unreasonable, it is argued, to visit with severe penalties the want of such a robe on the part of a poor man, who was not in possession of one or able to purchase one; and to get over the difficulty it is deemed necessary to assume that the guests must have been furnished with wedding-attire out of the royal wardrobes. We shall come to that question by and by; meantime, let it be noted that there is not a word about poverty in the text. The guests are not a crowd of paupers and beggars; they are a congregation of men and women got together without reference to their moral antecedents. In the esteem of society some of them might be good, and some bad; but of such distinctions the servants took no account. They invited all they met without question or hesitation as to character or antecedents; although it might be evident at a glance from dress, features, and bearing, that some were suspicious enough. Doubtless, among the invited would be some poor,—probably the majority were of that class; but of that fact no note is taken. What is remarked on is that the guests were a motley crew as to character; some respectable, others disreputable: ragged not in their outward attire, but in their name and fame, like the Corinthian Church of after days, of which Paul remarked: "Such were some of you":[2] drunkards, adulterers, thieves, and the like.

[1] So Goebel.

[2] 1Co 6:11. When we realise distinctly the import of the phrase "bad and good," we are prepared for some such offence as is reported in the sequel. In such a crowd, swept together from street and highway, rudeness, irreverence, insensibility to the claims of the royal presence and the solemn occasion might be looked for. These guests have not been accustomed to appear in such a place, and it will be strange indeed if they comport themselves, without exception, as becomes a palace and a royal marriage. We should rather expect irreverence to be the rule, and decorum the exception. Yet in the parable only one of the guests appears guilty of rudeness. Why is this? Because if the parable at this point had followed natural probability, there would have been a risk of guests being few, a great difficulty in getting the feast-chamber filled. The chamber was filled with guests because the messengers invited all regardless of antecedents; but it might have been emptied again, if the scrutiny had complied with the requirements of probability. Many were called, but few might have been allowed to remain. To avoid this result, and to keep the chamber full, the number of offenders is reduced to one.[1] One was enough to suggest the fact, and illustrate the principle of scrutiny. In consequence of this restriction, the representation of the parable, as has been remarked, is not in keeping with the concluding apophthegm:[2] ’ "Many are called, but few are chosen"—all being chosen but one. The incongruity cannot be helped, for the feast must go on with a number of guests answering to the importance of the occasion. Therefore one guest is selected to represent a class.

[1] One or two interpreters have found the explanation in the supposition that Christ had Judas Iscariot in view. Even Olshausen speaks of this prosaic hypothesis as possible.

[2] D’Eichthal, ’Les Evangiles. When we consider how far short the parabolic statement at this point comes of natural likelihood, we see that it cannot have been the intention of Christ to represent the king as entering the chamber with the express purpose of scrutinising the guests. He enters not to scrutinise but to welcome; any other supposition would give to his appearance among his guests an ungracious aspect, altogether out of keeping with the occasion. The discovery of a man without a wedding-robe is an accident, an unpleasant incident not looked for beforehand, though a thing which cannot be overlooked once it has been observed. Had the intention been to make the king enter for the purpose of a scrutiny, it would have been necessary either greatly to multiply the numbers, to give the scrutiny an aspect at once of reality and of probability, or to make the concluding aphorism run, Many are called, but not all are chosen. But now, what is the offence of which the solitary representative of the disapproved is guilty? We can have no difficulty in answering the question if we bear in mind the composition of the multitude collected in the marriage-chamber. Answers very wide of the mark have been returned by commentators approaching the subject from the dogmatic, instead of the natural and historical, point of view. The sin of the offending guest, we are told variously, is self-righteousness,[1] disloyalty,[2] intrusion into a feast to which he has not been invited.[3] All these views are connected with a theory as to the wedding-garment being the gift of the king. The guest was self-righteous, because he preferred his own garment to that offered him from the royal wardrobe; he was disloyal, because he refused the garment which etiquette required all guests to receive and wear, in mere rudeness and wantonness; he was an intruder, because had he been invited he would doubtless have been offered a wedding-robe, and of course would have put it on. These suggestions are all out of keeping with the circumstances. Self-righteousness is not the sin which besets people such as those guests swept indiscriminately from street and road. As little is disloyalty to be imputed without urgent reason to men who have so far shown loyalty by coming to the feast in response to the invitation. And as for the idea that the offending guest was an uninvited intruder, it is simply absurd. Merely to hear of the feast, even at second-hand, was to be invited, for the commission to the servants was to bring as many as they could find. "Let him that heareth say come, and whosoever will, let him take of the water of life freely."

[1] Arndt, Alford.

[2] Arnot.

[3] Baumgarten-Crusius. Of what kind of fault were those guests likely to be guilty? Surely of unmannerliness, coming without decoration, not from want of loyal feeling, or from conceit, or because they had no suitable apparel, but from pure want of thought and refined feeling. The moral fault answering to this is an unethical license, taking advantage of God’s goodness, without taking pains to cultivate the virtue that becomes those who are admitted into close relations with the Divine Being. This is one of two forms under which men may sin against grace. It is the form under which those can so sin who accept God’s invitations; the other being that under which those offend who decline the invitations. Paul speaks of both offences in his Epistle to the Romans. The one, that of the refusers of God’s invitations, he calls despising God’s grace, which he charges upon the self-righteous Jews;[1] the other he calls sinning because grace abounds,[2] which is the sin of what we might describe as unregenerate faith.

[1] Rom 2:4.

[2] Rom 6:1. That Jesus should take occasion to enter a protest against this sin, the licentious abuse of grace, as well as against the other offence, proud contempt of grace, cannot appear surprising. For though He ever gave great prominence to the gracious character of the kingdom, He was always zealous likewise for its righteousness. He set forth the kingdom as a kingdom of grace to begin with, because He wished it to be a kingdom of righteousness to end with. He deemed the proclamation of free grace the best way to produce holiness. If He offered the grace of God to the chief of sinners, it was because He believed that such might become the chief of saints; on the principle that much forgiveness breeds much love. The lesson of the wedding-robe is thus in keeping with the general spirit of His teaching. And let it be observed that this is not the only parable in which a zealous regard to the interests of holiness is manifested. The same zeal comes out, not so obtrusively perhaps, but not less unmistakably, in the parables of the Fig-tree and the Vinedressers. The barren tree is removed because it unprofitably occupies the ground, which implies that any tree which is planted in its place is put there for the purpose of bringing forth fruit. Then in the sentences appended to the Vinedressers, it is stated that the kingdom of God is to be taken from the Jews and given to a nation producing the fruits thereof. The broad lesson then of the sub-parable of the Wedding-robe is that the recipients of Divine grace must live worthily of their privilege. The wedding-robe represents Christian holiness, and the demand is that all believers in the gospel shall sedulously cultivate it. This being so, it is useless to discuss, as a matter of life and death, the question whether, according to ancient custom, the wedding-robe was a gift of the king. The point is of no consequence to the didactic significance of the parable, but merely a curious question of Biblical archaeology. So far as we can judge from the extracts cited by commentators from works relating to Oriental customs, we should say that a probable case has been made out in favour of the alleged custom. But that is not enough to justify us in making that custom the hinge of the interpretation. Had the didactic significance of the wedding-robe turned on its being a gift, the fact that it was presented to each guest to be worn on the occasion would have been mentioned.[1] It will not do to say that the custom was so familiar to Christ’s audience that the point might be taken for granted. Facts are not specified or omitted in parables according to the ignorance or the knowledge of hearers, but according as they do or do not bear on the purpose of the story. Thus the parable of Dives passes over the piety of Lazarus, not because it might be assumed as known but because the mention of it would have been an irrelevance. Similarly here: suppose it were not a matter of inference merely, but a certainty that the wedding-garment was a robe similar to the kaftan presented now in the East by kings to persons appearing before them, the absence of all allusion to the custom must be held to be conclusive evidence that it is irrelevant to the lesson intended to be taught. The silence means that the Speaker wishes to accentuate the duty of each guest seeing to it that he appeared at the feast in proper attire. In short, as has been remarked, prominence is given to the ethical view-point which emphasises man’s responsibility, rather than the religious which represents all as depending on God.[2] To prove ever so cogently that the wedding-garment came from the king’s stores does not invalidate this statement, but only confirms it.[3] [1] So Meyer and Neander (’Life of Christ’), Bleek, &c.

[2] De Wette.

[3] While a circumstance of such didactic importance as that the wedding-garment was a loan from the king could not properly be omitted, it is otherwise with the circumstance that the guests gathered from the highways were allowed an opportunity to make a change of raiment somehow. That might be taken for granted as a matter of course. Storr, while pointing this out, yet concurs in the opinion that it is not necessary to determine whence the wedding-garment was to be procured; the intention being to teach merely the general lesson that the soul must be clothed anew with righteousness, not the method of procuring the necessary vesture (’De Parabolis Christi,’ translated in the ’Biblical Cabinet,’ vol. ix.). The conclusion to which these observations point is, that. there is no foundation in the parable for the good old Protestant interpretation, according to ’which the wedding-garment is the righteousness of God given to faith. Vestis est justitia Christ, says the devout and scholarly Bengel, and we should gladly agree with him; but we feel that the idea of an objective righteousness given to faith lies outside the scope of this parable, and, indeed, except in the most general form, is not to be found in the whole system of truth contained in the records of our Lord’s teaching.[1] That idea is distinctively Pauline. It is the form under which he presents to view the summum bonum, or the gift of grace. The equivalent in Christ’s teaching is the kingdom of God. These two ideas are not opposed to each other; on the contrary, they are intimately related, and in full sympathy with each other. Still their relation is one of co-ordination, not of subordination. The righteousness of God is not, as is implied in Bengel’s interpretation of the wedding-garment, a detail under the general head of the kingdom of God. It is another name for the same thing. The doctrine of Christ and that of Paul are essentially one. In both, man’s relation to God is represented as based upon grace. That view is implied in this parable; but it is important to note at what point it comes in. The grace of the kingdom is set forth by the selection of a wedding-feast to be its emblem. The wedding-robe represents the holiness of the kingdom which ought to accompany and flow from the reception of grace. Its equivalent in the Pauline system is not the righteousness of faith, which answers to the feast in the parable, but those parts of the Apostle’s teaching in which he insists on holiness as the outcome of faith in God’s grace, and so guards his doctrine against objections springing out of concern for ethical interests. The passages in Paul’s writings which come nearest in import to the sub-parable of the Wedding-garment are those in his Epistle to the Romans where he protests against the impious idea that we may sin because grace abounds,[2] and warns the Gentile believers to beware lest through spiritual shortcomings the same fate befall them—the wild olive branches, which had overtaken the natural branches, the elect people of Israel.[3]

[1] The nearest approach to it in the Synoptical Gospels is in the expressions, "The kingdom of God, and His righteousness" (Mat 6:33); and "Justified rather than the other" (Luk 18:14).

[2] Rom 6:1.

[3] Rom 11:16-22. We may here, at the conclusion of the discussion as to the wedding-garment, note that in the ’Clementine Homilies,’ viii. 22, the garment is supposed to be Baptism: ἐνδυμα γάμου, ὅπερ ἐστὶν βάπτισμα. (In the same place the διεξόδοι τῶν ὀδῶν are identified with the Gentile world, ἐκἐλευσεν ἡμῖν, εἰς τὰς· διεξόδους τῶν ὀδῶν ἐλθοῦσιν, ὅ ἐστὶν πρὸς ὑμᾷς.) The Fathers generally made the wedding-robe holiness. Thus Origen Calls it τὸ ὕφασμα τῆς ἄρετης.

We pass now to the sequel of the scene. The king saith to the offending guest: "Friend, how camest thou hither not having a wedding-garment?" The guilty one made no reply; in the expressive language of the parable he was muzzled. His speechlessness was the product of confusion in the august presence of the king. Till that moment the habit of irreverence had prevailed; for he had not realised had never even thought, what it was to be confronted with royalty. But when the king actually appears, fixes his eye on him and speaks to him, he is confounded and struck dumb. Thus may the manner of the man be most naturally explained. It is unnecessary to ascribe to him any deliberate intention to insult by any act of rudeness or disloyalty. His offence was one of thoughtlessness, as was likely to be the case in a man of his class. The severity of his punishment naturally tempts us to make his fault appear as aggravated as possible by laying stress on every word that can be supposed to imply deliberate purpose,[1] and by imagining circumstances fitted to deprive him of all excuse, such as that the missing article of apparel was simply an inexpensive badge or symbol which the poorest could have procured for himself.[2] But instead of thus striving to magnify the offender’s criminality, it is better to direct attention to the solemn truth that even sins of thoughtlessness are no light matters in those who bear the Christian name, and profess to believe in God’s grace. In this connection it is important to remember that it is this class of sins the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews seems to have in view when he exhorts his readers to follow peace with all men, and holiness as an indispensable condition of seeing God. For he goes on immediately to refer to Esau as the type of those who through neglect of holiness fall short of the grace of God. The sin of Esau was heedlessness. He was dying of hunger, and what was a birthright to a starving man? When appetite was satisfied he regretted his rash, thoughtless act, for he had not deliberately despised his birthright. The writer of the Epistle would have his brethren understand that through nothing worse than such moral rudeness might Christians miss salvation. And that is the lesson taught in our parable. We see here a man who falls from the king’s grace not through self-righteous pride, or bold disloyalty, or deliberate disrespect, but by the rude behaviour of one who has never been accustomed to restraint, and who without thought carries his unmannerly ways into the royal presence.

[1] Thus Trench points out that the particle of negation in the king’s question is not οῦ, as in the previous verse, but μὴ. μὴ ἔχων ἔνδυμα γάμομ not having (and knowing that thou hadst not) a wedding-garment.

[2] So Arnot, who refers in illustration to the bride’s favour given to guests at marriages in this country. The doom of one guilty of such an offence, as described in the parable, appears unduly severe. Enough for such an one, we are inclined to think, that he be unceremoniously turned out of a company in which he is not fit to appear. Was it worth while, one is apt to ask, for the king to get angry over the unmannerliness of this clown who had strayed into the marriage-hall, or to issue such peremptory instructions as to how his ministers should deal with him? Was not such wrath and such preciseness undignified in a royal person? Certainly, on first thought, it does seem so. At the very least the king’s action seems to stand in need of apology, and the apology that comes readiest is that the king’s temper has been so ruffled by the contempt of the first invited that he is naturally very jealous of any fresh manifestations of irreverence, and prone to resentment when such appear. And such an explanation of the king’s behaviour is quite legitimate, for we are not bound to vindicate the actions of characters in parables from all charges of infirmity. In studying the parable of the Great Feast in Luke’s Gospel we saw that the motive of the host for filling his dining-hall with beggars from the highways was by no means an elevated one. Even so here we may imagine the king to be simply giving way to one of those sudden ebullitions of anger in which eastern rulers so frequently indulge, under whose influence they issue the most ruthless orders on comparatively slight provocation. In this way we should at all events justify the parabolic representation as in accord with natural probability. But the royal wrath and the order in which it issues have more than picturesque significance. They convey the thought that a heedless life on the part of a believer in Divine grace may be attended with fatal consequences; the same thought which Paul sought to impress on the Corinthians, and the writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews on Jewish Christians, by reminding them of the melancholy fate which overtook the people of Israel in the wilderness, notwithstanding that they had participated in the grace of Jehovah in connection with the Exodus.[1] The passages in which these solemn warnings are given are the best possible commentary on the command of the king. They refer to historical facts which prove that what seem very pardonable sins of unbelief, murmuring, and hankering after forbidden enjoyments, may be mercilessly punished, leaving no room for repentance, even though it be sought carefully and with tears. Christ, ever faithful, and truly desirous of the salvation of all His followers, draws His picture in accordance with the facts of experience, at the risk of seeming to make God appear a harsh tyrant, and Himself less pitiful than we love to think Him. For if, as we have no reason to doubt, the concluding reflections of the parable were spoken by Him, then He must be understood as acquiescing in the rigour of Providence. "There shall be the weeping and the gnashing of teeth," says He, in reference to the ejected guest; suggesting the picture of a poor wight lying in darkness bound and helpless, lamenting his exclusion from joy, and the folly which occasioned it. "Many are called, but few chosen," He adds, to suggest that the sad fate of the one may befall many, the number of the heedless being at all times great.

[1] 1Co 10:1-33; Heb 3:1-19.