Sermons

“Daily Walking Close to Thee”

Psalm 100; Matthew 25:31-46 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – November 26, 2017

Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words that we might see your Christ in everyone we meet and respond with love. In the name of Jesus we pray, Amen.

It’s funny, really, the difference between the passage I just read, and the one right before it that we read last week. As I confessed last Sunday, I would have preferred to ignore Matthew 25:14-30 entirely. It’s complicated and confusing, and it brings up images of God (maybe) that do not fit into my understanding of God. But then we get to verse 31, and suddenly we’re back in familiar territory with the beloved and well-used Parable of the Sheep and the Goats[1]. We love this scripture!

For many Disciples, and other mainline Protestants, this parable is a central, foundational – dare I even say, fundamental – passage. If you’ve ever been in Bible study with me, you’ve heard me talk about the idea of the “gospel lens”, the definitive passages of scripture by which we measure the rest of the Bible. For many Christians, that lens consists of things like “Love God with all you are, and your neighbor as yourself” or “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” or even “What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God.” But if you’re looking for a parable summary, that is, a story that explains how Christians should behave, many of us would turn directly to Matthew 25:31-46. What do Christians do? We feed hungry people. We welcome strangers. We clothe the naked. We visit the sick and the imprisoned. Why? Because Jesus told us to. Because when we do, we’re doing it to Jesus. Because that is how we express love. Because God first loved us.

I had the opportunity to meet with our new General Minister and President, Teresa Hord-Owens when I was in Indianapolis[2] last month with the Disciples Peace Fellowship Executive Committee. At one point during our conversation she said something so clear that I had to write it down. “Justice work is my response of gratitude for the gospel of Jesus Christ,” she said. And you can see that right here in Matthew 25:31-46. We respond to the love we’ve received from God through Jesus Christ by serving those in need, in whom we meet Christ again and again. It’s not hard to see why this scripture is so central for so many Christians.

And yet, while there is no denying the clear mandate present here, we also can’t act as though it’s the only thing going on in this passage. Let us remember again, the story that came before. And the story before that, if you want. The whole chapter is about what theologians call “eschatology,” that is, the end times, the final judgment, the second coming Christ as the world is transformed into the kingdom of heaven. The truth is that “social justice Christians,” as we may call ourselves, tend to ignore that part. But it’s right there, in all its goat-y, graphic detail, the dismissal into eternal fire and punishment, while the good sheep get to inherit the kingdom. So what do we do with it?

First of all, let’s notice why we’re even reading this passage today. It’s not because the designers of the lectionary thought it would be nice to fit in one more passage about moral Christian practices of service before the new liturgical year begins with the first Sunday of Advent next Sunday. Our Disciples planning calendar, which lists each Sunday’s lectionary scriptures, doesn’t make note of it, but for many denominations who use the Revised Common Lectionary, today is Christ the King Sunday. As a Disciple, I’m not well-schooled in the deeper implications of this holiday, but it’s not hard to imagine what it’s about. It’s the end of the liturgical year, after we’ve celebrated the Incarnation and the Resurrection and heard so many of the stories of what Jesus did during his time on earth, and so now in these final moments, we focus on Jesus as the ultimate King and Judge of the Universe[3]. So if we’re reading Matthew 25:31-46 today, it’s not because we’re supposed to be emphasizing our feeding ministries. It’s because it starts with the words “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory.” The passage actually refers to Jesus as “the king” throughout the rest of the verses. What better choice for Christ the King Sunday? There is no way around the fact that this is an eschatological story, and what it’s telling us is that Jesus is the one who will be grading us when the end comes. So what do we do with that?

I’ve got to tell you, you haven’t really felt the weight of this parable until you’ve had it quoted back at you by a rough-looking guy who shows up after worship needing food or gas or something I don’t really remember, who wants to know if there are any real Christians in this town. In my sixteen years of ministry, I’ve had a lot of people show up at the church door needing help. The extra savvy ones know to show up around noon on Sunday. And of course, there’s always the possibility that someone is telling stories[4]. But I’ve always told myself, largely because of this passage we’re looking at today, that my response isn’t about whether that person in front of me is or isn’t telling the truth; my response is about my own relationship with Jesus. Because in that moment, whether the truth is in them or not, Jesus is. Am I going to be a sheep or a goat?

And this is why it’s so easy to get hung up on the eschatological implications of this story. Of all the times I’ve been faced with someone who’s hungry or thirsty or a stranger or sick or in prison, how many of those times have I recognized and responded as Jesus? And how many times have I made excuses and turned away? And what about all the hungry or sick people or prisoners that I haven’t been faced with directly, but that I know are out there? What about the orphans in Yemen? What about the refugees from Myanmar? What about the homeless vets downtown? Is all that going to be on the test? Is my sheep or goat status measured by an average, like if I did the right thing more than I didn’t? Or will there be a random sampling? Will I be judged by my best day or my worst day? Does it still count against me if the person I didn’t help was lying? Or if I turned them away because I just gave them gas to drive to Yuma two weeks ago and now they’re back again?

As it turns out, Christians, like most humans, are really good at rationalization. We talk about maximizing resources and not throwing good money after bad. We come up with lists of qualifications and carefully designed mandates that help us know when to say Yes and when to say No[5]. But if someone needs a harmonica because the one he’d been using to make a living got stolen and harmonicas aren’t on our list of qualified expenditures, what do we do? The truth is these choices – and let’s be clear: these are choiceS, plural, not just one choice for our entire lifetime – these choices are really hard, even without the eschatological implications.

Could there be a more fruitful way to look at this passage? One that doesn’t ignore the kingly judgment bits but also doesn’t get hung up on the eternal fire and the roasted goats? If we can embrace the idea that Christ is present in people in need, and that we can serve Christ by serving those in need, what would it look like to apply that in a day-to-day way, rather than a final judgment way? What if seeking the glory of heaven is about learning, day after day, to recognize Christ in the face of hungry people or prisoners or strangers? Could we begin to realize that if we’re not interacting on a regular basis with hungry people and sick people and strangers and prisoners, we might be missing out on getting to know Jesus? What if we used this passage more like guidelines for making God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven, rather than as a warning about the final exam? What if that warning about eternal fire was a reminder to us that when we turn away from those in need, we’re actually cutting ourselves off from the love of God a little bit? Salvation isn’t simply about what happens when we die or when the world ends. Salvation is a moment-by-moment, right-now experience. We don’t have to ignore the eschatological implications of this story to embrace it as a mandate for gospel-living. We don’t have to believe in a literal hell of eternal fire or agree that Jesus is primarily the ultimate judge of the living and the dead to accept the high stakes of these choices. Our decisions to see or not see Jesus in those in need do have life-or-death consequences. Our choices to respond with love do bring the kingdom of heaven nearer. Every day, every moment. Let us praise the name of Christ the King, our friend in need. Alleluia and Amen.

[1] TS – Have you ever been around sheep or goats? What do you know about the differences between them? Why do you think Jesus uses them as symbols for good and bad people?

[2] TS – Did you know there are churches like ours all over the country and the world? Our national headquarters are in Indianapolis, Indiana. Have you ever been to Indiana? Have you ever been to another Disciples church?

[3] TS – What do you think the world would be like if Jesus were King? How would things be different?

[4] TS – Is it hard or easy to ask for help? Can you imagine why someone might lie when they’re asking for help?

[5] TS – Why might you say No to someone who needed help? Have you ever done that? How did it feel? What kind of situation makes it okay to say No?