When Did We….? – sermon on November 23, 2014
Matthew 25: 31-46: Jesus said, “When the Son of Man comes in glory, with all the angels, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by God, inherit the realm prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’
Then the righteous will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the Ruler will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’ Then the Ruler will say to those on the left, ‘You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and the devil’s angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’
Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?’ Then the Ruler will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”
When Did We….? – sermon on November 23, 2014 by Reverend Doreen Oughton
Today is Christ the King Sunday. What images come to mind when you think of a king? I always imagine scenes from the fairy tales – grand castles, large ornate thrones, gold and jewels, crowns and scepters, long velvet capes. I imagine the royals surrounded by people – handmaids and servants, even court jesters. I imagine a king could command armies. I imagine him riding through the kingdom in the royal coach pulled by huge beautiful horses, making sure the people were doing their work to support the kingdom, and the people bowing and scraping before him.
The passage from Matthew morning frames the scene with dramatic imagery – the Son of Man – a new king – coming in glory, surrounded by angels, seated on that beautiful thrown, with throngs of people around. But in this scene they are coming before him for judgment. Has a commandment gone out compelling the people to come, or have they just come in excitement to see the new king, only to find themselves in line for judgment?
Judgment is a big theme in the gospel of Matthew, and it certainly comes up in the other gospels as well, and it is a real challenge for me, especially passages like this that frame the judgment as final and eternal: the righteous go to eternal life and the unrighteous go to eternal punishment. If we can assume the harsh language is meant to get people’s attention and let go of the idea of eternal and final, perhaps we can see judgment as a positive thing. For without judgment there is no accountability, and I believe that accountability is incredibly important in choosing how we want to live. We may also benefit from separating out judgment from punishment and tie it more to awareness. For we are good at self-delusion. We form a picture of the person we want to be – good, kind, compassionate, fair, honest, trustworthy – whatever, and determine that we are that, and then we ignore any evidence of unkindness, unfairness, dishonesty, selfishness. We just don’t see them anymore. Or we justify them, blaming others or circumstances that force us to wall up our compassion, to look out just for ourselves, to lie or steal or manipulate.
But God sees through this, sees that we are not living up to the vision we have for ourselves, nor the vision God has of us – the vision of glory we were created to embody. So there needs to be a mechanism for this contrast to be pointed out to us, to wake us up, to cause us to look inward and look outward. I believe this judgment is not for the purpose of punishment, but for the purpose of repenting, of turning around and doing what we say we want to do in the big picture. I believe it is to help us see with new eyes.
I don’t know what God’s judgment day will look like, but I’m glad that we don’t have to wait for one culminating day to learn what we got right and where we messed up. I am pretty sure that any judgment day of God’s does not give us a spot in the judge’s seat. We are not called to judge others, to decide who is righteous in God’s sight, and who is unclean or unworthy. But we have ideas about what God wants from us, and some of those ideas are set out so very clearly in this passage. Look out for and tend to the needs of others. Feed, clothe, welcome, nurture and visit them.
And I love the way Jesus connects himself with those who were in need – the least of his children – those others may discount as unimportant, as drains on society, as takers, moochers, lazy, malingering. Jesus calls our attention to how we treat these people. It reminds me of those shows like undercover boss, or where the prison warden goes into a cell in disguise to see what it is really like from the inside. The boss, the warden and Jesus know that people speak and act one way in front of those they see as having power over them and another way with those they have power over. Jesus says he is with those less powerful people all the time and knows how you treat them – the waitresses,the nursing home residents, the panhandlers, the inmates, the person idling too long at the stop light, the technician or salesperson on the phone at a call center in India.
It’s also interesting that in this teaching, Jesus is not calling out as goats those that we might perceive as really bad – the murderers and war criminals, the KKK lynchers and child molesters and con men and batterers. No the goats in this story have done nothing. They have not done an evil deed, they have just failed to do a good deed. Or perhaps the evil deed is turning away from those in need. Jesus wants us to look, to see, to acknowledge and respond in love. This is how the kindom of heaven comes into our world – through acts of self-giving love – feeding, clothing, housing, healing, visiting. Now of course we cannot help EVERYBODY, we can’t see every need, and I don’t think we are expected to do this perfectly. But we are asked to consider what is our orientation, our mindset toward suffering and need? Do we think it is deserved by some, their punishment, the natural outcome of their own bad choices? When we are confronted by suffering and need do we orient ourselves to judgment, to wondering what that person did to bring on their suffering before we determine whether to help or not? Or do we look for Jesus in them, understanding that whatever we do to these, beloved members of his family, we do to him? Do we seek to judge Jesus?
Now there are times when people do bring on their own suffering, and do need to be accountable for the choices they make. But they are not accountable to us, they are accountable to themselves and to the heavenly ruler. We are accountable for our own actions or lack of action, our compassion or lack of it, our generosity or stinginess. Perhaps I should say “and” instead of “or” because of course it is a mixed bag. We will fail, and we will succeed, and we are better off if we can see the truth of that instead of going about blindly, focusing our eyes only on how others are doing.
As you may know, my politics are fairly progressive. For me, seeing that people are fed, clothed, housed, welcomed, healed and visited is important. Since I am one person, and the need is so great, I am in favor of public policy that is accountable to the least of God’s children – to those in need no matter how they came to be in need. But I also know there are many people who believe God’s kindom grows not by compelling people to give, not by asking the government or others to give, but by giving freely by one’s own choice. Their giving may inspire others to give, and so the kindom grows in freedom. Withholding help from those who are able to help themselves may be a way of helping people to be accountable. I would just remind all of us that we are not in the judge’s seat, and I believe we are called to extend kindness, compassion and hospitality even to those who believe differently than we do about how the kindom will come, to those who believe Jesus was talking to people as individuals, or as a faith community, or as a public community. Love one another. See Jesus in each other, not only in the least, but in the bosses and wardens and presidents and congressional representatives.
In this parable the judgments of the king were a surprise to everybody – to those judged as sheep and those judged as goats – whatever that distinction might be. They didn’t know when they were serving Jesus and when they weren’t. This also might be a message to us. All the things we judge as good, as bad, in ourselves and in others, we may be wrong. That thought ought to humble us. It also might scare us, especially if we have judgment tied up with punishment and eternity. If there are things we could do that would send us to eternal hell no matter what, we really should be given clearer information. And I’m sorry, but the bible is just not that clear. You can find stories there of people being condemned for wearing the wrong coat to a wedding, or running out of lamp oil. You violate God’s laws if you get a tattoo or mix different types of fabric or drink milk with your steak dinner. There are stories of God commanding murder, rewarding trickery, condoning slavery and leading people to conquer foreign lands. The bible is not a rule book. It is not a textbook for living. It doesn’t have the answer key in the back that will help us ace the final exam. It has tremendous wisdom, and I believe it contains God’s voice, but it also requires real study and discernment. It requires that we step back from our pre-conceived notions of kingship – of the fairy tale throne and crown and bowing, scraping people. Ralph Milton shares his image of this day of judgment before a new king.
In my mind’s eye, I can see a Cecil B. DeMille movie. There is a cast of thousands. Elgar’s “Pomp and Circumstance” march, played by “76 trombones and a hundred and ten clarinets” and a thousand piece band booms through the great marble hallway. High and lifted up on a solid gold throne sits the king – no, the Holy Universal Emperor, no less – surrounded by glittering ladies and lords. A crimson curtain is pulled back to reveal the ranks of satisfied souls in pure white nightgowns and glittering tiaras who bow low before the Emperor.
In a voice, reverberating over a much-too-loud PA system, the Emperor speaks. “And what have you done for me, that I should allow you to bask in my presence?” As with one voice, the satisfied souls responded. “We bowed. We scraped. We flattered. We built temples in your honor. We sang songs in your praise. Whenever something good happened, we gave you thanks. Whenever something bad happened, we said it was our fault. We are nothing. You are everything. You alone are worthy. We are but dirt and scum.”
“Nicely said! You have been well trained,” came the reverberating voice. “Come inside, and bask in my greatness and glory.” Then suddenly a hush falls on the assembly. Something is not right. A person – it’s impossible to tell whether male or female – who looks like Saint Francis or Mother Theresa or someone we know but not quite. This person walks quietly, confidently, through the ranks of nobles who slink to one side. The person walks in bare feet up the stairs to the throne, high and lifted up, and stands there looking at the Emperor. No words are spoken, but the face of the Emperor shows fear and joy, hope and horror, love and hate. The person turns to gaze at the satisfied souls. No words, but on the face where the satisfied souls expect to see anger, they see only pity. And love. And deep, deep sadness.
Then turning, the person walks in the other direction. The walls of the palace dissolve revealing people of all walks of life – all races – all faiths – who seem to pay no attention at all to the holy person walking toward them. They are all busy. Some are planting gardens. Some are building small houses. Some are helping street people. Some are binding wounds. Some are in politics working for justice. Some are caring for children. Some are simply praying. And now the stranger speaks. “Thank you, my friends. We will always be together in a life of hope and joy and peace.”
The castle dissolves into a pile of ashes, and the ashes float around and settle on the nobles and ladies and satisfied souls. They are not punished. They simply turn into a dull and uniform and joyless gray. The voice on the loudspeakers is silenced. Drifting through the ruins of the palace comes the distant sound of children laughing and people singing.
May it be so.
