"You Did it to Me"
Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24; Matthew 25:31-46
Rev. Laura J. Collins
November 24, 2002
When I moved into a dormatory at the beginning of my freshman year of college, I was ready to meet the big, wide world and whatever it might bring me. College is such a great time to find out just how many different kinds of people there are in the world. Take, for instance, Jocelyn. Jocelyn lived next door to me and she was astounded to discover that the rest of the world did not floss after every meal and snack. It really sent her for a loop. She would lecture us day in and day out on good dental hygiene as she flossed her teeth again and again and again.
Now, it would never occur to me not to brush my teeth regularly, but I will confess that I have gone weeks without flossing. It's just not one of my habits. And, as we all know, bad habits are hard to break. Good habits are hard to start.
More seriously, last week I sat with the confirmation class in a narcotics anonymous meeting. It has been a while since I've been to a 12-step meeting, though I used to attend regularly when I lived with ex-offenders. The habits that lead to addiction are a bit more severe than the consequences of not flossing. And I'm not referring simply to the drinking or drugging or sexing that 12-step programs address, but to the habits of thought that often underlie addiction. It is these habitual ways of responding to the world that are so difficult to change.
Now, other than flossing, I'm not going to go into some of my personal bad habits. That's a bit more self-disclosure than you need. Suffice it to say that most of them are considerably more critical than the need to floss. Your own habitual problems may come to your mind. Or maybe not. One of the dangerous things about negative habitual thoughts is that they seem so normal to us that we don't know how harmful they are. They are, mostly, unconscious.
It is this unconsciousness that strikes me most clearly in Jesus' parable of the sheep and the goats. The image of separating sheep from goats seems so clear-cut. A shepherd would not mistake a sheep for a goat. Especially since Middle Eastern sheep were usually white and Middle Eastern goats were usually black. A good case of black and white distinctions. No gray area.
Interestingly, however, the sheep and the goats in the parable have no idea which they are. The goats are surprised to discover that they have lacked kindness and generosity of heart. How could they possibly have failed to recognize Jesus? Similarly, the sheep are surprised to discover that they did serve Christ when they went about their habitual acts of caring and love.
This parable of the last judgement is both comforting and disturbing to me. It is comforting in that the distinctions made are those of love -- loving God and loving one's neighbor as oneself, as Jesus had told us was the summary of all of God's law. It is not about orthodoxy -- having the right set of beliefs. In fact, there is not even a need to do these kind acts "in Jesus' name." Anyone could do them. And God knows. God sees. God is perfectly capable of recognizing what is important. Have we lived lives of compassion or not? God knows.
What is disturbing to me is that it seems too clear. Too black and white. Too final. Too much like salvation based on works, rather than on God's grace. Either we got it right or we didn't. And, unfortunately, I am all too aware of the many, many times that I have not gotten it right. Not to mention the times of which I am not aware!
Is someone keeping track? Is there a scorecard in the sky, kind of like Santa's big list? We spend years in the church and our own devotional life trying to rid ourselves of this kind of simplistic image -- God as scorekeeper. But it still crops up in us, doesn't it? When something goes wrong we wonder, what did I do to deserve this? As if life is a clear case of cause and effect -- blessing and curse. If we never get beyond this image of God, we fail to grow in our own faith journey, because we become confounded by the seemingly arbitrary nature of life. Is it God being punishing? Does God cause every bad thing to happen and if so, why?
To grow into the more ambiguous, but ultimately more helpful and life-giving understanding that God is not keeping score and doling out the rewards and punishments in the form of prosperity or disease, for example, takes a willingness to leap into a faith that finds God at work in everything, but without the need to control every outcome. A God brave enough to allow us to find our own way.
Then we read this parable. And it seems, at first glance, like we're back into black and white, reward and punishment, cause and effect. Do good, get good. Fail, lose.
So let's take a deep breath and hear this again: "... whenever you did it to the least of these members of my family, you did it to me. ... Just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me."
Here, Christ reminds us of a truth that is simple, but not simplistic. God is present in every aspect of creation, in every human being born into this life. We either acknowledge this at a deep level or we do not. And whatever those deep habitual thoughts of our heart have become, our lives become reflections of these thoughts.
This is not a case of counting how many times one gave to the beggar on the corner, versus how many times one failed to send a card to a sick neighbor. Enough checks on the right side, you're in. Too many checks on the left side, you're out.
No, this is a case of God acknowledging what God can see in the depths of our soul. Either we have become people accustomed to offering kindness and generosity or people schooled in self-serving and skepticism.
Perhaps we waffle between these two poles numerous times in any day, even in any hour. But there is a direction in which we lean. There is an intention of our souls, a motivation of our characters. Either we generally face toward the light or away from it. This is not about our lapses, but about our stance. Not about the times we've failed to live by our own best intentions, but about whether our heart is open or closed.
There are plenty of cliches out there about having an attitude of gratitude. This being Thanksgiving week, I expect that you'll hear some of them. The thing is, they're right. Having an underlying habit of gratitude is one of the best indicators of generosity and kindness. People who feel bitter or helpless or cheated or suspicious have a hard to being gracious to others. People who live with the sense of being blessed often provide hospitality without even recognizing it. People aware of blessing can put hardship into perspective and that enables a level of compassion that shows up in how they live.
One way I try to keep perspective on my own life is by keeping my eyes open to the lives of people around me. For instance, more than 35,000 children in the District of Columbia live in poverty. That's more than 30% of DC's children. More than 20% of the entire population of the capitol of the most powerful nation in the world lives in poverty. In the vast majority of the rest of the world, our levels of wealth are unfathomable. I will never forget being in Cairo, Egypt and seeing the thousands of people who not only make their livings from the trash heaps of that city, but actually make their homes there -- living on and surviving off what other people have tossed aside.
Today we are highlighting Bread for the World -- a Christian organization which lobbies congress for domestic and international policies that reduce hunger. Today is also the day that our church team is serving a meal at Loaves and Fishes -- a soup kitchen in the district. In one way we provide for immediate needs and in another way we look at long-term policy-based solutions to hunger. Yesterday, with the Mary Hynes Fun Run, many of us supported help for neglected and abused children. Each of the missions our congregation supports -- from Silver Spring Interfaith Housing Coalition to Casa de Maryland to refugee help in Sierra Leone -- are examples of compassionate outreach, seeking ways to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger. Even our new elevator is a way to welcome more people, to provide for more needs.
Jesus said, "You did it to me." And so the question becomes, did we take care of Jesus today? Did we notice him? Did we smile at her? Did we share our money? Did we offer our time? Did we pick up the phone and remember someone? Did we care?
Living compassionately can become a habit. Giving generously can become a habit. Offering hospitality can become a habit. Giving thanks can become a habit.
It would never occur to me not to brush my teeth. My goal is that these other habits will come as naturally as that, so that I might say in surprise some day, "When did I see you naked or hungry or thirsty and care you for, Lord?" And Christ will answer me, "Whenever you did it to the least of these, you did it to me."
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