Sheep, Goats, and the King of Kings

Christ the King Sunday 2017

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24; Matthew 25:31-46

      

After reading the Gospel this morning, the big question on my mind is, am I a sheep or a goat? (And, not to give anything away, but, the answer is “yes.”)

If we believe that, mercy and grace aside, where we will end up at the end of time will be determined by some kind of heavenly sorting system, how does the system work?

These questions bring to mind a current TV show called “The Good Place”. The premise of the show is that when we die, there are one of two places we can end up. The Good Place is what you and I would call “heaven” – it is a utopian place of peace and joy. The Bad Place, as you can imagine, is what we would refer to as “hell” – with all the negative connotations that go along with our vision of that place of eternal suffering.

       In the world of the program, there is a point system, where all our deeds are assessed positive or negative points that, when tallied, determine whether a person ends up in The Good Place, or The Bad Place.

For instance, singing to a child will earn you +0.62 points, while holding the door open for another person will net +8,815.23 points. Ruining the opera with bad behavior is assessed a -90.90 points, while selling a sick camel without disclosing its illness penalizes you by -22.22 points.

      Inexplicably, rooting for the New York Yankees is assessed -99.15 points, while remaining loyal to the Cleveland Browns is worth +53.83 points; positive and negative points are added or subtracted from some total target point tally which will determine your placement in the afterlife.

      As Lutherans, we might find the whole premise quite humorous and even ludicrous, because our theology tells us that we are saved not by works but by God’s grace alone, and all those things? They sound like works. And Lutherans eschew any discussion of works.

But I wonder, isn’t such a point system often how we really think about good deeds versus bad? In secret, how many of us still worry about the “what if?” What if we got the whole grace thing wrong and God really does keep a tally? Have I done enough deeds of a worthy nature, that God will wipe out the negative impact of the bad I’ve done?

Believe it or not, today’s text is about way more than score-keeping or point counting. And yes, sometimes we are counted among the sheep and sometimes among the goats. So what then?

As Philip Yancy writes in his book Vanishing Grace, “The Bible tells us of flawed people – just like me – who make shockingly bad choices and yet still find themselves pursued by God.”

It is this endless pursuit of God that gives us hope. I was especially glad, on this final Sunday of the church year, to have heard that great text from Ezekiel that we read this morning, where we have this promise that God himself will search for his sheep and seek them out rescue them from all the places they’ve been scattered.

Because I know how deeply I am flawed, I am comforted to know that God’s pursuit follows me even into the dark places of all my failures; the times that by action or inaction I have strayed; the times I have been impatient, inattentive, and endlessly ungrateful.

I could be considered one of the scattered ones. I need an understanding and forgiving shepherd to watch after me, and set me straight, and keep me in the fold of safely shepherded sheep, safe even from my own folly. Lucky for me, in Jesus God has provided just what I need.

On this last Sunday of the church year we celebrate Christ the King. The image of Christ shifts in our readings from shepherd to king. And here, Jesus tells us just what kind of king he is.

He is a king who does not value and reward beauty or wealth or the exercise of greed. He isn’t concerned with wealth or riches or conventional, temporal power. And, as his “judgments” would indicate, those who trust in him and those he favors don’t value such things either.

Those who believe in this shepherd, look out for the sick, the poor, the powerless. They accompany the imprisoned and they clothe the naked and they visit those who are imprisoned wherever they are held, in the face of whatever binds them. Theirs is a ministry not simply of charity, but of accompaniment.

They dare to look into the eyes of their neighbor, and see the eyes of Christ staring back. They serve as Christ’s compassionate face for those who are the least, the last, the lost, the little and the lifeless.

Right after Jesus finishes this, his last parable in Matthew’s gospel, he tells his disciples, “You know that after two days the Passover is coming, and the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified.”

Jesus wants his disciples to remember that he goes to the cross for them. He goes to the cross for the life of the lifeless. Jesus goes to the cross not for his glory, though his glory will be revealed there. Rather, Jesus goes to the cross as the one who suffers with the suffering and redeems the dying.

That is what our king, Jesus, does. That is who our king, Christ the Lord, is.

As Jesus was the embodiment of God in the world, so now we (in the church from many nations) are the embodiment of Christ. We are both the ones who suffer and the ones who relieve suffering in Jesus' name. The reign of Christ is known through us who love and care for our neighbors until Christ comes again.

As the sheep and goats are surprised by the king’s admission that it was he himself who was either administered or refused their love and compassion in this life, it is also he who will carry their sins and grief upon the cross. It is he whose hands, feet, and side will be pierced. It is he whose body will be raised.

       Today, even as we prepare to enter into the season of Advent – a season that marks our waiting for the coming of the Messiah to be born as a babe in Bethlehem – we are reminded through the Scriptures that while the kingdom on earth is inaugurated with the birth of the Christ Child, it will not be complete until he comes again.

While heaven and earth meet in the nativity scene that we have re-imagined over and over again, they will not be fully merged until Jesus returns in all his glory, seated upon the throne and crowned the King of all creation.

It is this in-between time that Jesus is addressing. How will we respond?

       You see, what happens between now and then, matters. There is an urgency to our lives, because every day people suffer and die and we have the ability to serve them.

Every day God presents Godself in the face of the stranger, the neighbor, the lost, hungry, and lonely one.

       For the sheep, the ones who believe in Jesus, who follow Jesus, whose lives are defined by their love for and trust of Jesus, the work is as natural as breathing, because it is their nature not to worry about doing good works, but simply to do them.

That is why, in the end, they are astonished at the king’s words. They are surprised to hear that they saw, welcomed, fed, clothed and accompanied the king. They are simply doing like the good trees earlier in Matthew’s gospel, that produce good fruit, not worrying about what kind of fruit they are, but only doing what is in their nature to do. Good sheep don’t worry about points or tallies. Their lives, shaped by the great shepherd of the sheep, reflect his values and concerns.

       Here in the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus’ consistent message from his Sermon on the Mount through this Sermon of the Judgment, has been that what we do with our lives, and how we respond to the gifts, the talents, the time, and the love, grace and mercy of God not only matters, but reflects the face of God in the world. Jesus invites us to see who we might be leaving out of the reign of God’s love, compassion, and mercy. God’s ultimate judgment is a judgment we do not control, to be rendered by God, in God’s mercy, through the Son of Man God sent to save the world. How will you respond?

Please pray with me.

O Lord our God, King of the Universe, creator of all that is, was and ever will be, grant that our thoughts, words and actions might be reflective of your reign in our hearts. Instill within us the urgency of our service to the poor and the oppressed whom you so love, and to whom you send us, your broken-hearted people, to serve as your faithful ones. Help us to pay it forward, living our lives in full gratitude for the love, compassion, and holy mercy you bestow upon us. As you reign over our lives, heal our world and bring us your peace, O Christ our King. Amen.

Beggars Made Worthy

October 15, 2017

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Matthew 22:1-14

Sermon Series, “Barriers to Generosity” – Entitlement

          I have a keen interest in the British royalty. I love to read both history in general and historical fiction of England. I’m fascinated with the lives royals lead, and with the ritual and tradition that surround them.  Last year, for instance, the two television programs I most enjoyed binge watching were “Victoria” – based on the life of Queen Victoria I, and “The Crown,” based on Elizabeth II, the reigning Queen of England.

          As a result, I find royal weddings kind of exciting. The first royal wedding I very clearly remember was that of Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer. I recall the excitement of the crowds, straining to get a look at Lady Diana in her royal carriage on the way to St. Paul’s Cathedral; the pageantry; her charming stumble over the order of her husband-to-be’s multiple names. What fun to be invited to such a spectacle and party!

          So, I have to tell you that if I received an invitation to a royal wedding, I would feel enormously honored and grateful to be among those to be included. There is no way I can expect to ever receive such an invitation. Therefore, if I indeed received one, not only would it come as a great surprise but I would do everything in my power to come, prepared to show not only my gratitude and joy, but my utter respect and desire to please and honor the queen or king issuing the invitation.

          So, what’s wrong with the people who were the first to receive the invitation to the king’s son’s wedding in today’s gospel text? The king must have been so pleased to issue the invitation. With great pride and with over-the-top generosity, surely, he looked forward to having the grateful recipients of the invitation come to honor both him and his son by their presence. What a party he was prepared to throw!

What’s wrong with these people who surprisingly declined the invitation? Who simply would not come? Who had better things to do with their time – more important things demanding their time and attention?

          Not only did they decline the initial invitation, but they made light of it – they behaved as if they were entitled to the invitation, and could simply choose to attend only if it were convenient enough for them to do so – only if they had nothing better to do. They behaved as if this invitation and the honor it conveyed was all about them and had nothing to do with the honor, fealty and praise that was the king’s due.

          Now, we all know that rulers can be incredibly thin-skinned. When thwarted they can behave like children having a full-blown and devastating temper tantrum, with devastating and deadly results. After all, kings expect the ultimate respect, honor, and worship of their subjects.

So, when we read what seems to be the over-the-top reaction of the king to the insult that has been dealt him when even a second invitation he issued was rejected, we are shocked.

But the people hearing this parable for the first time would have gotten it. They would have understood the disconnect - the deep disloyalty of these invitees, who have repaid the king’s generous invitation with disregard and insult; they would have understood the tragic ramifications of their rejection.

          But, as the parable goes on, it is not just the outright rejection of those on the king’s first invitation list that is brought under scrutiny. Another group of people is invited.

These are the ones who probably think the likelihood of them ever receiving an invitation from the king is about the same as my ever being invited to the next royal wedding. Null. So, when they do receive an invitation, they are excited. They don’t even care that they weren’t in the first group, they never expected to be. Instead, they are grateful to be thought of at all.

Anyone accepting this invitation would want to put their best foot forward, to be seen as grateful for the generosity of the king, and worthy by the king’s grace to be in the mere presence of the king and his son, let alone to be their honored guests.

          So it is surprising – shocking, even, when this one person behaves in a manner that shows his hosts less than the honor and praise they deserve. He seems to think that all he needs to do is just show up.

While those attending this wedding would be given the appropriate wedding dress provided by the king himself, this person eschews even that tradition. It just doesn’t suit him. He’s happy to come to the party, but seems to take the rest for granted.     

The problem with the first group who were invited and with this single invitee seems to be the same. They lack the proper attitude toward their gracious host and king. They lack the respect to accept the generosity of the king as pure gift and not simply as their due. They forget to respond with the proper sense of gratitude and awe for being included in the party at all.

Their basic sense of entitlement gets in the way of any gratitude at all.

          Each week, we are invited to the greatest feast imaginable. This is the feast, Martin Luther wrote, of the marriage - the union between heaven and earth. We come together in worship as undeserving guests, to praise God and offer our thanksgiving for this marriage, the incarnation of God’s own Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. We are invited to the banquet to celebrate God’s love and generosity and our inclusion in the marriage feast.   

On our own, we are not worthy to be here, but by God’s good grace we are among both the good and the bad, saint and sinner both, who have received the invitation. We don’t deserve this honor, in fact there is nothing we could do to be so deserving. We come not because we are great but because God is great and steadfast in love, mercy, and generosity.

The problem with entitlement is, that whenever we allow ourselves to believe that we deserve what we have, or are somehow more worthy than another, we will find ourselves incapable of gratitude. The proper response to the king’s invitation is to run breathless to the banquet, dressed for the marriage of heaven and earth, wondering how we ever got on such a guest list.

When we come to church, we answer God’s gracious invitation to unite around the table. While we find community here, we don’t come for community. While we find lovely music and pleasing surroundings and friendships here, we don’t come for those things.

We find forgiveness of our sins here, but we should not forget that we come as beggars in need of God’s mercy, neither entitled to it nor deserving of it. But, because God loves us so, we come to be surprised, humbled and grateful to be among those Christ serve at the table of life. Such gratitude requires us to sing out for joy, and cry out in thanksgiving and praise of God.

In the traditional eucharistic liturgy still in use in some places is this confession: “I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, and I shall be healed.” We would do well to use these words in our liturgy as well, and to embrace the truth within them.

Our birthright as followers of Jesus Christ is to remember that none of us is worthy – none of us deserves to be here; therefore, we should respond to this invitation with nothing short of humble gratitude and thanksgiving.

Like the guests invited to the wedding feast in our gospel story, we too are provided a garment appropriate for the celebration.

The garment we are provided is the righteousness that comes from God.

This garment, in which we become clothed in baptism, sets us apart as the glad recipients of God’s grace. It is the outward expression of the inward change God performs in us in the sacrament through which God calls us Child of God.

It is no ordinary garment, even by the finest of standards. For this garment is comprised of threads of compassion, generosity, kindness, and forgiveness. The fabric of this garment is knit with concern for social justice, care for the poor and the marginalized. The golden thread that holds together the seams of this garment was spun from the blood of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and it compels us, to welcome other to the feast.

It compels us to be not only guests, but servants. It reminds us that in the eyes of God, whether we came from the stock of the good or the bad, we are forever transformed by God’s grace, united with Jesus Christ and with one another at the table.

Worthy? No, except by the love and mercy of God, which knows no bounds. Deserving to be here? No, but our inclusion compels us not only to come to the party, but to come prepared to give honor and glory to the host with thanksgiving, joy, respect and love. May it be so.

The Sign of a Child

Isaiah 7:10-16 ~ Advent IV ~ December 22, 2013

          “Therefore the LORD himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.” Where have we heard these words before? Ah! They were in both our First Lesson, from the Old Testament, and in the Gospel message, from the New Testament this morning. Written by Isaiah hundreds of years before the birth of Jesus, they were then repeated by Matthew in his gospel.

As we look forward to the coming of Christmas in just a couple of days, we are ready to follow them all the way to Bethlehem, aren’t we? Yet these words had meaning in Isaiah’s time as well as Matthew’s. They have something to say to us today, too, as we await the coming of this child, Immanuel, “God is with us”, because God’s word is a living word which transcends time and place. It points us to signs God sends, even when we do not ask for them, because God’s love and salvation transend the history of mankind. They come to us when we least expect them, when we least deserve them, and when we most need them.

          The original message within these words applied to the events in Isaiah’s own time. Yet when Matthew was writing the words of his gospel, he saw how the events that transpired around the birth of Jesus also served as a fulfillment of prophecy of old, because that is how God works – persistently and freely providing signs of the love that surpass our greatest expectations.

          In the text from Isaiah this morning, Ahaz, the king of Judah, is in a quandary. As king he knows he must make decisions to protect the health and safety of his people but as a king anointed by God he knows he must follow the law God decreed which forbids the making of alliances with foreign powers. For God knows well the dangers for God’s people when foreign powers enter in, with their foreign ways and foreign gods.

          This story takes place during the Syro-Ephraimite War. The kings of Ephraim and Syria have formed a coalition; they want control of the region of Judah to support their rebellion and battle against Assyria. King Ahaz receives word that they plan to conquer Jerusalem and replace him with a puppet king, to do their bidding in their fight against Assyria. Fear seizes Ahaz and his people.

In the verses just before these, the LORD sent Isaiah to speak to Ahaz, and reassure him of the LORD’s favor, encourage his faith that God will deliver God’s people out of danger, and tell him to trust in God’s word - that Ephraim and Syria will flounder and fail. But God’s word of reassurance falls on deaf ears. Fear trumps faith.

Ahaz can’t wait, can’t believe, can’t trust. Instead, Ahaz hatches a plan of his own to enlist the assistance of the king of Assyria to help fight off the coalition forces. But this plan would be like making a pact with the devil. So the LORD continues to speak to Ahaz through Isaiah, and reassure him that God will keep God’s word and will save God’s people. And as God has done before, at Sinai and in Egypt, in the Wilderness and even at creation, God will send a sign. So Isaiah instructs Ahaz, “Ask a sign of the LORD your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven.”  You name it. Ask of God a sign. Can you imagine it? What kind of sign might you ask of the LORD if you were invited to name a sign of God? God is inviting Ahaz to name whatever sign he needs to believe that God will continue to provide security and safety for these people – to reassure him that they will prevail and that these forces that are even now on their way to dismantle his kingdom will themselves fall.

On the surface, Ahaz’s reply might seem to be righteous – after all, we are not to put the LORD God to the test, right? Yet here God is imploring Ahaz, “tell me the sign that you require – let me show you a sign that my word is true.” And Ahaz’s response? Ahaz tells God, “NO!”

Ahaz refuses God’s invitation and then hides behind a show of righteousness. “I will not put the LORD to the test.” We have to ask, what’s going on here? If Ahaz, king of Judah cannot trust in the word of Adonai, the LORD God Almighty, what god does Ahaz believe in? What god does he trust?

Ahaz has a plan and maybe he doesn’t want to believe, because that would require him to change his course. And he doesn’t want to. Perhaps Ahaz has become like us, we who have given up looking for any sign beyond those we can make ourselves. Perhaps Ahaz is more able to trust the power he can see than to trust in the power of the one he cannot see. For Ahaz it seems easier to sell himself to Assyria than to wait for salvation from God.

“Hear then, O house of David! Is it too little for you to weary mortals, that you weary my God also?” As I read these words, it makes me wonder: why does God persist? Why does God continue to pursue the recalcitrant people? But God does continue to love and reach out to the faithless ones. Isaiah then states, “Therefore the LORD himself will give you a sign.”

God lays out a timeline of sorts. In the time it will take a young woman’s pregnancy to ripen and for the child to be born, and weaned, and begin to know right from wrong - those two kings – the ones who instill such fear in you that you would turn to your own devices rather than trust in the deliverance of the LORD your God – they will have fallen, they will be no more than smoldering stumps. It began with the sign of a child, and it came to pass that within three years, the kings of Ephraim and Syria indeed, had fallen.

Life is full of tensions. A king must seek the welfare of his people. We must look after our own welfare and that of our loved ones. A king must make political judgments that lead to health and life and security. We must look after our financial and future security, and the protection of our family and our property. The king has responsibility to learn and keep God’s law, as passed down from Deuteronomy. To be faithful, we must read the scriptures and study and learn the word of God. We’re not so very different from Ahaz, are we?

In the age of God’s covenant with the people of Israel, God promised the house of David an eternal dynasty as long as his descendants remained faithful to God’s covenant and teaching. In this age, inaugurated by the birth of a babe in Bethlehem, God gave to us a new covenant, through the promise of a child. This child, Jesus the Christ, would be God’s continued sign of love and faithfulness, because in Jesus, God is with us and will continue to be with us eternally. God is with us so that we might believe. God is with us so that we might live. God is with us, because sometimes, it is hard to believe, and God knows it and will accompany us as we face the tensions of each day.

The proclamation of the birth of Christ reveals the persistence of our God who knows how we struggle with faith and will give any sign, any grace, to help us believe and live. God gives even when we will not ask. Even when we decide that we can go it on our own, that we are far better at solving our own problems than we are at waiting for God to act, God gives us signs of God’s love and mercy. God gives even when we are afraid that the threats around us are too great to bear. God gives even when our fear trumps our faith. The sign of a child for us reveals God’s own vulnerability to the pain and distress of mortal life, and demonstrates God’s willingness to bear that suffering with us and for us.

The sign of a child who grew and lived among us, and lives with us still, a child born under surprising conditions, is a sign from God that we didn’t ask for. The child Jesus, born to a virgin, is a sign to us; the sign of Immanuel, God with us is the everlasting sign of God’s salvation for us; the sign of a child, God with us, is the sign of God’s power to save; Immanuel, God with us, brings new life so that we too might live eternally in the new covenant with God. The sign of a child, God with us, is a sign of security for every promise of God even when faith fails.

God’s signs take on many shapes. The sign of God with us may come in the form of a simple word of encouragement or a sudden revelation when things seem to be going horribly wrong in our lives. The sign of God with us may take the shape of assistance that comes when we least expect it and most need it. The sign of God with us may take the shape of a rainbow in the sky or new life bursting forth in the desert or a word of hope dropped into the maelstrom of our confusion and despair.

For the poor, the sign of God with us may come in the form of those who are inspired to lend a helping hand, or to provide a holiday meal, or to extend the love of Christ through the giving of gifts to perfect strangers to brighten their days. For the lonely, the sign of God with us might be something as simple as receiving a greeting card, a phone call, or a caring visit. Signs of God with us abound in our world, and sometimes, God’s sign is born out through the loving witness of people like you and me in our daily walk of faith.

In the cradle, we see the sign of a child, Immanuel, God’s word that comes to us as a living word that transcends time and place. In the cradle, we see the sign of a child, Immanuel, God’s living word that points us to faith, even when we do not ask, because God’s love and salvation persistently come to us when we least expect them, when we least deserve them, and when we most need them. Thanks be to God!

Amen.