Did I Do That?
Grace to you and peace from God our Father, and from our Lord, Savior, and King, Jesus Christ!
I often find myself reflecting how people keep going through situations of great adversity. How, for instance, does someone manage to live in a totalitarian culture, say, like North Korea? How do you carry on when people routinely disappear? When there is never enough food? When you are faced with backbreaking, endless work and cold and limited medical care? Where in the midst of so many needs, weapons production appears to be the #1 national priority? Where there is lots of desperation and a surfeit of joy?
My conclusion is that survival becomes a matter of moving inward, of shrinking your focus. Gathering you and yours tightly. It’s like pulling a blanket over your head, and shutting “all that” out.
Now, consider these images from this past week:
Image #1: Premies, some of them so incredibly tiny, huddled together to keep warm. They aren’t in incubators because there’s no electricity.
Image #2: A teen stomped to death by some 10 or so other teens in Las Vegas. A homicide detective called it “‘a void of humanity.’”[1]
Image #3: A hearing in the U.S. Congress. A Senator challenges the lead witness, president of a labor union, to duke it out over whatever their disagreement seems to be. Chair Bernie Sanders shouts them back into their seats by reminding the one, “‘You’re a United States Senator.’”[2]
Image #4: Weapons stored behind MRI machines. Not in this country, granted, but maybe that’s a future storage place for them here, too, since the Washington Post reports that about 1 in 20 adult Americans – 1 in 20! – owns at least one AK-type rifle.[3]
Image #5: Living in a culture where there is so little opportunity and so little hope that your only aspiration is to be killed and become a martyr.
Image #6: The US Congress by the skin of its teeth avoiding yet another government shut-down. Until mid-January that is, when we’ll go through the whole mess again, repeating the waste, inefficiency, and demoralization of civil servants who have to plan, every single time, how they are going to temporarily suspend services.
It makes my head hurt. It makes me want to lock the doors, retire to my bedroom, and pull the blankets over my head. Shut it all out. Focus on me, only on Me, the mental and physical survival of ME.
Today we find ourselves at the end of the liturgical year. Today we celebrate that title accorded to Jesus: Christ the King. Our lesson from Ephesians pulls out all the stops as it depicts Christ’s heavenly status:[4] Raised from the dead, seated at the right hand of God in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, above every name that is named. All things under his feet, not only in this age but also in the age to come.
Matthew describes that power and the splendor this way: “‘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. All the nations will be gathered before him,’” the text says. Christ the King here has come in judgment – judgment meant to set all things right.[5] It’s what Jesus prayed for – what we pray for: “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
Christ the King will set things right. And the judgment criteria?
“‘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.’”
“‘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.’”
The surprise! The pandemonium! The sheep want to know when they saw Jesus sick or unclothed. When did they help him out? The goats demand to know when they saw Jesus hungry or sick? Had we’d known it was you, Jesus, we would have been right there!
Jesus responds by telling us exactly where we may find him. We will find Jesus where there is a hungry person. We will find Jesus in torn and ragged clothing. We will find Jesus with those preemies. We will find Jesus in Gaza with the children who are sobbing. We will find Jesus in the homeless person who just wants to be left alone with a decent place to live. We will find Jesus on a sidewalk in Las Vegas. We will find Jesus in places of no hope and the deepest of despair, in places of carnage, in the places of greatest fear. Truly I tell you, when you find any of these, that’s exactly where I will be too.
Two weeks ago, Pastor Polk preached on Matthew’s beatitudes: Blessed are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek. He asked the question, “Where does God find these blessings today?” Christ the King answers this very question for us, this morning.
Jesus is telling us, set things right. Feed. Clothe. Visit. Offer hope. It’s pretty basic, what Jesus is asking. Jesus here doesn’t seem interested in us reciting the Apostles’ Creed; he doesn’t ask us if we can articulate our personal theology.[6] We don’t need to ask any of those questions that so often come to mind when faced with one of Jesus’ “least of these.” Things like, does he think like me? Act like me? Look like me? Believe as I believe? Which side is he on? Is he guilty? Has he admitted his wrongdoings? Has he said thank you?
Let’s be clear. It’s Christ the King appointed to be the judge – not us. Our job is simply to give: to feed and water, welcome, visit, provide clothing and give medical care for the least. Period. The end.
An additional thing needs to be said, such a natural human question that it was even put to Jesus in the Bible. Remember when Peter asked Jesus, “‘How often should I forgive? As many as seven times?’”[7] When Jesus says “feed,” we’re already calibrating the exact number of sandwiches to achieve our quota. How many visits are enough? Have I reached sheep level yet? Am I on the right now, or still on the left?
The great Lutheran theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer suggests this kind of question is nothing more than an excuse to allow ourselves to do nothing.[8] Jesus is simply not interested in knowing when we’ve hit the mark for the 500th glass of water. Jesus would say, quoting Nike, “Just do it.”
The groundswell, the energy, the commitment – the passion, if you will – for doing as Christ the King demands – where does it come from? As Jesus prepares his disciples for the cross, he tells them, “‘I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth.’”[9] This Spirit, God’s own Spirit, is within us, lighting us up from the inside out, propelling us down new paths – beyond ourselves, to the world “out there” – to the “little ones” beloved of God. Christ the King tells us today, the Spirit is in you; set things right. Let that Spirit within you overflow, tumble out, wave upon wave, flooding the place, as God’s love overflows. Floating in that baptismal water, we’ll somehow stop counting the numbers and the cost, and when Christ the King comes, we might be surprised to hear ourselves asking, “But when was it that I saw you hungry?”[10]
Let me tell you of a little experiment I’ve been conducting. It’s so ridiculously simple I’m almost embarrassed to mention it. It’s smiling when I see someone. I may know them; I most likely don’t. It might be at the grocery store, or pumping gas. It may be stopping a sec to hold the door, and letting someone into traffic even though I’ve been waiting at the light forever and it is my turn. It may be saying “I appreciate that, thanks.” Simple, simple stuff. Childhood stuff, but it’s a way of saying, “Everything and everyone are not all bad.” “You matter.” “You are important.” “You are a person.” “Your presence makes a difference.” “You are important to God.”
I’ve been amazed at the result. Not everyone, but a majority of people smile back. A smile is an amazing thing – it lights up and animates the face of even the plainest person, like a light bulb going on. There’s a connection for just a minute. The distance is reduced for that split second. And who knows, maybe they’ll smile at someone else.
In a time when it seems like the norms of daily civility are tearing, when pictures of war are so horrific we want to grab that blanket and head for the bed, when we don’t want to listen and can’t even fathom that someone else might have something worthy to say, when we can see so clearly the speck in our neighbor’s eye but not the log in our own[11]. . . today, Christ the King comes. We acknowledge gratefully that God is in charge. Christ the King will set all things right. God’s love will flood the world and there will be no babies without incubators, or Senators provoking fist fights, or teenagers killed, or the massive upheavals of war.
So smile that smile. Offer that casserole. Clean out your closet. Visit the despairing. Let that Spirit within you overflow, tumble out, wave upon wave, flooding the place where you are. You won’t even notice, after a while; you’ll stop counting the numbers and counting the cost, and when Christ the King comes, you will say, “Me? Did I do that?”
Amen.
[1] Timothy Bella, “8 teens face murder charges in beating of Los Vegas boy, 17,” Washington Post, 11/16/23, p. A2.
[2] Monica Hesse, “It seems lawmakers took ‘fight for the people” a tad too literally,” Washington Post, 11/16/23, p. C3.
[3] “Don’t just look away. Ban these weapons.” Washington Post, 11/18/23, p. A18.
[4] Preaching Through the Christian Year, Year A, Carl R. Holladay, p. 285.
[5] Working Preacher, Comm. Matt. 25:31-46, David S. Jacobsen, 11/26/17.
[6] Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 4, John M. Buchanan, p. 336.
[7] Matt. 18:21.
[8] Working Preacher, Comm. Matt. 25-31-46, Dirk G. Lange, 11/23/08. D. Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship.
[9] John 14:16-17
[10] Commentator Lange invites us to “joyful living in mercy without calculation.” Working Preacher, Comm. Matt. 25:31-46, 11/23/08.
[11] Matt. 7:3.
Gospel
Jesus tells a parable about his own second coming, emphasizing the need for readiness at all times.
The Holy Gospel according to St. Matthew, the 25th chapter.
Glory to you, O Lord.
[Jesus said to the disciples:] 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.”
The Gospel of our Lord. Praise to you, O Christ.