Today's scripture reading is the last of a series of parables about the time when time comes to an end, when God's full glory is revealed and human life is seen and understood for what it was and what it was not. In this last teaching of Jesus to his disciples, we find a parable that portrays a time of judgment when all the people whoever were are gathered in front of the throne of the risen Christ.
It's preceded by the story of the servants who were faithful or unfaithful while the householder was away, by the parable of the bridesmaids with oil or no oil in their lamps, by the teaching of the talents which were used well or not used at all. In each one of the parables in this series, we find a stark contrast drawn between the people who have behaved commendably and the ones who have behaved deplorably.
Scholarly opinion on interpretation of this parable differs. Some read it as a judgment specifically for people who are not a part of the Christian community. That interpretation is supported by the use of the word "nations" which can also be translated as "Gentiles" for the ones who are gathered in front of the judge. Some interpreters even understand the parable to be about how non-Christians have treated Christians with rewards for people who have treated Christians well. Others read the story of the last judgment as having general applicability without regard for religious affiliation.
I do not hear the story of the last judgment as applying only to the "gentiles" however we might define them. Instead it speaks to a kind of minimum standard of behavior which applies to me and to other Christians at least as much as it applies to people who are a part of other religious traditions or of no religious faith at all.
What is clear is that there will be a judgment, that there are lines to be drawn between the ones who are blessed and the ones who are condemned and that the standards of judgment are surprising. Jesus' words here, as in most of the Gospels, are not comfortable. I'm reading Matthew 25: 31-46 from the New Revised Standard Version. Listen for the Word of God.
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.
Matthew gives us a dazzling scene. Here is the Great Judge in his full glory, a heavenly Monarch on the celestial throne with all the angels accompanying him. We are in the divine court and it is as far beyond Windsor Palace or the Vatican as they are beyond a throne built of plywood and glitter for the king and queen of the high school prom. Only the great mosaics of the orthodox churches can begin to help us see such a Monarch. Look up into the enormous stern-faced image of Christus Pantocrator and you have a glimmer of an idea. Imagine all the gold and purple and brilliance you've ever thought of and then add more. Conjure up any honest moment of awe you have ever experienced and double it. Now add a crowd scene stretching out to infinity. In front of Christ all the people of the world are gathered, while the Christ separates them, some to the right side of the throne, others to the left side, some to blessing and some to terror. It is an awe-inspiring picture.
But the reason for the separation of the people is more startling than the setting for it. The separation is because of paper cups of water and peanut butter sandwiches wrapped in a paper towel. It's about cleaning up vomit, visits to the state prison, and a greeting for a stranger. Who would imagine that such a regal figure as the Christ on the cosmic throne would even notice a cup of coffee or a stop at the jail?
Yet still more surprising is the Monarch's identification with the needy ones. It isn't just that the Christ sees what we do. No, Christ is the recipient of our acts of our kindness and mercy, even the ones so small as to be embarrassing. "I was hungry and you fed me... I was in prison and you visited me." When we hear it, we are amazed, for we know perfectly well that we never saw that Monarch hungry, never even imagined that there could be any need or want that went unmet. "When did we see you thirsty or naked or a stranger?" we ask.
The answer is clear. "Just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me." The sisters and brothers of the Great Judge are the hungry, the thirsty, the sick, the stranger, the homeless. They are the weak ones who cannot take care for themselves and so must have the help of the strong. They are the people we can easily pass by and never see. A woman sitting slumped over on the curb of a downtown street corner, a man standing near the subway entrance with his hand out, a dirty-faced kid watching people going in and out of the fast-food store in the mall. And sometimes they are people we know quite well. There are some people in need we look at and say, "Of course. Here is the face of Christ looking out at me."
A courageous woman living with multiple sclerosis in its most destructive guise is dependent on her family and caregivers for almost everything. Even the simplest tasks are now more than she can manage. Yet her unquenchable spirit keeps her curious and vital and funny. It is easy, after all, to see Christ in her eyes. And I remember my friend Bob. When he died of cancer, he was surrounded by friends and family, cared for by wonderful hospice nurses and volunteers in his comfortable home. The church choir had come a few days earlier to sing to him. Though their music was diminished by the lack of his sweet tenor voice with them, it was still filled with love. As he gradually slipped away from life, it was easy to see the face of Jesus in Bob's face. There was no trouble in recognizing the sweetness of his soul and the goodness of his life. Yes, Holy One, I think. I know you were there. I saw you through him.
Martie is another story. An off-again, on-again drunk since she was seventeen, by the time she was forty, she looked sixty and had the health problems of eighty. A consummate con artist, she has worn out her family with her demands. She always needs another ten or twenty dollars, a bus pass now, a food certificate tomorrow. She will look at you with a crooked smile she hopes will appease you and tell you she also needs a little cigarette money if it wouldn't be too much to ask. There are always reasons for her financial problems. Last winter it was a broken arm. This week somebody stole her purse. A year ago it was an uncaring social worker insisting that she take a job that Martie said was beneath her education. The only kind of help she wants is money to buy liquor and the only help she needs is to do what seems impossible for her. Get sober. Martie is a lifetime project often in need of a toothbrush and usually in need of a bath. Who could be expected to see the face of Jesus in Martie? We are. " Just as you have done it to the least of these, my sisters and brothers."
If only we had known. "When did we see you?" we want to know. How could any of us have been expected to recognize the mighty Monarch and the shaking man weeping behind the window in the visitation room at the jail? How could we ever see the judge and lover of all humanity in the mother of a homeless family as she alternately hugs her children fiercely and yells at them equally fiercely? What kind of crazy imagination would it take to see the Holy One in the schizophrenic who has quit taking his medication and wanders in muttering to himself on Sunday morning? Who would ever think of catching a glimpse of the Christ in the old man who is so afraid of dying alone and in so much pain that he regularly scares off the people who could help him if he would let them. If only we had known.
But we do know, after all. There is only one standard that decides eternal blessing or reward. It's not what we say we believe. Not how eloquently or how often we pray. Not whether we read the Bible every day. Not even whether our personal behavior has always been impeccable. Those matter for other reasons, mostly for the sake of our own wellbeing, but there is one standard in this parable of the last judgment. It's a simple question. "What have we done to help someone else?" It's not how hard we work at church, not how well informed we are about every theological nuance, not whether we are straight or gay. It's not how pure, how noble, or how otherwise impressive we are. The question the Christ asks of us is this: Where is the shape of justice and compassion visible in your life?
We know. Of course, we do. We know that blessing or loss are the choices. We know that if we live only with an eye for the reward we really haven't done anything. No matter what we say, if we do it for the sake of earning points, it's pointless. A life lived only for self ends by destroying self. And life lived without the willingness to take a risk for someone else is a dead end. All of this makes it both simpler and much more complicated for us. What we do because we must, because we are expected to, or because we are paid to may be all very well in its own right, but it simply is not enough. The words of Jesus to us are about the actions of gentleness and justice and compassion which we do without having to think about them as the expression of who we are. The actions which really matter are not chosen self-consciously or performed with an eye on the video cam in the corner. Rather they grow out of our deepest, truest identity as blessed sheep or terrified goats.
Today's reading from the Bible is Christianity 101. It can and does get more complicated than this, but it never gets more important. For the first and clearly the last question that is asked is "Who did you help?" Those who helped others without being required to, without expecting reward in return, are the ones who are blessed. Just as you did it to the least of these who are members of my family.
We know. Of course, we do. What we do matters. The people we have helped or not helped are Christ for us. How we choose makes a difference even--and especially in all the little ways that no one ever sees or knows--no one except the Friend so intimate that we are never really apart. No one except the Judge so watchful that everything we do is seen. No one except Jesus Christ.
Please join me in prayer.
Great God, help us to be generous in giving help where help is needed. Give us grace to see you in the least ones through whom no recognition will come. Help us to know you in the little ones from whom no reward will be given. Teach us to be wise enough to discern your presence even in those by whom no thanks are likely to be said. We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, our Judge and our Advocate. Amen.