Christ the King
Mathew 25:31-46
November 23, 2008Where’s Jesus?
For the past couple of weeks Matthew’s Gospel has been giving us images of the coming kingdom of God. They have not been altogether comforting.
Two weeks ago we had the story of ten bridesmaids. Five are foolish and five are wise. The wise ones fill up their lamps before setting out at midnight to welcome the sudden arrival of the bridegroom. The foolish ones spend so much time fixing their hair and touching up their makeup, they forget to fill up their lamps. By the time they have rectified the situation, the door to the banquet hall has been shut and the bridegroom, who has mysteriously become Jesus himself, says he never heard of them.
If that doesn’t sound like heaven to you, I don’t blame you. It makes me want to stock up on flashlight batteries, even when it’s not hurricane season.
Last week we had an even more unnerving picture. Three slaves are given enormous amounts of money to invest for their master, who goes away on a long journey and returns asking to review the books. The first two do fairly well on the market, and are given even more to work with. The third buries his master’s million in the ground, figuring the housing bubble could burst at any time. He gets tossed into the outer darkness, where he no doubt bumps into the five foolish bridesmaids, wandering around in the dark.
It’s hard to locate Jesus in these kingdom parables. I hope to goodness he’s not that jerk of a bridegroom who wouldn’t even acknowledge that he knows the five foolish bridesmaids. And clearly he’s not the master in the second story, who is a harsh man, reaping where he did not sow and gathering where he did not scatter seed.
The element common to both stories seems to be the unexpected. The bridegroom arrives at midnight. The master shows up on the doorstep without calling ahead. After all that waiting, after all that time, all of sudden, there he is.
Get ready, the message seems to be. Stay ready. You never know when and where God’s kingdom will arrive, or where you will find Jesus in it.
Jesus is even more elusive in today’s parable, that unnerving story of the sheep and the goats. Perhaps "elusive" is the wrong word. More like "ubiquitous." He’s in more than one place at the same time.
First of all, Jesus the exalted Son of Man, come "in his glory with all the angels with him. " Elsewhere in Matthew’s Gospel the "Son of Man" is a lowly figure, a person who has no place to lay his head, the one who is despised and rejected. It is the Son of Man who is betrayed by his friends and arrested. It is the Son of Man who stands before Governor Pilate, wearing a crown of thorns. It is the Son of Man who is handed over to be crucified.
But here is the Son of Man as the risen Messiah, the commander of an army of angels. He sits on "the throne of his glory" with all the nations gathered before him for judgment.
Don’t look on the cross for the Son of Man, this story tells us. Don’t look in the tomb where dead bodies are kept. Look up on the dais where the presiding magistrate sits, ready to pass judgment on all of us.
Is this where we find Jesus? If so, we had better prepare our defense. We can point to our impressive record of social engagement, our numerous board memberships, and our generous contributions to worthy causes. Exhibit A: last year’s tax return. Exhibit B: A letter of recommendation from Leadership Tallahassee. Exhibit C: A perfect attendance certificate from the First Presbyterian Summer Camp. (On second thought, better shred the tax return.)
But to our utter amazement, the exalted Son of Man, the King and Judge upon the throne, takes no interest in the evidence we have to present. He says to some in the courtroom, "I was hungry and you gave me food, thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, sick and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me."
"I beg your pardon, Judge. This must be a case of mistaken identity. That wasn’t you at the Thanksgiving dinner last Thursday in the Westminster Room. That was somebody else. Couldn’t have been you. A lot of those folks are HIV positive. And certainly you wouldn’t be staying at the Shelter on Tennessee Street. That’s not the kind of place where judges hang out. When did we see you hungry or thirsty or sick or lonely or in prison?"
It’s at this point in the story that we discover Jesus present in another way. Not only is he the exalted Son of Man, the Judge of all the nations. Jesus is also the woman who had that second piece of pumpkin pie the other night, and complained because the whipped cream had run out. Jesus is the retired auto worker in Detroit who is worried about his pension. Jesus is the baby in the neo-natal intensive care unit, born too soon because his mother had no prenatal care.
Jesus, this parable makes abundantly clear, is present in "the least of these who are members of my family." He is the both judge on the throne and the neighbor in need.
Peter Storey, the former Bishop of the Methodist Church in South Africa, says, " . . . you cannot ask Jesus into your heart alone. He will ask, "Can I bring my friends?" You will look at his friends and they will consist of the poor and marginalized and oppressed, and you will hesitate. But Jesus is clear: "Only if I can bring my friends." ("Let God Be God!" in With God in the Crucible, Abingdon Press, p.154.)
Today is the Feast of Christ the King. It’s the last day of the church year, the day on which we strain our eyes to see beyond the present to the future God has promised. When that promised day comes, this story suggests, Jesus Christ will be on the judge’s seat above us, and he will be amongst those who can provide the evidence for or against us. But Jesus can be found in yet another place in the coming kingdom.
Jesus is also beside us. Remember, he has stood in the dock before. He knows what it’s like to be judged and he knows what it’s like to be punished. Christ is not only our judge. He is also our advocate.
Jesus knows what it’s like to look upon a sea of need. He has felt the urge to get away to a lonely place. He knows what it’s like for needy people to treat you only as means to get what they want. He knows what it’s like not to meet everybody’s expectations.
At the end of this parable some go away into eternal punishment and some into eternal life. That is the end of this particular story, but not the end of Jesus’ own story. You might remember that Jesus tells this story on the Mount of Olives, overlooking the city of Jerusalem. It’s the last story he tells before he goes into the city and becomes the one arrested, judged, condemned, and executed.
"Who is to condemn?" writes Paul to the Romans. "It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us." (Romans 8:34)
Christ is the judge. Christ is the least of these, and Christ is our advocate before the throne of grace. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords is also the one who knows us better than we know ourselves, and goes ahead of us, preparing the way.
We are finishing up a year in the Christian calendar, and we are embarking on a year that will no doubt test our commitment to the Christ whom we call King.
There is every indication that the coming year will bring an increase in hunger, homelessness, poverty and unemployment. This parable reminds us that those who will suffer the most are "the least of these," members of Christ’s family. You and I will be called upon to do more to feed, house, and care for these neighbors, and if we do it not to them, we do it not to Christ.
With that call will come the temptation to draw back, to do less because we, too, will be feeling the economic pinch. In short, we will be called to do more with less.
But the larger story of the gospel reminds us that Christ stands with us and for us, and his love will not let us go. The one who stands amongst the least of these is also the Head of his Church.
Where is Jesus? He is above us to judge. He is among us to serve. He is ahead of us to lead. With him we end the year and toward him we move into his future.
If you would like to receive these sermons by e-mail, send a note to brant@oldfirstchurch.org.