So, how many of you felt a little uncomfortable with Jesus’s story this morning? About the sheep and the goats, and the going away into eternal punishment?
It’s possible that the extended sheep metaphors of our faith mean that this story goes just in one ear and out the other, but when we stop and listen, a lot of contemporary American Christians feel a bit uncomfortable with any images of “final” judgement and eternal devil fire. So if you felt a little squirmy – you’re in friendly company.
But there’s another important question in this story.
How many of you felt quite comfortable – even enthusiastic – at hearing Jesus’ story today?
How many of us liked Jesus firmly separating the “good flock” from the “bad flock”? Or condemning those who failed to feed the hungry, visit prisoners, or clothe the naked?
Because it’s possible that being enthusiastic about this scene was the original point.
That Matthew re-tells this story of Jesus’s to comfort and encourage his community, his own possibly anxious and vulnerable church.
One idea that’s apparently been around for centuries, though it was new to me this week, is that this is a story about Jesus judging how non-Christian people treat Christians. Jesus, telling this story, is very clear that this is about judging “all the nations”; everyone on earth. And in other parts of Matthew’s gospel, the followers of Jesus are linked with “the least” and the lowly…
So, this might be a story about how Jesus will respond to people who support or disregard the small, vulnerable, and not-very-respected Christian communities who first heard this story.
I’m not sure it would apply in the same way to Christian communities in a world like ours, with religious tax breaks, legislative and judicial support for “Christian” holidays and policies (uneven as that might be), and a history of having “Christian” hands on the reins of power for centuries.
But Jesus’ early poor, disrespected, followers could have been very encouraged to know that Jesus rewards those who care for the vulnerable – and condemns those who ignore and disrespect the “least” and “little”.
It’s also probable that Matthew’s telling his community – that Jesus wants us to hear – that when we do the hard work of generously, attentively, thoughtfully nurturing and supporting the “least of us” – the people no one wants to hang out with, we will be recognized for it; will be rewarded.
And possible that some of the folks in the first community to read this story (or in our community now) will be glad to hear that the folks who ignore the needs of the vulnerable are not going to get away with it, not going to get a free pass to the kingdom of heaven.
(I admit, when I feel like being a faithful Christian is hard work, I do like to think that Jesus sees through freeloaders and posers, and has no patience for that nonsense.)
So – do you feel a little encouraged by this story, today?
I certainly want to.
And…I’m still a little bit nervous.
Because I…well, I’m pretty aware that my track record on feeding the hungry, quenching thirst, visiting the sick and the prisoners, and clothing the naked is….mixed. (Though I did remember to bring a coat for the coat drive!)
I definitely do help some vulnerable people some of the time. But I also definitely miss people. Or just feel like I don’t have the time, or the money, or the energy this time – and someone’s need isn’t met.
So I can’t tell you for sure whether Jesus would line me up with the sheep or the goats.
And the story doesn’t have a third option.
And one thing the story does say is that every single person in Jesus’ story is surprised by being rewarded or blamed. Nobody had the answer key for “how to enter heaven”. It’s the things we didn’t know were important that matter.
I really don’t know how this is going to work out.
But I do know Jesus.
We – you, and I, and the people Matthew first wrote this story down for – none of us know how things are going to work out at the end, but we do know Jesus.
We know – not just from this story, but from so, so, many Jesus stories, that Jesus definitely cares about the vulnerable: the hungry or thirsty, the sick and the oppressed. And we did all just hear this story. So neither you nor I are going to be surprised, eventually, that Jesus cares if we cared about the vulnerable, too.
We might wind up being surprised about just which vulnerable people Jesus wanted us to care for (some needs come across as annoyances, after all), but we do know that loving the people Jesus loves really matters.
We know this well enough that we make it part of our commitment in baptism.
And many of us who find our spiritual home in the Episcopal Church subset of Jesus’ people find caring for the vulnerable, loving our neighbors, or respecting the dignity of every person to be more accessible than “proclaiming the gospel” with word and deed – another important thing that Jesus tells us to do!
So there is a lot to be encouraged about: encouraged that living our faith, in those hopefully accessible ways, is recognized by Jesus, when no one else is noticing. Is rewarded, is part of our invitation to eternal joy. Is bringing us closer to Jesus, all along.
And that – well, that might be the other encouraging thing about this story.
The “closer to Jesus” part, I mean.
Because you may have noticed in this story that a big part of the surprise expressed by all the people being honored or condemned about feeding the hungry, connecting with the isolated, or sheltering the vulnerable, is that they all say “but we didn’t know it was you, Jesus”.
I think it’s probably quite true that you and I often won’t recognize Jesus in the people we meet, support, ignore, or enjoy day-by-day. Even though we promise in baptism (and will be invited to promise again, today) that we’ll seek and serve Christ in all persons. I suspect that a lot of the time we won’t recognize Jesus in traffic, in a classroom, at the grocery store, on the other end of that email.
But we do know Jesus.
We know Jesus through the bible stories, the prayers, the communion we share, here.
We might not always recognize Jesus in those around us, but we know Jesus, who has reached out in love to every one of us when we were hungry or thirsty, in body or spirit; vulnerable or isolated or afraid.
We know Jesus as the one who loves us – loves us more than we can possibly imagine – and invites us to love God back.
And I think that’s the unspoken point of Jesus’ story.
That we don’t know how God’s judgment will ultimately go. We don’t know, really, how God will judge us, or judge others. We can’t know. There will always be surprises.
But what we can know – no, who we can know – is Jesus.
And that’s another thing we promise in our baptism – that we will know Jesus. Turn to Jesus, trust Jesus – get to know, and keep knowing Jesus, even when we don’t understand Jesus (or ourselves).
Know the Jesus who loves the most vulnerable, hungriest, loneliest parts of us, and demands that we love that, too – in others and in ourselves.
The Jesus who is fierce and uncompromising in that love – and makes that fierce love the standard we are called – and even promised – to share.
It’s not especially comfortable – that love, or this story.
But it is – it must be – encouraging.
Encouraging in reminding us that – whatever we do not know about what happens at the end of the story – we do know Jesus, who is there at the end of our story.
And encouraging us, today and always, to know Jesus more.
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