Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Today’s text

Matthew 22:1-4

Jesus began to speak to them in parables once again, 'The kingdom of Heaven may be compared to a king who gave a feast for his son's wedding. He sent his servants to call those who had been invited, but they would not come. Next he sent some more servants with the words, "Tell those who have been invited: Look, my banquet is all prepared, my oxen and fattened cattle have been slaughtered, everything is ready. Come to the wedding."

Reflection

You want me, Lord. You want all of us at the table, eating and drinking, celebrating the goodness of feeling alive.

Even now, I see myself gathered at the feast amid the commotion of many others. Smiles light every face. Hearts expand with startling joy, exceeding our expectation of what was possible to know and feel.

I raise my glass high to toast the raucous tumult of sheer abandonment.

So what is this, Lord, an image of the future?

I see into that future every time I lift the bread and the cup and speak of the day when we shall eat the meal in the fullness of your presence. I see it with my own eyes, sometimes tripping over myself to get to the table and exclaim the holy words again, hoping that a few others may see it, too.

I want this future now. I want to taste and feel it today amid whatever else may come.

I am hungry for the celebration and the laughter. I want the companionship and the complete and unwarranted acceptance of my and every soul at your table of grace.

I want this awareness to wash over my soul and cleanse me from every discouragement, every sadness, every wound that casts my eyes toward the dust.

I want to feel and be finally and fully alive. This can happen in only one place, and yet in every place: as I find myself at your table of feasting … even if I am driving my car, listening to another soul, working at my desk … or writing these words.

So let the feast of your blessed future begin here and now with me, in the awareness that, today, you want me, you hunger for me, you crave my nearness, my attention, my love, my joy. Today and everyday.

Today, you chase me along the ways of my life, hoping, praying that I may see that the banquet of your nearness is now.

And when I do, I can be joy and love amid the grayness that clouds human souls. And maybe they, too, can join the laughter of tomorrow … today.

Pr. David L. Miller