This is the sermon preached by Vicar Rhonda Lee at the Great Vigil at St. Joseph's on Easter Eve 2009. The text is Isaiah 55: 1-11.

“Everyone who thirsts,
come to the waters,
and you that have no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without
price.”

By human standards, this passage from Isaiah is a very strange invitation.

It’s addressed to “everyone,” answering the ubiquitous questions about who else will be there, and whether children are included. And not just “everyone” is invited, but, more specifically, “everyone who thirsts,” and those “that have no money.” An open bar and all-you-can-eat buffet for people who don’t eat out: the host is either extremely wealthy, unusually generous, or both.

There are a couple of things the invitation doesn’t mention. There’s nothing about gifts: no indication of where the host is registered. Not even a discreet line of small type stating “no gifts please,” or suggesting a donation to your favorite charity instead. Perhaps because those who can’t afford food and drink are specifically invited, this invitation doesn’t specify the type of attire guests are expected to wear.

This really is a very strange invitation.

It sounds strange to us, and it would have sounded strange twenty-five hundred years ago when God issued it through the prophet Isaiah. Back then, God said, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways,” and that’s still true.

The invitation to God’s banquet isn’t just strange. It’s threatening to anyone who would rather keep their guest lists exclusive—and all of us, if we’re honest, fall into that category at some time or another. If everyone’s invited, that includes not only Democrats and Republicans, but ex-wives and former lovers too. Debutantes and street people. Foreigners and fellow citizens: God specifically says that the heralds of the banquet “shall call nations that you do not know, and nations that do not know you…” Notorious sinners, and those who have simply offended us. Everyone’s invited. All our host asks is that guests heed this call, “let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts,” and trust in God’s generous promise that, as Isaiah says, “he will abundantly pardon.” That pardon is good news to everyone who knows herself to be a sinner, but it feels like bad news at those moments when we can’t imagine sharing a table with him—whoever he may be.

If the breadth of the invitation to this banquet challenges us personally, it’s also a political threat. Crowds of people gathering in one place for no commercial purpose, without a permit? That’s called loitering in most places, and sedition in many; depending on how the offense is defined, it may be punishable by a fine, jail term, or death. Giving away wine, milk, and food to any and all who show up? Add public drunkenness, contributing to the delinquency of minors, and undermining the moral fiber of the poor to the list of charges. Call the Health Department while you’re at it, because that banquet’s a hazard. And by the way, who’s going to do the dishes afterward?

It’s true: God’s thoughts are not our thoughts, and our ways are not God’s ways.

That’s the lesson of the resurrection. That’s the lesson of baptism. By the standards of the world, God’s ways don’t make sense; they’re not rational, reasonable, or profitable. But for us as a Christian community, those paradoxical ways are the wellspring of joy and compassionate love.

That’s why we believe that our sister Kenetta was drowned in water and the Holy Spirit tonight, even though most of her body stayed dry. That’s why we’ve been looking forward to her death for months, and why we now proclaim that this adult woman has just been born.

Our ways are not God’s ways. But, by divine grace God’s thoughts have been revealed to us in Scripture; God’s love has been shown to us in the law and the prophets, and made incarnate in Jesus Christ. God’s ways can become our ways, when we accept the mysterious invitation to his banquet.

Tonight Kenetta has accepted that invitation. She has been baptized, and she will take Communion. Kenetta has already participated in, and even hosted, fellowship meals here at St. Joseph’s. Tonight, she has said she wants to be a part of all the Holy Spirit’s banquets. She has said yes, she wants to feast at the table where seats are never sold, and where’s there’s always room for everyone. She wants to share in the meal hosted by the man who never raised a hand to hurt, only to heal, and yet was executed by a brutal empire whose governors believed, accurately, that he posed a threat to their way of doing business.

Kenetta is proclaiming with all the baptized, here at St. Joseph’s, around the world, and through the ages, that death can be the gateway to life, that bread and wine can become the very body and blood of God, and that by sharing holy food and drink, we can become holy people. She knows that together, we can turn away from empty foods—in Isaiah’s words, from “that which is not bread…that which does not satisfy”—and accept the nourishment God offers, as hungrily as a baby accepts the milk that is the only food it has ever known. We can resist the temptation to measure our worth by whether or not we appear on some exclusive guest list, and instead relax into the joy of knowing we’re loved, and we’re free to love others.

“Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” That’s God’s simple, profound recipe for transformation: accept the invitation to his banquets. If you’re baptized, feast often. Take a seat at the Lord’s table wherever you find it, and make room there for everyone who hungers and thirsts. If you’re wondering whether the Holy Spirit might be calling you to baptism, know that the sacraments and fellowship are God’s gifts to everyone who will accept them, and that his invitation has your name on it. As we share food and drink—bread and wine here at the altar, and rice and beans, sausage and eggs in the parish hall—we will become God’s people. We will be one body in Jesus Christ, and he will teach us to walk in his ways together. Amen.