When Not?

 

Rev Dr Mark Porizky

 

11/25/07

 

Matthew 25:31-46 (Thank you to Nancy Parent and One Sabbath)


‘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, 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 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.” Then 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? 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 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.” Then 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; 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 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.” And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.’


      Since the start of the holiday season is now just around the corner, it is likely that at least a few of us will soon watch some or perhaps the entire classic holiday movie It's a Wonderful Life, my all-time favorite movie.

 

      In the story, a man named George Bailey despairs that his life is so worthless that it would have been better had he never been born at all. In order to prove him wrong, Clarence the guardian angel lets George experience what the world would have been like had the man George Bailey never existed. As most of us know, George discovers that his seemingly humdrum life affected far more people than he could have guessed. A myriad of little, and not-so-little, things that George had done over the course of his lifetime combined to make his hometown of Bedford Falls a better place. George just never realized all the good he had done, and all the bad he had prevented, simply by being alive and by being himself.

 

      A similar point is made in Thornton Wilder's Pulitzer Prize-winning play, Our Town. The play's central character, Emily, is given a chance, following her death, to view a scene from her past. She is told that it cannot be some obviously important day but should be a fairly ordinary time from her bygone life--indeed, she is told that re-visiting even the least important day of her life would suffice to teach Emily something very important.

 

      Emily chooses to re-visit her 12th birthday, only to discover a vast array of things about that day she had completely forgotten. More than that, however, she is stunned to see how fast life moves and how little she or anyone paid attention to what was happening as her life was happening. In the end, Emily cannot bear to watch. "I can't. I can't go on," she cries. "We don't have time to look at one another. I didn't realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed . . . “ 

 

      She end by asking, “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?"  The answer is no. Instead, Emily is told that, for the vast majority of people, to be alive is "to move about in a cloud of ignorance."

      Emily didn't realize. George Bailey didn't realize. They simply were not aware of the larger meaning around them every, the larger meaning of every minute of every, every day.

 

      This phenomenon of meaning plays a surprisingly large role in Jesus' words about the sheep and the goats.  It fascinates me that whatever else may distinguish these two groups from one another, they do share at least one thing in common: both had lived their lives without realizing something. One group had, the King declares, ministered directly to Jesus himself while the other group had, essentially, directly snubbed Jesus. The righteous group is commended whereas the other group is sent packing; the first group is welcomed into a pleasant-sounding kingdom whereas the other group is shuttled off to a decidedly hellish-sounding location.

 

      Strikingly, however, before that happens, both groups ask the exact same question: "When did all that stuff happen?" Jesus tells the righteous folks that he was grateful for all the ways they had nourished, welcomed, clothed, tended to, and visited him. But the righteous cannot for the life of them recall doing any of that for Jesus, and so they ask, "Well now, when did we do all that for you, Lord?" Conversely, the wicked cannot for the lives of them recall ever seeing Jesus anywhere, much less in need of anything, and so they ask, "Well now, what day was that when we missed seeing you, Jesus?" One group did the right things to Jesus, the other group failed to help Jesus, but neither realized it.

 

      The reason is because Jesus identifies himself with the hurting of this world so that whatever we do, or fail to do, in relation to those hurting people directly affects Jesus. But we forget. We don't realize life while we live it. But we should at least try.

 

      That's why Matthew 25 is here. We, as Christians, should be more aware of what is going on around us, where Jesus is to be found, and how we are to treat him.  In our lives, do we see the marginalized of the world? And when we see them, are we moved to help them, even if it is through relatively modest ways of serving?

 

      Because notice that the words of the King in these verses do not point to some heroic life of magnificent or miraculous deeds. The kinds of ministries Jesus highlights are what we could call quite ordinary. He does not say that the sick must be healed by us but that it is enough to look after them. He does not say that those in prison must be liberated by us but that it is enough just to visit them in prison. The other items are likewise matters of common sense and decency: when someone is hungry, you do what you can to get her food. It's basic. A thirsty person needs water. Someone shivering in the chill of a Michigan winter afternoon could use a coat. Those who have no place to sleep or rest or call home could use a shelter from the elements. It's all basic.

 

      But in Matthew 25 Jesus is taking us down to the street level of both seeing and then ministering to ordinary situations. Jesus is saying that poverty and social dislocation are present in life and are likely to remain present so long as this current order of the cosmos goes on.

 

      No matter what we do, no matter what kind of political system we live under, no matter which party is in the White House, somehow for whatever reason there will always be hungry, thirsty, ill-clad, homeless, sick, and imprisoned people. That's what's out there, Jesus says. How will you respond? It's a vital query because somehow they are all Jesus.

 

      But we forget. We don't realize life as we live it. Then again, in this particular situation, realizing the Jesus-connection may not even be necessary. Remember: in Matthew 25 both groups say they didn't realize that the poor of the world all represented Jesus. Both missed that connection, but that ignorance doesn't matter.

 

      But if so, then suppose that those who had failed to do ministry were to ask the King a counter-question. First they ask, "When did we brush you aside, Lord?" and the Lord replies, "You did it every time you brushed them aside." But suppose these folks countered by asking, "Well, how were we supposed to know that? If we had known it had been you all along, Lord, why by God we would've acted differently!"

 

      At some point we've probably all watched a TV show in which a character behaves rather rudely toward some stranger only to realize at some point that this person is someone famous. The waiter at a restaurant is being rather snappy with the person who seems to be having trouble deciding what to order. But then the waiter realizes that this hesitant diner is none other than Clint Eastwood, and instantly the waiter has all the patience in the world as he fawns over the famous man.

 

      Couldn't the wicked say something like, "Well, dear Lord, why didn't you tell us it was you all along? We would have done things different if we had known." What might the Jesus’ response to that be? Maybe it would be along the lines of this. "You didn't have to know it was me all along--the righteous didn't either. It should have been enough to realize no more than that this other person was a human being created in the very image of God! If you had known no more than that (and you did!), that would have been enough. You didn't need to know it was me. Had you simply acknowledged their humanity, their God-likeness, you would have been led to do the right thing."

 

      Someone once suggested that it would be a good spiritual discipline for all of us to go to a place like Stop and Shop, sit down somewhere, and just watch the people go by. You maybe know up front what you'll see: you'll spy the harried mom with three little kids under the age of 6. Two of the kids are hollering or begging for this or that toy, the mom is snapping in anger and maybe even being a bit profane. You'll spy the rather obese person who lumbers along short-of-breath as she piles her cart high with Twinkies and cheap beer. You'll see the more well-to-do person waiting in a checkout lane behind the young couple in tattered blue jeans who are furtively paying their bill with food stamps. You'll see a little bit of everything eventually. But in your heart, it would be a good discipline to say of each person, "Jesus died for you."

 

      Jesus died for him, for her, for that skinny one, for that chunky one; for that stressed-out mom and that arrogant-looking teenager because each one of them, somewhere under all that exterior stuff, is made in the likeness of Almighty God himself. We dare not reduce them to statistics alone.  

 

      Friends, Jesus is not suggesting that we begin excessively creative programs, that we do the social equivalent of a circus high-wire act or that we perform miracles. He simply asks us to see God (and by extension, Jesus) in the people around us. And so perhaps it would be a useful exercise for us to try, as often as we can, to say an actual person's name whenever we are dealing with broad categories of social problems (as inevitably we will do).

 

      When someone begins talking about "the homeless," say the name Juanita to yourself, because maybe she's a precious person you met one night when volunteering at the New London Community Meal Center Whenever you hear people speaking generally about the education deficits of inner city youth, speak the name of Jeremy, because maybe you met Jeremy when volunteering as a mentor at one of Groton’s middle schools.

 

      When you hear someone talking about kids on welfare, summon to your mind and to your mouth the name of Selena--see her pretty little face, recall the sweetness of her voice, and act based on the knowledge that every kid out there on welfare is like Selena (and so like God and like Jesus).

 

      But suppose you find you can't do that. You can't repeat the name of a hungry child because you've never met one. You can't see in your mind's eye the face of a homeless mother or father because you've never spoken with one. That alone may indicate the first thing you need to do, and I also can hardly claim that for any category you might name, I myself have a batch of real names ready-to-hand. We all have work to do, it seems, really to know and then care for the other in our midst (who is also Christ in our midst).

 

      If we take Matthew 25 seriously and more-or-less at face value, then we cannot help but be reminded of the famous line from St. Francis of Assisi : "Preach the gospel at all times and, if necessary, use words." We know that we are saved by grace, and not by what we do. The Jesus who speaks in Matthew 25 knows that, of course. It is his gospel, after all! But he seems to know also that the faith and the salvation that come from divine grace create new perspectives. Grace opens eyes to see things that we maybe would miss otherwise.  Grace lets us know that if one day we ask the question, "Lord, when did we see you?"

 

      Jesus' answer will quite probably be, "When not?"

 

      Will you pray with me now?


St. Andrew Presbyterian Church, Groton , CT

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