"You Did It To Me"

31 ‘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. ³²All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, ³³and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. ³⁴Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; ³⁵for 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, ³⁶I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” ³⁷Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? ³⁸And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? ³⁹And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” ⁴⁰And the king 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.” ⁴¹Then he will say to those at his left hand, “You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; ⁴²for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, ⁴³I 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.” ⁴⁴Then 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?” ⁴⁵Then he 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.” ⁴⁶And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.’

Matthew 25:31-46

“You Did It To Me”

It was wonderful to spend 10 days in London this past May while I was on sabbatical; a trip my dear friend and I had been dreaming about for 20 years since our days as English major classmates at Maryville College. We had dreamt about visiting Jane Austen country in bath, taking in a Shakespeare play at the Globe Theater, drinking a pint or two and sticky toffee pudding, visiting Westminster Abbey and Buckingham Palace and riding on the Thames. We did all of that and so much more. I loved all of it, and as the minister geek in me began to come out, I loved touring big cathedrals and walking through smaller sanctuaries the most.

Westminster Abbey was more than I ever imagined—grand in size and decoration, people all over the place looking at the markers and tombs, worship leaders and workers sharing the great history of the Gothic cathedral. I loved Poet’s Corner for it’s burial place Chaucer along with its markers and stones for Rudyard Kipling and William Wordsworth and Lord Byron. This part was so beautiful, but I have to confess I was a bit overwhelmed with the tombs and markers and ornate rooms decorated for so many members of the monarchy. I know Westminster Abbey is the place for the royal coronations of kings and queens and the weddings of princes and princesses, but I found myself surprised by the focus placed on the monarchy and began looking for images of Christ. This was a church, after all! The ministers were serving communion while we were there, and I sat down for a minute hoping to observe the Lord’s Supper. The invitation was certainly extended, but I starting thinking that I hadn’t really worshipped, that I really couldn’t take communion there because my heart wasn’t in the right place. What a weird feeling! I felt so much like the focus was on the kings instead of Christ the King, and it was a bit unsettling for me. I said a little prayer thanking God for the invitation, but I got up and quietly walked away.

A couple of days later, on Sunday morning, we happened to come across a beautiful little church as we were walking through London. There was a gorgeous open courtyard at St. James’s Church, and we strolled through to read a sign saying that the church was started by the poet William Blake. We looked around and saw lots of flowers in the yard, a sign reading “May Peace Prevail on Earth,” several children running around, and a few benches populated by homeless folks. We walked in a few minutes after the service had ended, and the worshippers were milling around, eating snacks and drinking coffee and tea. We saw all kinds of folks there, children running down the aisle with their parents behind, older men and women, a few folks in biker shorts and helmets who had parked their bikes outside. There were folks dressed in jeans and folks dressed in their Sunday finest and folks who were clearly homeless. There were several people there who were transgendered. And all were eating and talking and laughing and sharing. The minister was a woman, and she stopped to welcome us in, offering us doughnuts and coffee. As I do when I come across other women clergy (we lady ministers need to stick together, after all), I told her what I did. We had a great conversation, ending with her (half) jokingly asking me to talk to her governing board about this thing called sabbatical!

Even though I only spent about 30 minutes there, I left thinking that I had had a vision, a hope, of what Christ’s kingdom should look like—people from all walks of life, folks with very different stories and journeys, people who had been hungry and thirsty, had been imprisoned, had been strangers in search of a welcome, folks who had needed clothing and healing and shelter, seekers and sinners and saints alike—gathered in Christ’s church, no questions asked, everyone welcomed. After being in the sanctuary of the monarchs and kings and feeling oddly unworshipful, I felt the presence of Christ our King in this place where everyone was welcomed and invited without reservation, without hesitation. I felt the presence of Christ our King in this sanctuary where each person looked into another’s eyes and saw Christ in them, honored Christ in them.

In our Scripture from Matthew today, Christ our King shares this vision of sanctuary, this vision of the kingdom, with those gathered around him: “When the Son of Man comes in his glory…the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom 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…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.’”

Christ our King reminds us here, tells us and commands us, that being a person of faith, that being a Christian, someone who reflects his name, is more than about simply having faith. Being someone who bears Christ’s name is about doing faith. He tells us that, if we have truly been blessed by God, we better go about the business of acting like it.

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink.” We are called to seek out those who are literally hungry and thirsty, those who go to homeless shelters on cold days for warm meals, those who are food insecure in our communities, those children who go to school counting on their only meal for the day. We are called to stock the shelves of our food bank and to welcome friends for meals. We are called to seek out those who are hungry and thirsty in other ways—hungry for companionship, thirsty for understanding, hungry for someone to listen, thirsty for a sense of belonging in the world.

“For I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” We are called to seek out the lonely, those who are lonely in so many different ways. Some of the lonely are folks who are on their own without family and friends, some lonely because they don’t know how to reach out to others, some because they have alienated everyone around them because of addiction or illness or problems unseen. We are called to welcome them, to give them a new name as Christ so often did, to give them the new name of “friend” instead of stranger. That welcome is not always easy, but it is necessary for forgiveness, for life.

“For I was naked and you gave me clothing.” We are called to literally give clothes off our backs if we need to, to clean out our closets and realize the excess we all have in our lives—Jesus calls us, after all, to give one coat away if we have two. That is a literal message for all of us, friends. I can imagine that 95% of us, including myself, have closets and rooms and storage rooms close to full if not overflowing. It’s time to do something about this. This also means that we are called to reach out to those who have been stripped naked by life, whether it be a break up or an addiction or a run of bad luck. There are times when we simply feel exposed and naked, times when we feel like we have been stripped bare to the bone. We are called to clothe, to surround others with warm, comfortable, safe clothing.

“I was sick and you took care of me.” We are called to reach out to those who are sick in so many ways—physical illness, mental illness, sick from stress or exhaustion, sick in ways we might never understand. The care can come in many forms—helping the sick person to eat or drink, walking around the hospital floor with them, helping change their clothes, or by simply asking them how they are and listening honestly to them; by sitting with them in silence when words simply won’t suffice.

“I was in prison and you visited me.” We are physically called to go to the prison and visit folks, whether we know them or not, not judging how they got there, but being the face of Christ for them while they are there. This call is especially important for us who live in a country with an incredibly overburdened prison system. There is lots of work to do. And for all of those who are imprisoned in a state prison, there are just as many of us who are imprisoned by our actions and assumptions, by our beliefs, by our prejudices and experiences. We are called to sit with them, to listen to their stories, to challenge them, to challenge ourselves as we listen, to forgive them as Christ has forgiven us.

I don’t know about you, but this seems to me like a lot, and it all seems like some pretty tough stuff. Any of these things, even taken on their own, seem impossible enough, but all of these together? Impossible. And maybe that’s by design. Perhaps Christ our King wants us to know that life in his name is not easy, nor should it ever be—that life in his name has been and will always be hard, a lifetime journey that will never end.

There is one more word we need to hear in this Scripture—that Christ’s call to us says absolutely nothing about merit, nothing about giving food and clothing and shelter and sanctuary to those few whom we deem worthy. We can’t say, “Well, I’ll just visit the prisoners who are there because of white collar crime. They’re more worthy than the ones who abused a child or murdered someone.” That is our tendency, to judge, to deem worthy, to justify our own goodness, to be petty and short sighted and judgmental—and Christ knows that. To deem someone worthy, to judge them and decide for them is God’s job, not ours. Worthiness is not our call, not should it be, and thanks be to God for that. “Just as you did it to one of the least of them who are members of my family [AND THEY ALL ARE], you did it to me.” Christ’s words to us, Christ’s call to us. We are all part of the body of Christ, every single one of us. Each of us is part of Christ, and as such, we are called to exhibit his kingdom on earth—as impossible as that seems.

John Buchanan, a pastor and past moderator of our General Assembly, says it beautifully:

Matthew 25 makes me very uncomfortable when I think about it much. I cannot help everyone…what can I do? What I can do and called to do is to remember what Jesus said: “When you did it to one of the least of these, my family, you did it to me”—not, please notice, just the certifiably hungry and truly deserving. The only criterion he set was “least of these.” So what I can do is not to ignore and overlook, but to look into a human face and to see there the face of Jesus Christ, because that it what he said.

God wants not only a new world modeled on the values of Jesus. God wants us—each of us. God is…a God of love who wants to save our souls…and redeem us and give us the gift of life—true, deep, authentic human life. God wants to save us by touching our hearts with love. God wants to save us by persuading us to care and see other human beings who need us. God wants to save us from obsessing about ourselves, our needs, by persuading us to forget about ourselves and worry about others. That is God’s favorite project: to teach you and me the fundamental lesson, the secret, the truth—that to love is to live.           

He’s right. To love is to live. To love is to live life fully as a part of Christ’s kingdom on earth, Christ’s kingdom in heaven. To love, to live, is to truly look into each person’s eyes and see the face of Christ in them. As Pope Francis asked on twitter this week: “When we meet a person truly in need, do we see the face of God?” Do we? Amen.