Matthew 25:31-46
November
22, 2020
Once upon a time B.C. – before Covid
– my sweet husband used to play with his good friend, Les Kerr, at the
Nashville airport. For a few hours, they would sing and play their guitars and
welcome people to Music City. Brent tells me that occasionally Les would tell
people arriving from their flights, “Welcome to Memphis!” just to see if anyone
was really listening. But most of the time their music added to the ambience and
welcoming atmosphere of the airport.
They would play at the stage just
outside of the final security doors people would walk through on their way to
baggage claim. So, Brent would have the opportunity to watch folks who stood
outside of those doors waiting for someone to arrive. Watching these people was
like watching small moments of the human drama play out.
At
one of these gigs Brent saw a group of folks who were having some sort of
reunion – whether it was family or friends, he did not know and couldn’t tell. A
small cluster of folks had gathered to greet a woman traveler. As Brent played,
he watched as their friend or family member arrived. This group of folks were
talking and hugging and catching up. But there was one woman who was part of
the group waiting who hung back. She was obviously nervous or anxious about
seeing the woman who had just arrived. Brent told me that as he watched, the
woman who had traveled to Nashville made some sort of indication to this
anxious woman. Brent could not tell if she made a physical gesture to her. He
could not hear if she said something to her. But whatever she did, it gave the
other woman permission to approach. And when she did get closer, they both fell
into each other’s arms and began to sob. Not just cry, sob. Whatever anxiety
and tension there had been before was gone. They were reunited.
This reunion made a huge impression
on Brent. And even though I was not there to witness it, I feel as though I
have seen it through his telling. Brent and I both like to people watch, and we
both do the same thing while we watch. We wonder about the stories behind the
people. We wonder about where they have been and where they might be going. We
speculate about what drives them, what motivates them – or what doesn’t. We
both like to think about all the human dramas, the big ones and the small ones,
that may be playing out in those few seconds that a person passes through our
line of vision.
But people watching is a luxury in
many ways. We don’t always have time to sit and watch others go by. Most of the
time we are too caught up in our own big or small dramas to sit still for a few
minutes and take notice of what’s happening around us. More often than not, we
are generally too caught up in the mundanities of our everyday lives to really
observe the world around us.
And it shows.
The passage before us today, The
Judgment of the Nations, as the heading reads in my Bible, is the last story in
chapter 25. Except for Epiphany and the coming of the wise men, I believe this
will be the last time we deal extensively with Matthew’s gospel for another
three years. But what a passage to end with!
As soon as Jesus finishes these
words, the chief priests and elders will gather at the home of the high priest,
Caiaphas, and plot to kill Jesus. Jesus knows his time is coming, it’s drawing
ever near, so he will not mince 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. 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 and hand and the goats at his 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.’”
These righteous people, these
righteous nations, that have been stationed at the right hand of the Son of Man
have no idea what he’s talking about. When, they want to know. When did we see
you, Lord? When was it that we saw your face? When were you right in front of
us, and we took care of you? Fed you? Clothed you? Cared for you? Gave you
something to drink? When have we ever visited you in prison? When did we see
you, Lord? When did we see you?
Then the Son of Man answers 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.”
Now, of course, he turns to those
who are seated at his left.
“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.”
And the ones on his left are equally
astonished. Wait a minute?! When did we see you, Lord, hungry or thirsty? When
did we see you and not welcome you or naked and not clothe you? When did we see
you in prison and not visit you?! Believe us, Lord, if we had know that was
you, we would have done all of the above.
But the Son of Man says again,
“Truly I tell you, just as you did
not do it to the least of these, you did not do it to me.”
Both groups of people are astonished
at Jesus’ words. They are astonished to find themselves in the group that they
are in, the side of him that they are on. So, what is the difference between
them? What is the difference between the sheep and the goats? Neither group of
people were looking for the Lord. Neither group of folks recognized Jesus in the
least of these. But the sheep took care of the least of these regardless, and
the goats did not.
Clearly, from what Jesus says, we
all want to be sheep. Right? That should be the end of the sermon. We want to
be sheep, and in order to be sheep, we must care for the least of these. And if
we are caring for the least of these, we should be on the side of the sheep, so
amen, alleluia, let’s go get lunch.
Except … as I’ve said in these last
few weeks, one thing I have realized in dealing with Mathew’s parables this
year is that it is dangerous to assume. It is dangerous to assume that you know
which group you’ll end up in. It is dangerous to assume that you have a lock on
being a sheep. I’m not saying that as a dire warning. I’m not pointing the
finger of judgment at anyone else. It has just hit home with me that I cannot
assume I will be one of those wise bridesmaids or a servant willing to risk
everything for the sake of the master. I cannot assume that I will
automatically be a sheep. And it’s not because I don’t try to minister to the
least of these. I do. We all do. But seeing Jesus in the least of these means
that we have to see the face of Christ in every person that we see. We must see
every person as a child of God. And I know I do not do that.
Think about those people Brent saw
in the airport. Think about that moment – of forgiveness, repentance,
restoration, reconciliation, whatever it was – think about those people being
Jesus. The woman who was anxious was Jesus. The woman who welcomed her into her
arms was Jesus. Every person swirling past them in the crowds, they were all
Jesus. They were all children of God. But how often do we take the time to
notice?
Perhaps it is noticing that lies at
the heart of this passage. Perhaps it is taking the time to really look at
people, really trying to see them, see past the walls and the fronts and the
personas that they display for the public view. Maybe we would be more willing
to help, to care, to love the least of these if we noticed them. I’m not
arguing that those folks in the goat category were innocent of the charges
Jesus levied against them. I wonder if maybe they would have helped even if
they didn’t realize they were looking at Jesus, but they just did not notice.
Maybe they would have been more like the sheep but did not look. They didn’t
help because they didn’t look.
And I’m also not saying that I
believe those people who were at Jesus’ right hand earned their way into that
spot. We are saved by grace alone. That is a fundamental tenet of our faith. We
are saved by grace alone. But grace, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer put it, is not
cheap. Grace is God seeing us, really seeing us and knowing us and loving us,
even though we fail and fall short and are too often completely unworthy. So,
the grace that we are shown, the love that we are given, compels us to look at
others, to notice, to see Christ shining from the eyes of every person we meet.
We just have to notice, and when we do notice, we must act.
When did we you see Lord? When did
we see you?
Truly
I tell you, when you looked into the face of another, into the face of the
least of these, and recognized me. That’s when you saw me. How did you respond?
What did you do when you looked into my eyes?
Let all of God’s children say,
“Alleluia.” Amen.
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