Once upon a time there was a banquet. It was a fine banquet, a splendid banquet, with brilliant white tablecloths and gleaming china and crystal wine glasses. The cooks had outdone themselves. They had prepared the tenderest of roast beef, with rich gravy, along with sweet potato soufflee and peas with pearl onions, and buttery popovers. All the guests were streaming in, so full of joy and wonder, with their eyes bright, finding their seats and chattering with one another in delight.

Now all of the servers were gathered in the kitchen. It was almost time to begin. The service captain, whose name was Melissa, turned an empty milk crate upside down and stepped up on top of it. She looked round at all the people on her team. And then Melissa said, “I know that when I tell you these things, I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. You are here to serve the tables for the banquet of the kingdom: more than that, you are here to bring joy to all who are in attendance. It is hard work. It demands your best energy, and sometimes the tips aren’t much.

“And of course you know that it isn’t about you. Almost always we serve the best when they hardly see us at all. They are not here to admire us, or even really to notice us: they are here for the banquet, for the celebration, for the joy of this occasion. And yet we know this: the feast will not take place, unless someone brings them the food.

“And that’s what we’re here to do. We are here to bring the feast to all the hungry souls who have joined together here for the banquet. Now: go. Go and serve the feast: go and fulfill your calling, and bring joy to all who are here!”

Once upon another time there was a homecoming parade, in the town of Saint Ambrose. Saint Ambrose was one of those small towns founded many years ago, as the frontier moved westward: its first settlers had big dreams of what their city would become. It would be a seat of great education, with a college or university, and they would train up great leaders of the future. So they named their town after Saint Ambrose of Milan, the famous teacher of Saint Augustine, with the humble notion that their town would probably never be as famous and important as Saint Augustine, yet they would be hardworking and devout people who would train future generations, and who knows, someone from those future generations might well turn out to be as important a figure as Saint Augustine some day.

But when the railroad was built, it did not come through Saint Ambrose; it went through another town, twenty miles to the south, and it was that town that became the county seat. The town of Saint Ambrose had had its ups and downs in the years since then. But in recent decades their population had dwindled, as the children of the community had found jobs in other communities, many of them far away.

In years past, the Saint Ambrose Saints had had a pretty fair football team. It came to pass, though, that the number of boys decreased; and the number of boys who wanted to sign up for football decreased as well: it didn’t seem like fun to be bruised and battered by bigger boys from bigger schools. So almost twenty years ago they had a series of meetings, and the school board and the town as a whole came to the conclusion that they would no longer have a football team. As a result they ended up having better men’s and women’s track teams, in the spring, and pretty fair men’s and women’s soccer teams, in the fall. There were still people who missed football, though, and the Friday night gatherings of the community in the football stadium.

Interestingly enough, even though they no longer had football, they still had homecoming. Every October they held their Homecoming Parade. And people really did come home for this parade. The second weekend in October the town’s population doubled, as children and grandchildren and cousins all came home for this annual celebration. There were food booths and face painting booths and craft booths in the park and in the municipal parking lot. And there was the annual Homecoming Parade.

In years past there had been floats created by different clubs and organizations in town, but that had dwindled, too. And they always had Jerry Kravitz, driving his 1923 fire engine, all painted up bright yellow, leading the parade. But this year there were no floats. And after Jerry had died, a year and a half ago, his kids had sold his fire truck to a collector in California. And that meant that there would be just one entry in the whole parade: the Saint Ambrose Saints marching band.

That was kind of discouraging. Still, the Saint Ambrose Saints marching band was a class act. They did not have seventy-six trombones and a hundred and ten cornets. They had a total of thirty-seven students: nine rows of four musicians, led by a drum major. And that would be the parade.

The parade route started at the cemetery on North Main Street. From there it ran south through the downtown area, where everyone would be lining the sidewalks on both sides of the street; and then on for another two blocks to the front of the high school: seven blocks in all.

It was almost time to start. The students were standing around in clumps of three and four, talking about the things that students talk about on a chilly October morning.

The drum major, whose name was Tony, climbed up on the low stone wall near the cemetery gate. He said, “I know that when I tell you these things, I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. We are the Saint Ambrose Saints, and it is time for us to march. We have all practiced. We know our music. We’re going to give it all we’ve got. Now, go! Go and lead the parade. Go and be the parade, so that all the world wants to be in that number, when the Saints go marching in!”

Once upon yet another time, the risen Lord Jesus met with his disciples. It was in the hill country of Galilee. The text tells us that when they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. I love that verse. It shows us that when we encounter Jesus, the right response is to worship: God the Son, the Savior of the world, who has come from heaven to redeem us all. Let us bow our hearts and offer all our devotion. Yet even in the midst of this, people felt uncertainty. I love that admission. Face to face with the risen Christ, some of his disciples felt doubts in their hearts. When you and I feel like our faith is ragged, when we are not sure how much we really believe, we are in good company. Even in our confusion, even in our worries, even in our doubts, we come to worship Jesus, the best we can.

Jesus spoke to them. Matthew summarizes what Jesus said to them in three verses. I expect that Jesus said more than that. He might well have spoken for an hour or two. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had said, “I know that when I tell you these things, I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. You are my disciples: you came to learn from me, and now you have learned. Now go! Go and make disciples. Go and make disciples of all nations: near and far, take the message and explain it to everyone. Don’t leave anyone out. Go, and bring in the kingdom!”

One of the things about being a preacher is this. Some of what you do is explaining some of the content of the Bible to people. That makes sense, because there is a lot of material in the Bible that is all not that easy to understand. But mostly what you do, as a preacher, is remind people about things they have learned before: reminding them, and encouraging them, to put into practice the things that they have learned.

So I know that when I tell you these things, I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. Nevertheless, since I am a preacher, I will go ahead and remind you. You are a church full of followers of Jesus. Sometimes we do pretty well. Sometimes we are kind of ragged. But we are followers of Jesus, who gives us the great commission, to make disciples of all nations. I know I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know: it is up to you to go, to go and make disciples, to go and make disciples of all nations: bringing the gospel to those in prison, and to those in school, and to those in rest homes, and to those in the community at large.

Tony the drum major jumped down from the stone wall. He pointed his baton at the snare drummers, and they began to rattle out a drum roll to wake the dead. Everyone leaped to their place in the middle of the street, and in an instant the disorganized cluster of students had become the Saint Ambrose Saints Marching Band.

Tony gave a shout, and shot his arm into the air; then he brought it down with a snap, and the band began to march. They marched to the theme music from Rocky. They stopped at the north end of downtown and played a stirring rendition of My Country, ’Tis of Thee. Then they marched again, brassing out a medley of tunes from the Star Wars movies, three blocks to the south end of downtown where they made a couple of crisp quarter turns so sharp you could shave with them, taking them back three blocks back to the north, and then marching in place till they got to the end of their medley. All the people lined up on the sidewalks on both sides of main street: they were cheering as loud as they could. They were so proud of these students!

Then, with a stirring triple drum roll, the marching band snapped into their signature song. Of course, you’ve already realized what their signature song was: When the Saints Go Marching In. They headed back south on Main Street, now in a six by six block formation. Tony the drum major was in front, stepping high and proud, his right arm with its baton moving up and down like a piston with the beat, and all the band in a strong high-step march behind him.

And suddenly everyone on the sidewalk surged into the street. They were arm in arm, following the band, many of them singing the words: When the saints go marching in, O Lord! I want to be in that number! Grandmothers and great-grandmothers, little children holding onto their parents’ hands and babes in arms, old men with canes, the whole town, the whole extended community: everyone was part of the parade, some of them walking, some of them shuffling along, but a lot of them marching, keeping in step, just like they did when they were in the Saint Ambrose marching band five or six or seven decades earlier. They were singing. Many of them were laughing at the sheer unexpected spontaneity of the moment. Many of them were crying with the astonishing joy of this moment.

And the Saint Ambrose Saints marching band reached the high school driveway, and made the crispest of right angle turns up into the parking lot. They marched up onto the steps at the front of the school, turned 180 degrees, and faced out, and they played it all over again:

Oh when the saints go marching in, oh when the saints go marching in. O Lord: I want to be in that number, when the saints go marching in. And all the community filled up the parking lot, because it was true. They all wanted to be in that number, when the saints go marching in.

What is the Kingdom of Heaven like? The Kingdom of Heaven is like a homecoming parade that starts at a cemetery and moves to a school, and all the saints want to be in that number, when the saints go marching in. The Kingdom of Heaven is like a great banquet, where we have the privilege of serving guests from every people and tongue and tribe and nation. The Kingdom of Heaven is like Jesus, sending forth his disciples to make disciples of all the world. And the Kingdom of Heaven is like you – you knew it was going to be like you, didn’t you? – the Kingdom of Heaven is like you, realizing that you want to be in that number, that you want all the world to be in that number, that you want all the world to be at the great banquet, that you want all the world to discover the joy of being one of the followers of Jesus, when the saints go marching in.