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Text:
Matthew 25:31-46 W 28th
Sunday after Pentecost “Lord, When Did We See You …?” In the name of him who is coming
soon to judge the living and the dead, dear friends in Christ. Well here we are: we’ve come to the end of another church
year. Let this be proof positive to
those who say I never get around to finishing anything I start that they’re
wrong. The truth is, of course, that I
manage to finish at least one sermon every week. I really do; it only seems like they go on
forever. But sooner or later (okay,
usually later) we reach the final “Amen”. And that’s what this Sunday is all
about: The Final Amen. It reminds us that we are steadily and
inexorably drawing by the minute to that Day appointed by the Lord when this
world and everything in it will come to an end.
The date has been set. We just
don’t know when it will be; but as sure as God’s Word is true, one day we will reach it. And after that nothing will ever be the same
again. It may interest you to know that the
hymn Joy to the World, which we usually think of as a Christmas carol,
was actually written with this Sunday in mind.
That’s why it lacks the standard references to And certainly we see this theme
reflected in today’s readings. In the
Old Testament lesson we hear how the Lord promises to send his new David to his
people to be a shepherd to them. He’s not
going to be like their earthly shepherds who fell down on the job. He’s coming instead to gather those who have
been scattered, and to judge between the weak sheep and the strong ones who
have been oppressing their less sturdy fellows by butting them away from the
food trough with their horns and muddying their water supply with their feet. He’s coming to set things right. And we understand that this new David that
the Lord promises is, like his illustrious ancestor, a King. Again in today’s Gospel reading, Jesus calls
himself the King, a King who is coming in glory – once again to gather together
all people before him; and to divide them like a shepherd, the sheep from the
goats. And we are looking forward to
that day when all things are fulfilled, when Christ our King comes in his glory
and we see him in the flesh. We’re
looking forward to it because we know it will be the end of all oppression,
sin, and sadness. After that day we will
have nothing but good to look forward to. But interestingly enough, though the Gospel
text is about the end, in it Jesus says very little about what will be
afterward. He doesn’t talk at all about
the glories and wonders to come. Instead
he looks back at what was: not his reign of glory in the great beyond; but his
reign right here and now, his present reign as the King of the Church, his
reign that is as yet hidden under the cross. And that’s something we can really appreciate
about our Lutheran theology: we understand that Christ is reigning now in his Church. Our protestant and evangelical friends see
things quite a bit differently. In their
minds, Jesus is seated in glory at God’s right hand far, far removed from all the
goings on here below. He is an
essentially absent King. And so in order
to deal with biblical texts that speak of Christ’s reign on earth before the
time of the end they are forced to come up with weird millennial theories about
an imagined future reign of Christ on this still fallen earth. For them it’s sort of heavenly half way
house: better than the present age because Christ will be ruling from his
equivalent of the oval office in Against this sort of thinking and strained
theology we insist with the Scriptures that no, the reign of Christ is
happening now, right here among us. Here
his voice is heard in the Word as it is being read. Here Jesus speaks in the Words of absolution
and all throughout the liturgy. And here
too he is seen sacramentally. Christ the
King who is heard in the Word makes himself felt in the water of Baptism. He makes himself seen, touched, tasted, and
smelled in the Sacrament of the Altar.
In these ways he’s saying to us, “I’m not way up in the sky sitting on my
hands just waiting for my chance to come back.
I’m here now. Yes, my presence is
hidden in humility; but I am here now to serve you, and to apply to you the
blessings of my lifting up on the cross as the sacrifice of atonement for the
sins of the world.” And like I said
before, we are especially blessed to see the Lord Jesus in these places and
ways because it’s a fairly unique though thoroughly biblical perspective. Where we’re less likely to see Jesus,
however, is in another place he said he would be. It’s a place that we don’t usually care to
look. I mentioned earlier that we are
awaiting Christ’s coming in the flesh; but in today’s Gospel he’s telling us, “I’m
already here in the walking, talking, warm-blooded, living flesh. And you can see me if you care to, if only
you will open your eyes.” This is what Jesus says to the righteous, to the
sheep gathered at his right hand: “I was hungry, I
was thirsty, I was a stranger, I was without
clothing,” and so on, “and you tended to me in my needs.” And hearing this, the righteous are
dumbfounded. They ask, “Lord, when did
we see you in any of those ways? Jesus
answers them, “When you did [these things] for the least of these by brothers,
you did them for me.” Now that is just
profound: Jesus, the King of all Creation and Lord of glory, locates himself now
specifically in human weakness, suffering, and need. That’s where we can see him. You know, the Scripture speaks of those who
have entertained angels unaware. Here we
discover that it’s not just angels that we’re dealing with; but the Lord
himself. To be precise, where there is
someone who is without the basic necessities of life, where there is
loneliness, alienation, despair, injustice, or misery of any description, there
is Jesus in the middle of it. And that
really shouldn’t be a surprise to us, for it is he who bears all our sorrows
and pains. He isn’t up there in the sky
untouched by the world’s misery; he’s right here in the thick of it. He himself is bearing it, though it’s worth
noting that he identifies himself particularly in the suffering of the
faithful. He says that he is seen in “the
least of these my brothers.” And it’s
only natural that Christ suffers in and with those who trust in him for they
are members of his own body. And when a
member of the body hurts, the whole body suffers. As a matter of biological fact it’s
specifically in the head that the pain is registered. And Christ is the head of all who are one
body in him. Interestingly enough, since Jesus is seen
specifically in the afflictions and needs of his people, it’s also safe to say
that he is seen again when one of the faithful responds and brings a remedy to
the problem. That is to say, when one
member of the body of Christ is motivated by love to serve another, they both
see the Lord: one in the suffering of the other, and one in the act of mercy
that alleviates that suffering. Then
it’s like the hands of the Body of Christ washing and treating a wound on the
foot, or wiping something out of the eye. It’s Christ our Lord taking care of his own by
his own. This really should change the way we look at
people and their needs – particularly our fellow Christians. Instead of thinking, “Oh no, not more
problems to deal with! I’m sick to death
of having to help out all the time”, it should be, “Oh look, another
opportunity to serve Jesus.” I mean,
think about it: if you saw Jesus in
desperate need and you knew it was him, wouldn’t you want to do something about
it? Jesus says that is the case: “You are looking at me and I’m telling you in
no uncertain terms who I am. You can’t
pretend you don’t recognize me.” And though I said we want to apply this
particularly to the faithful, we have to careful. You and I can’t see someone else’s faith, nor
do we know who might be made open to hearing the Gospel precisely through an
act of kindness or mercy on our part. So
if we’re going to make a mistake, let’s err on the side of love. Christ gave his life also even for those who
will ultimately reject him and be lost forever.
And since we don’t know, let’s not make ourselves the judge. Let’s gladly attend the needs of all who are genuinely
afflicted. And let’s consider all their needs. It’s
possible that we might think of this aid we’re to render merely in physical terms. That won’t do. Human beings were created as a union of body
and spirit. And we have needs of both body
and soul. In fact, if we were to
prioritize, the spiritual concerns are unquestionably the most pressing since
they are the ones upon which a person’s eternal destiny depends; but both are
important. We can’t afford to neglect
either one. But with respect to spiritual needs, the
things Jesus speaks of are precisely what it is that the Church does for those
who belong to her. To those who hunger
and thirst for righteousness, the Church satisfies them with the righteousness
of Christ. To those who were strangers
from God and aliens, those who were far away, they are brought near and made
the people of God – they are made his own sons and daughters, part of his royal
family, and heirs of his salvation. To
those who are spiritually naked and ashamed of their exposed sins, the Church
clothes them with Christ in Baptism, and unites them with Jesus in his death,
burial, and resurrection, and then raises them up in new life wrapped in his
perfection. And to those who are sick
with sin or imprisoned by guilt and legalism, they are visited, comforted,
healed, and set free by his word of forgiveness. The Church is not a country club for those
who are rich and well in spiritual matters; it’s a hospital for the sick and a
rescue agency for the destitute. And
when we share the Gospel of Jesus Christ and bring others who are needy here to
his Church, and when we support the work of the Church, we are very much a part
of feeding the starving, clothing the naked, and tending the needs of the sick
and imprisoned. And again I hasten to add that with respect
to physical and spiritual needs it’s not one or the other, but both. We need to deal with the whole person, for in
so doing we are dealing with the whole Christ who is body and Spirit in and
with that person. We need to train
ourselves to see him that way: reigning
now as King in this fallen world in humility and suffering – just as he did
from the cross. Instead of turning away
from the suffering of those around us when we see it, we need to train
ourselves to ask, “Don’t you know who that is?
That’s Jesus. That’s my
King. How can I serve him?” May our gracious Father in heaven open our
eyes to see Jesus our King and his reign over us now in humility, and may he motivate
us by his Spirit to gladly serve him even as he served us, seeking his
forgiveness and his assurance when we fail, so that trusting in his mercy and
fulfilling his will when the last day comes we too we may stand with those at
his right hand and hear his gracious invitation, “Come, you who are blessed by
my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the
world. In Jesus’ name. Amen. Soli Deo Gloria! |