Text: Matthew 25:31-46
Theme: “Not If, But When”
Christ the King (Reign of Christ)/Thanksgiving Sunday
November 20, 2011
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau
IN THE NAME OF JESUS
31 “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. 32 All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 33 He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.
34 “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
37 “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? 38 When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? 39 When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
40 “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
41 “Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 42 For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.’
44 “They also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?’
45 “He will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’
46 “Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”
Just this past week, while searching for some Christmas sheet music, I came across the piano score for the Lerner and Loewe musical, My Fair Lady. I’m sorry to disappoint the younger folks among us, but they probably won’t be aware of songs such as “Get Me to the Church on Time”,
“On the Street Where You Live”, or “I’ve Grown Accustomed to Her Face.” Nevertheless, many of you can, indeed, remember the chemistry – as they say today – between Rex Harrison and Julie Andrews in My Fair Lady.
The story of My Fair Lady is adapted from a play, written by George Bernard Shaw, called Pygmalion. Shaw, an Irishman, was a Nobel Prize winner. As I sat there on the floor of my office perusing the music of My Fair Lady, I remembered a few things about Shaw. He was, essentially, an atheist. He did not believe in God. But he did believe that humanity would evolve to such a degree that it, humanity, would eventually take on god-like characteristics. In a 1931 play, Too True to Be Good, one of Shaw’s characters sums up what many think is Shaw’s atheistic position – his atheistic faith, if you will. Listen to this:
The science I pinned my faith to is bankrupt: its tales were more foolish than all the miracles of the priests, its cruelties more horrible than all the atrocities of the Inquisition. Its spread of enlightenment has been a spread of cancer: its counsels that were to have established the millennium have led straight to European suicide. And I—I who believed in it as no religious fanatic has ever believed in his superstition! For its sake I helped to destroy the faith of millions of worshippers in the temples of a thousand creeds. And now look at me and behold the supreme tragedy of the atheist who has lost his faith!
As I survey the spiritual, religious, intellectual, and cultural landscape of 2011, I see lots of George Bernard Shaws – lots of thoughtful and intelligent atheists who have lost their faith. Likewise, I see lots of agnostics who have lost their faith. I see lots of folks who are not sure of what they are not sure of anymore. On the deepest levels of life, where the great questions of the ages are asked, we find ourselves living a nomadic existence. We wander around looking for something – anything! – that can hold and protect and nourish and empower our fondest hopes for life! We want to want to believe. We want to be able to wish upon a star and have it make no difference who we are; since when we wish upon a star our dreams come true. We want to believe that somewhere over the rainbow way up high, there’s a land that we heard of once in a lullaby.
But the minute we start thinking this way or feeling this way – BOOM!, doubt enters in. So its faith then doubt then faith then doubt – and around and around it goes. We get spiritually dizzy. Stop the merry-go-round! I want to get off! Have you ever felt like that?
According to their commercials, the Metropolitan Life company sells its products to people who face the “ifs” in life. What if? What if? What if? What’s going to happen? What will the future bring? Who knows? But whatever happens tomorrow, it would be nice to have some insurance for those “ifs” in life.
Newsflash: Jesus Christ was never one for “if”s. In today’s Gospel reading for Christ the King Sunday, the Last Sunday in the Church Year, He does not say “If the Son of Man returns.” Quite to the contrary, he says “When the Son of Man comes in His glory… .”
He first arrived on the scene, the Scripture’s teach, as helpless infant lying in a manger-bed. He was born on the run – in a little backwoods, two-bit, hayseed town called Bethlehem. He was wrapped not in warm, sterile blankets but in swaddling rags. There was no disinfectant soap on-hand. There was only the tender vulnerability. Who – in his or her right mind – could think that the God of the universe would wear diapers? Such a thought is the opposite of intellectual. Why, such a view is unenlightened. We can’t have that.
But that’s what we’ve got, and that’s who we have in Jesus. His reign, His Kingship, will always be in dispute. Of all people who ever lived, it was Jesus who knew that best. But in His mind and soul – in God’s heart and soul! – there was no dispute. As I said, he was never one for “if”s. He says He will come again – not in grace (which can be disputed or rejected), but in glory (which cannot be disputed or rejected).
The Gospel reading teaches us the He is coming again as Lord Sabaoth: the Lord of the heavenly armies. He’s going to sit down on His throne, and everyone – past, present, and future – will gather before Him. There will be no plea-bargaining, no lawyers, no deals cut, no super committees. But there will be a reckoning; there will be judgment.
As Jesus describes it, he does so in a visual way. There are two groups: the sheep on the right and the goats on the left. First word goes to the sheep on the right: “Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”
And the sheep, the righteous, are given their moment in court. They reply: “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?”
The Judge, Christ the King, replies: “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”
Next, he turns to the goats and the decree goes forth: “Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.”
Those on the left, the goats, are also given their moment to respond: “Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?” Christ the King replies: “Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.”
At first, the difference is subtle. Upon closer inspection, however, it becomes very clear. Those on the left, the goats, argued in favor of their good works. In other words, “When did we not see you in need and not help you? We’ve been doing it all the time!” Jesus didn’t buy that pride and piety for a split-second.
Those on the right, the sheep, didn’t argue at all. In fact, they had no idea. Caring for the least of these, as Jesus described them, was so second nature to them that it shocked them that Jesus brought it up. You see, they lived by the grace of God, the love of God, the mercy of God, the forgiveness of God, the care of God for the least of God’s children. And what is that grace, love, mercy, forgiveness, and care if it is not shared? It’s a natural. You share it. It’s a way of life; it’s who you are.
That’s the rub, my friends. Some depend on their good works. Others depend only on the mercy of God. When you depend on the mercy of God, you know that you don’t deserve it. Therefore, you share it – even with the least of God’s children. I’ve seen more mercy of God in some Alcoholics Anonymous meetings than I’ve witnessed, at times, in entire Christian denominations!
I talked to a man not long ago who is about my age and going through something of a vocational crisis. “At one point,” he said, “I wanted to be a success in what I did.” I nodded my head while listening. He went on: “Well, I’m not a success by the world’s standards, and that’s okay with me. Now, I’m at a point where I just want to lead a life of significance; I’m just trying to figure out how.”
I thought about what he said. I’m still thinking about it. Is that it? Is it success? What about significance, is that what’s it’s all about?
Success and significance. I can almost hear the goats bleating: “Why, we led lives of sterling success for you, O Lord. Our lives were ones of significance; they made a significant difference in the lives of others, O Lord.”
But what of the sheep? The silence is so loud it’s deafening. You see, it’s not about the success; it’s not about the significance; it’s not about the achievements; it’s not about putting your name in granite on a thousand charitable institutions. It’s about the grace of God and the service to the least of these that such grace and mercy produces in people by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Bono, the lead singer for the U2 rock and roll band, is a Christian, and he was at one time the Time magazine Person of the Year. You might say he is leading a life of success and significance. But then there’s that song from the album Joshua Tree album that gives us pause. In fact, the title itself captures it all. “I still haven’t found what I’m looking for,” he sings.
The good word to Bono and to us all is this: Whatever you have done to the least of these my children, you have done it unto me. You don’t have to look around anymore. A happy and blessed Christ the King week and Thanksgiving to all of you!
Amen.
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