To be like Jesus here
Proper 29A | Matthew 25:31-46
We are finally arriving at the end. The end of our liturgical year. Nearing the end of our calendar year. And as we follow along with the disciples, we near the end of their journey with Jesus to his destination: the Temple in Jerusalem.
For us, we’ve spent weeks going over the confrontations, the refutations, the teachings, and for the last two weeks, the dark parables of the bridesmaids and the talents. It has been difficult, confusing, and emotionally convicting.
For the disciples, it has been one day.
And that day is nearing its end. This is it.
Here Jesus does something a little different.
He depicts a future conversation: about a great sorting of the people. A sort that, I think, we’re inclined to say is to sift out the good from the bad. So the good people can go to the good place and the bad can go to the bad place.
But this isn’t how Jesus ever really talks about it. We can all see why we think that. But it isn’t really the point of the teaching or the substance of it.
Jesus says that in this future sort, the king will say to those gathered at his right hand:
“Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world”.
Do those words sound familiar? They should…
‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
-Matthew 5:3
In the Beatitudes, Jesus lays out the character of the Kin-dom, and particularly, its inheritors. Those who are poor in spirit, in mourning, meek, who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, pure in heart, the peacemakers, and the persecuted. These are the people at the king’s right hand. The ones who inherit the kin-dom.
How? When?
The natural next question is how do we get counted among them? Jesus knows us so well. Knowing that we want to be “good”. Or, more precisely, counted among the good. [Whether we actually want to be good is debatable. We want to count as good.]
And Jesus tells them. When you served me in my time of need. You fed me, clothed me, visited me, protected me.
Of course Jesus so easily predicts how we would respond to this confusing and heartbreaking truth. That, while every bit of this should be clear to us, it isn’t. Because we’re still worried about ourselves. About being good. We can’t see it fully.
So he makes it plain.
“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.”
In short, he’s saying: When you serve people in their need, you serve me.
Seeing Jesus
You may have heard my own struggle with this. I live off of 7th at the south end of town, so I drive down 7th almost every day. And in the morning, there is always someone sleeping on a bench along the way.
And as I drive by, I say “Hi, Jesus.” And I pray for mercy. Because I see people in need and I drive right by. I’m the synagogue leader in the parable of the Good Samaritan.
And also, because I don’t want to be counted among the goats, I feel the need to rationalize. Not for the sake of integrity to the gospel or to be clear about what Jesus is “really” saying. But because I’m afraid that I’m bad. And I don’t want to be.
And I also don’t want to stop and help.
And I also want to justify the poverty we all tolerate. So that I can sleep better at night.
The point isn’t to make me feel better.
It may be why some people suggest we come to church. To feel better. Or the inverse: to avoid feeling bad. But proclaiming the Good News doesn’t always feel good. Sometimes it is convicting.
And the thing we probably forget is that it was convicting to the disciples, too.
Jesus just told them a parable, the parable of the bridesmaids in which the “wise” bridesmaids said to the “foolish” ones the very thing the disciples wanted to say to the crowds when they were hungry.
Go into town and feed yourselves. The thing Jesus told them not to do. Instead saying You feed them.
Our fear of being left out of the kin-dom colors our view the wrong shade. Most likely green. We think it is a competition with winners and losers; the good ones and the bad ones; the good sports and the cheaters. But we’re all weak disciples. And if we get to be counted among the good, it’s by the grace of God.
Being Good
We’ve filled the boxes in the back full of toys. Because there are kids in this community that wouldn’t have Christmas otherwise. And even more importantly, we’re helping shore up the dignity of parents who struggle to provide for their kids.
In four years, Manna from Seven has gone from serving a hundred people with food for the weekend to over three thousand this past weekend.
And yet, even these testimonies to the good miss the mark. Because we’re still trying to rate ourselves. To evaluate whether or not we are a thing that is objectively defined by Jesus at the last day as “good.” That is not what we’re doing here.
Remember what Jesus said to the pious young man who came to him, asking how to inherit eternal life. This is the exact same question. Now it’s on all of our hearts. Because Jesus is putting it there. Because he wants us to wrestle with it.
And the answer for us is as simple and exasperating as it was for him.
Have you kept the commandments? Yes.
All of them? Including the ones about protecting dignity and never exploiting the poor? Yes.
Then there’s one thing left to do. Let go of all your possessions. Give material wealth to the poor. And follow Jesus.
The astute listener will notice that this is, in fact, three things. Except that it is one.
The Good Trinity
In the way that loving God and neighbor is really one command, following Jesus involves letting go and meeting the material needs of others.
It is beautifully simple and infuriatingly undefinable.
Because, like the pious young man, this doesn’t answer the question with definitive boundaries. We don’t get to walk away and say I’ve checked all the boxes so I’m good.
This is the underlying irony of the pious young man’s question. He’s described as young. Imagine he’s mid-twenties. Out of school. Has an important job; makes six figures. He’s at church every week, and tithes. And he is as close to perfect a person as they come. Everyone loves him; he’s even one of the most reliable volunteers at the soup kitchen.
He walks up to Jesus and asks for absolute, 100% certainty that he will be counted among the good.
And of course Jesus can’t give him that. But he can say that this young man is lacking something in his faith. Humility. Poverty in spirit. Loss. Meekness. A hunger and thirst for righteousness. Mercy. Purity of heart. And if he follows Jesus, he’ll make him into a peacemaker.
We get to serve
We usually forget how the disciples respond to this moment. They think Jesus is telling them something hard to do. So Peter reminds Jesus that they’ve left everything behind.
And you know Jesus is just smiling…because they’re doing it. If anyone can feel secure in their status—about where they will be counted—it is them. The people serving the poor. The ones feeding the hungry. Visiting the imprisoned. The people making community with their neighbors in need.
We don’t get to rig the game so that God rewards us. We get to live in ways that dignify the humanity of our neighbors. This is the gift we’re given. To make the kin-dom here! To make this place into a vibrant beacon of hope, love, and faith in our neighborhood.
We get to serve. God and our neighbors.
We get to love. God and our neighbors.
Let us give thanks for that. That we get to live out a life—we aren’t destined to condemnation.
We are counted among the sheep when we serve Christ’s sheep. When we sacrifice for others. Being sheep with sheep. Loving, hoping, being.
We get to serve, to love like Jesus with all of our hearts. With gratitude and thanksgiving.