Late reflections on the Great Banquet Sermon

I preached a sermon earlier this year where I kicked the written manuscript and did something entirely different (see it here)...but I never finished the reflection.

While painting I noticed that:

• Watercolors don't generally give way to hard stark lines, so the images (and ideas) play themselves out with gentleness. It's a slow, formational becoming--much like Christian discipleship. I suppose written manuscripts work this way too, but writing uses stark words like cut and delete. A painted manuscript allows things to brush and flow together--meaning mistakes aren't erased. They're gently reformed. Redeemed.
• In painting this, I started with the table--and the one at the table who welcomed others in (perhaps because my theology starts with God's hospitality and the church's sacramental call to share that grace with the world?). The empty stool is there to signify welcome, room, invitation.
• We're preparing for Lent, so I put a purple altar cloth on the table. I decided, too, to put a pool of purple/blue surrounding that table (which kind of became a mark of sitting at the table--sitting in the pool of grace which spills over into the world). So when I painted the person sitting in front of the table, I surrounded them with purple too (the image of sanctifying grace, if you will). ...also, I painted this scene out of order (maybe because I'm focused more on 'my church' than on 'the world'?). 
• When I added the person who rejected the invitation and turned away from the banquet (the person in the left corner) their robe was in brows and greys instead of the bright, whitish blue. However, I made the intentional decision to still carry purple gently into that corner because no one, no one, is without God's grace.
• The person in the far right corner--the one invited from the"highways and hedges" who might feel forgotten or far away--that person has the same pool of purple.
• The servant figure inviting the guests definitely has the bright purple connection too (seen more vibrantly, of course). 

After painting, I saw:

• Painting the parable allowed me to see scripture differently. Normally, Jesus' story of the great banquet is seen as sequential, scene-by-scene (the servant invites those who reject the invitation, and then others are invited in, and then even more are invited in). Painting the whole story held everyone in remembrance--together. Yes, there are those who sit at the table, but those who rejected the invitation don't cease to exist (prodigal son, anyone?).  Likewise, it's important to remember than even when we are at the table, there are still others who haven't made it there yet--and there's still room (lost sheep? eh? eh?). 
• There's also something beautiful about seeing the story at a glance and recognizing that we are invited into the scene, too. When you see it, you're invited into the story.
• It wasn't until I finished the painting and stepped back that I realized the characters with the brightest connection to grace--the host at the table, the one sitting and celebrating, and the one going forth to serve--they formed a Trinitarian image. The Father hosts, the Spirit dwells in holiness (indwelling in us), and the Son--the servant--goes forth to invite others in.

In preaching:

• My sermon was very simple: Where are you sitting in this story? Is it well with your soul there? Where should you be sitting?

• Instead of showing the manuscript to my congregation (we don't have screens in our traditional services) I decided to 'enact' or recreate it. I asked for five volunteers and they improvised a 'posture' for each character in the scene:(e.g. "the person in the church who stands as host, actively welcoming others...what might that look like?" My volunteer stood behind the altar, arms wide. "Someone who rejects God, intentionally or accidentally because they're too busy or something has upset them?" the volunteer turned AWAY from the altar, arms crossed...)
• We did this until we had the parable depicted in a freeze-frame scene--discussing the pros and cons of each posture (the person at the table might forget to welcome others in; the congregational host or outreaching servant might forget their own need to sit and celebrate with God; etc...)

Where are you sitting in this story? Is it well with your soul there? Where might God be calling you?

My only lament is that this was not a Communion Sunday.