Christ the King Sermon (Nov 26)

Given at the 8 AM service.
Open my eyes that they may see the deepest needs of people;
Move my hands that they may feed the hungry;
Touch my heart that it may bring warmth to the despairing;
Teach me the generosity that welcomes strangers;
Let me share my possessions to clothe the naked;
Give me the care that strengthens the sick;
Make me share in the quest to set the prisoner free.
In sharing our anxieties and our love,
our poverty and our prosperity,
we partake of your divine presence, O Lord. Amen.
(Canaan Banana, Zimbabwe)

That prayer came from Zimbabwe, and it is good for us to remember in prayer those throughout our world who are enduing great suffering like in the Egyptian bombing at a sufi mosque there, and those who are waking up to a new dawn full of hope and freedom like in Zimbabwe.

One of Norah’s books we read to her at night says something like this: “The geese and the donkey, the sheep and the goats, were making funny noises down in their throats.” On the farm, they are all together.

But in today’s Gospel parable – Jesus tells us about a King who separates people, as if he were separating sheep from goats, it is a stunning parable if we sit with it…

This concluding parable of Matthew 25, the final teaching of Jesus in the Gospel, shows Christ as a king separating the people of the nations but neither the sheep or goats thought they were either serving or rejecting their heavenly king. What both the sheep and the goats failed to see were the vulnerable people who were starving or naked or in prison. “This teaching has inspired a spirituality of “seeing” Jesus in vulnerable people, the rejects of society, & what is at stake is seeing the people, seeing their need, and showing one has seen them by serving them.” (Abbott Andrew)

But as we sit with this parable, we also have sit with the ending; the separation, the judgement…

“Edifying as this teaching of serving Christ through serving vulnerable people is, the grim sending away of the “goats” at the end of the parable, those who failed to serve the vulnerable is disturbing. One way to understand this grim ending is to suggest that if our hearts shrink to the vanishing point so that we become permanently blind to the plight of vulnerable people, we end up in our own darkness. This is a salutary warning. But perhaps these “goats,” need to be served too...” (Abbott Andrew)

Indeed, we are not Jesus. We are his disciples and he calls us to love and care for those in need, the sheep and the goats, the vulnerable, the lost, even the hard hearted…But what does this look like?

Protestant author, professor & therapist Richard Beck searched for an answer until he came across the teaching of the “Little Way” in the writings of St. Thérèse of Lisieux. “Beck says that this “little way” seems simple until one tries it. The “little way” begins with noticing. Thérèse says that she noticed that some sisters in her Carmelite convent were saintly and popular and other sisters were difficult and ignored as much as possible: a separation of sheep and goats. Thérèse then had to move beyond her comfort zone and seek out the neglected, difficult sisters.” (Abbott Andrew)

I have noticed (and this is very natural) that the most saintly Sisters are the most loved. We seek their company; we render them services without their asking; finally, these souls so capable of bearing the lack of respect and consideration of others see themselves surrounded with everyone's affection... 

On the other hand, imperfect souls are not sought out. No doubt we remain within the limits of religious politeness in their regard, but we generally avoid them, fearing lest we say something which isn't too amiable. When I speak of imperfect souls, I don't want to speak of spiritual imperfections since most holy souls will be perfect in heaven; but I want to speak of a lack of judgment, good manners, touchiness in certain characters; all these things which don't make life agreeable. I know very well that these moral infirmities are chronic, that there is no hope of a cure, but I also know that my Mother would not cease to take care of me, to try to console me, if I remained sick all my life. This is the conclusion I draw from this: I must seek out in recreation, on free days, the company of Sisters who are the least agreeable to me in order to carry out with regard to these wounded souls the office of the Good Samaritan. A word, an amiable smile, often suffice to make a sad soul bloom...I want to be friendly with everybody (and especially with the least amiable Sisters) to give joy to Jesus. (St, Therese of Liseuix)

Beck ends by saying “I must seek out. That's the practice of the “Little Way.” Seeking out, approaching and moving toward people you might not have normally approached, for whatever reason. All with the goal of extending a small act of welcome and hospitality, a kind word or a smile.”

Such kindness, hospitality, love is what we can offer to everyone, but how far do we go?

You're scrolling through the news or thumbing through the paper and you come across a story about a kid who overdosed or was bullied to the point of such despair that the kid took his or her own life. You might shrug for a second, shake your head, sigh that this is just another case of [name your reason]." Or, you might not even notice the story at all as you move on to the business section or the sports page.


But if that kid lived in your state or city or town, you'd notice. Hey, this kind of thing just doesn't happen here! You'd demand accountability; you'd want to know what's being done to help kids like this.


Now if the kid went to the same school as your son or daughter, you'd immediately join other parents in asking some hard questions of school and law enforcement officials. If the kid lived next door to you, you'd be right there for that family. It would be as if your child had died. And if it was your own son or daughter . . . That fact is: It is our own kid. Every kid is our kid.

Harvard Professor of Public Policy Dr. Robert Putnam, author of Our Kids: The American Dream in Crisis, writes: "Our sense of 'we' has shriveled. Now when people talk about 'our kids,' they talk about their own biological kids; they don't talk about all kids. This leads to a situation that's bad for the economy & bad for democracy. But it's just not right. We have an obligation to care for other people's kids too."

Which is Jesus' point in today's Gospel parable: Every kid is our kid. We are our brother’s keeper, sheep or goat. Every person in trouble is our responsibility. Every injustice endured by another is our responsibility. Because every kid, every person in trouble, every innocent is Jesus to us. To be a disciple of Christ is to possess the vision & heart of God that enables us to see the goodness and image of God in every human being, we are all on this beautiful planet together. Our care for the poor, our work to alleviate despair and injustice in our communities, our holding ourselves accountable for creating more opportunities for the under-educated and under-employed is our first and most meaningful response to our baptismal call to proclaim the coming of God's Kingdom in Jesus Christ.

May we practice the Little Way with all, the agreeable and not so agreeable, with every kid, with every sheep and goat before us, so Jesus may say to us, “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.” Amen.