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Christ the King (A)
November 22, 2020
Matthew 25:31-46
INTRODUCTION
Today we come to the end of the church liturgical year with a celebration of Christ the King Sunday, sometimes called “Reign of Christ Sunday.” Interestingly, this is a fairly recent addition to the western liturgical calendar. It was instituted in 1925 by Pope Pius XI. That was a world that was ravaged by World War I, and the hope was that by lifting up Jesus’ humble kingship, the Church and the world might find a needed alternative to empire, nationalism, consumerism, and secularism. Though our circumstances have changed in the past 95 years, the need for this alternative sort of reign certainly has not! We are still constantly reckoning with the goals and ways of earthly leaders versus the way that God rules.
So as you listen to today’s texts, just keep that question in mind: how is the leadership and rule being described in these readings different from the sort of leadership and rule we see from world leaders? Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Some time ago, I saw a meme on Facebook that was a picture of Jesus knocking on a door. Jesus was of course fair-skinned, brown hair and blue eyes, wearing his trademark spotless white robe with a blue sash over one shoulder. The caption read, “If Jesus knocked at your door, would you answer?” The person who posted it said, “Of course!” And who wouldn’t open the door to such a Jesus, who looks like the one on every Sunday School classroom wall? As a rule of thumb, I always open the door to anyone with a halo encircling a perfectly coiffed head.
But today’s famous (or is it infamous?) gospel story challenges our certainty that we would open to the door if Jesus knocked. What if the person knocking was wearing an orange jumpsuit? What if her clothes were tattered and insufficient? What if you had just seen him standing by the offramp with a cardboard sign asking for help? What if she smelled of days in the hot sun with no shower, her hair matted, her a child in her arms, and when she opened her mouth a jumble of foreign sounds came out?
In other words: what if the person asking for help was hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, sick, or in prison? Would we be so quick then to open our hearts and our homes to this person?
I have a confession, my friends: I’m pretty sure I am a goat in this scenario.
But I’m also pretty sure we are all goats, at least some of the time. Because I would bet that each of us are convicted by this text in some way. I remember several years ago, I was on my way to church to lead a Bible study on this very text, and I found myself at a red light next to a man with a sign asking for help. And you know what I thought? “All I have is a $20.” And then for good measure I assured myself that if I gave him that $20, he’d probably just use it for drugs or something, so withholding it was probably in his best interest. Then off I drove to lead a Bible study on helping “the least of these.” I am ashamed of my hypocrisy that day (and the many other days something similar has happened), but I also have a hunch that you all get it – I suspect most if not all of us have had a similar thought at some point. And yet, here it is: “As you did not do it to the least of these members of my family, you did not do it to me.” Yes, I saw Jesus standing on the corner that day, asking for help, and I left him there.
Isn’t this a strange image for a king? Today, as I mentioned, is Christ the King Sunday. When we think of kings, we think of power and riches, wisdom and strength, glory and might! And in fact, these are words we use to describe God as well, when we think about Him crowned and on his heavenly throne. Yet in today’s Gospel about the last judgment, Jesus describes himself as the very opposite of those things – identifying with those we see as weak, helpless or in need.
For some, the possibility of Jesus being needy is downright offensive. In 2013, Canadian sculptor Timothy Schmalz debuted this sculpture in Toronto. [Show picture of “Homeless Jesus.”] At first, it looks like a non-descript homeless person, with face covered by a blanket. It’s quite realistic – in fact, someone famously called the police upon seeing it, thinking it was a real homeless person on a bench! But if you look closely at the feet, they give away the person’s identity – you can see on the feet the telltale scars from nails. The non-descript homeless person is Jesus. Schmalz’s sculpture was first offered to two different churches, both of which declined. Since it was installed, several other casts have been made and installed all over the world, including one in Buffalo, and reception has been mixed. Some have called it an “insulting depiction” of Jesus that “demeans the neighborhood.” Some have called it “creepy” and uncomfortable. On the other hand, people will often sit on the bench beside homeless Jesus, hand on his scarred feet, and pray. It appears Homeless Jesus is as appalling as he is compelling.
However you feel about the sculpture, the image Jesus paints of himself in today’s text has a similar effect: though we love this idea that when we serve the least of these, we serve Christ himself (at least I love it!), we also prefer not to associate Jesus with “those people” who make us uncomfortable. I want a Jesus who doesn’t make me squirm, who instead brings me comfort in my own affliction. I mean, I’m okay with him suffering no the cross, but only because it helps me to know that he understands my plight and brings about salvation, but in the end, I still prefer my Jesus to be powerful beyond measure, and able to bear all the burdens of the world – not sleeping under a blanket on a park bench.
Now: Jesus is that powerful, of course. But his power is not in spite of, but because of his willingness to suffer, to be so close to the suffering of this world that he is living it, right alongside those who suffer today. This is important, because there are so many who are suffering today. Heavy on our hearts right now is that Covid-19 cases are soaring across the country – a million new cases in the US just this past week. The dramatic spread is largely because millions of people are refusing to wear masks, and attending large gatherings, even indoors. This sort of behavior flies in the face of caring for “the least of these,” the very ones with whom Jesus identifies. We know now that following guidelines isn’t only about us and our own safety, it is about the safety of others, especially those in vulnerable populations. So in that way, balking at guidelines to satisfy our own needs and desires of the moment is a refusal to see and tend to our most vulnerable neighbors, and so also a refusal to see and tend to Jesus. Yes, it is our king Jesus who is lying in a hospital bed, struggling to breathe. Our Jesus lost his job during the first wave of the pandemic, and has struggled since to feed himself and his family. His kids are growing out of their clothes and he can’t afford to buy them new ones. Our king, our Jesus, is one of millions stuck in prison cells, feeling expendable as so few notice or care that the virus is ripping through jails and prisons at an unstoppable rate.
Yes, Jesus is in all those places. That is where our king chooses to be.
But it’s not just where God chooses to be. It is also in those places that God’s love is made most profoundly known. And so if we want to know Jesus, see Jesus, be with Jesus… if we want to, as that meme I mentioned said, open the door to Jesus, this is where we will find him: in the faces of the least, the lost, the broken and the wounded, in all of the un-pretty places of life.
Next week Advent begins, and we will we turn our hearts toward watching, waiting, and hoping for God to show up in the un-pretty place of a stable. We will remember that God has been showing us all along that his love is made known to us in the humble, creepy, demeaning places of the world: among the animals, with the strangers and outcasts, on a cross. We will see that kingship to God means presence with and love for us in these places. And we will see, as we see every day, that this is love God shows to us even when we are more goat than sheep. We are all goats, every one of us. Yet Jesus loves us still, is present with us still, and saves us still. Thanks be to God.
Let us pray… Suffering God, we thank you that you are present in all the places that need you the most. As we strive to love and serve our neighbor, open our eyes to see that we are serving you, and open our hearts to receive your love. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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