When the Going Gets Tough...

 

Mark 1:14-20

Epiphany 3 / Year B

“After John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God.”

Somewhere around the turn of the last century a football coach is said to have told his team, “When the going gets tough… the tough get going.”  The first printed reference of this quote appeared in the Corpus Christi Times in 1953, again referencing a speech by a local football coach.  Since then, any number of people in any number of fields, from business leaders to motivational speakers to clergy like me, has drawn on it to inspire people facing challenging circumstances.

Now, certainly Jesus didn’t know the expression, “when the going gets tough…”, but he did have this to draw on from the Book of Proverbs:

The wicked flee when no one pursues,

  but the righteous are bold as a lion.  (28:1)

Perhaps this is why, on learning his cousin John the Baptist has been arrested, Jesus decides to return to Galilee – the very region ruled by John’s imprisoner. 

From the outset of his story, everything in Mark’s gospel happens quickly.  It begins not with a birth narrative, like Mathew and Luke, but with a title:

The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

It then launches into the message John proclaims at the Jordon River.  At verse 9 Jesus appears and is baptized.  It takes Mark just five verses to tell us about this moment and how immediately afterward Jesus goes out into the wilderness to be tempted.  The comes verse 14 with the information Jesus returns to Galilee, his home, after learning of John’s arrest.

Now, we would not be surprised if Jesus went back and laid low; doing everything possible to keep his neck out of the noose.  Heck, we wouldn’t be surprised if he stayed as far away from Galilee as possible; a lesson he would have learned from his father, who upon returning from exile in Egypt and learning Herod’s son is ruling over the region of Bethlehem, takes his family to Galilee in order to be out of harm’s way.  And while we might think it unwise, we would not be completely shocked if Jesus went back home to call out the injustice of John’s arrest.  Jesus does none of these things.

Here is what he does:

“Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’”

Good news?  When John has been arrested?  When Roman soldiers brutally occupy the land?  When self-serving religious leaders fleece the flock rather than tend to it?  How can anyone talk about good news when bad news is rampant?  Well, Jesus can talk about it because he knows God is beginning to do something special.  He can feel deep in his spirit; a spirit which has been filled with the Holy Spirit.  The kingdom of God has come near, he says, and nothing can be more consequential and restorative than this.

This passage provides a wonderful lens through which we can reflect on where we are as parish at the occasion of our Annual Meeting.  Each of your wardens – Joby and Bill – present a similar theme in their reports to you.  They write about our building and attendance challenges, acknowledging the impact each has had on the Vestry’s morale.  This is the bad news.  The good news is found in eight new acolytes, an active youth group, beautiful, inspiring music from the organ and choir, enthusiastic hospitality after church, a talented and dedicated staff, faithful lay volunteers, the financial boost we receive from a well-managed, well-funded endowment, your financial generosity… I could go on and on.  This is the message I want to proclaim to you as we begin 2024 (the 382^nd year of our existence): the kingdom of God is near.

Yes, it is the same message Jesus brought to Galilee.  And he knows while he may be the standard bearer of the good news, but he cannot be the only one to announce it.  He begins to gather followers who will learn to live into the good news so more and more people will be caught up in it.  We need people here to live into the good news which is God’s presence in our midst.

If truth be told, three years from now, when Jesus is crucified, by objective standards very little will have changed.  Yes, a few people will have been healed, a handful of demons will have been banished, several thousand people will have heard Jesus teach, but the bad news will still remain.  Only through the power of the Resurrection and the imparting of the Holy Spirit will a mighty movement arise which will change the world.  We pray as we remain faithful to the good news in our lives God’s Spirit will rise up and lighten this darkened world of ours. 

When the going gets tough… the tough proclaim good news!

Transforming a Worldview

 

John 1:43-51

Epiphany 2 / Year B

Today’s Gospel reading is tantalizing both for what it tells and for what it does not.  It tells us Philip links Jesus to a long expected prophetic promise, but it does not tell us how or why he makes this connection.  It just reports Jesus says ‘follow me’ and Philip follows. 

But before (or perhaps as) he follows, Philip tracks down Nathanael to let him know what is happening.  On hearing where Jesus is from, Nathanael utters his famous quip, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?”  Philip replies with a less famous, but very significant response, “Come and see.” 

In Philip and Nathanael we have examples of two distinctive ways of operating in the world.  Philip is open to possibilities.  He sees people for who they are.  He is drawn to their inner qualities.  Nathanael, on the other hand, makes snap judgments about people based on old and often unfounded stereotypes.  He has an “us and them” outlook which divides people into two groups – those who are like me and those who are not.  He has a tribal mentality.

Who are you more like, Philip or Nathanael?  I am a little like both.  In my better moments I recognize the humanity of people, even if they are very different from me.  But, there are times when I look down my nose at folks who I suspect don’t measure up to my standards.

The Dalai Lama said this:

In today’s interconnected and globalized world, it is now commonplace for people of dissimilar world views, faiths and races to live side by side.  It is a matter of great urgency, therefore, that we find ways to cooperate with one another in a spirit of mutual acceptance and respect…  Whether one is rich or poor, educated or illiterate, religious or non-believing, man or woman, black, white, or brown, we are all the same.  Physically, emotionally, and mentally, we are all equal.  We all share basic needs for food, shelter, safety, and love.  We all aspire to happiness and we all shun suffering.  Each of us has hopes, worries, fears, and dreams.  Each of us wants the best for our family and loved ones.  We all experience pain when we suffer loss and joy when we achieve what we seek.  On this fundamental level, religion, ethnicity, culture, and language make no difference.

Philip, I think, gets this.  Nathanael does not… at first.  Upon meeting him, Jesus says of Nathanael, “Here is a person lacking guile.”  Asked how he knows this, Jesus relates he saw Nathanael earlier when he was sitting under a fig tree.  Well, whatever this is all about, it is all Nathanael needs to know to be convinced: “Rabbi, you are the Son of God, the King of Israel.”  It is as if his eyes are opened and all his prejudices and preconceived ideas melt away.

This exact transformation is something we must work for and pray for in today’s world.  It is no longer possible to live in a community where everyone else thinks and acts and looks like you.  Archbishop Desmond Tutu said this:

We must embrace our differences, even celebrate our diversity.  We must glory in the fact God created each of us as unique human beings.  God created us different, but God did not create us for separation.  God created us different that we might recognize our need for one another.  We must reverence our uniqueness, reverence everything that makes us what we are: our language, our culture, our religious tradition.

Philip knew this.  Upon meeting Jesus, Nathanael discovered it.

Tutu goes on:

We are made for goodness.  We are made for love.  We are made for friendliness.  We are made for togetherness.  We are made for all the beautiful things that you and I know.  We are made to tell the world there are no outsiders.  All are welcome… We all belong to this family, this human family, God’s family.

In this season of Epiphany we celebrate God’s light coming more and more into the world.  And we yearn and strain to be followers, disciples, children of the light.  And as Jesus promised Nathanael, we too, as we allow the light of God’s love dwell in us, will see angels descend and ascend on all we do. 

Baptism & Acceptance

 

Mark 1:4-11

Epiphany 1 / Year B

Earlier this week, the Episcopal News Service posted a story about two priests in the Diocese of West Virginia.  What did they do to warrant the attention of the faithful?  Start a new outreach ministry?  No.  Baptize fifty people at a single service?  Not quite.  Write a new Christmas carol?  Hardly.  So what then did they do to be noteworthy?  Well, while watching the Duke’s Mayo college bowl game, they took offense when the announcers put mayonnaise on a pepperoni roll (apparently West Virginians have strong feeling about their favorite foods).  So the two priests, who both serve in the diocesan office, took to Facebook with their complaints, which in and of itself, does not merit comment.  However, their post, as they say, went viral and received over 13,000 responses.  This the Episcopal News Service deemed to be worthy of a report.  

David Lose, a Lutheran pastor and seminary professor, observes we live in a culture where people crave affirmation.  He cites social media as one manifestation of this.  How many ‘friends’ do you have?  How many ‘likes’ did your last post receive?  How many ‘hearts’ did the picture your dog get?  Some on social media give only a passing thought to this while others are obsessed by it.  Wherever you fall on this scale, we seek affirmation because we are social creatures.  We want to be noticed.  We want to believe our life matters to others.  We want to be liked.

Lose contends being on social media crates the perception we are surrounded by a like-minded community of people who value us.  He asks why then does research reveal people today report feeling simultaneously more connected and lonelier than ever.  His answer, while we crave affirmation, what we need is acceptance.

Acceptance, Lose contends, is not the same thing as fitting in; a skill we learn as children and draw on time and again as adults.  In order to fit in we change ourselves so we will be accepted in our various peer groups.  This helps to explain why we may present ourselves one way at church and a totally different way with, say, our bridge partners or bowling buddies.  It can be a lot of work to act up or act out who you suppose you are supposed to be.  To be accepted means you are absolutely valued for who you are just as you are.

Which brings us to the baptism of Jesus.  As he emerges from under the Jordon’s waters he hears God’s voice, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”  Coming just a few verses into the beginning of Mark’s gospel, we are given not even a hint of what Jesus has done to deserve such status.  As David Lose writes, this much we do know: “Wrapped up in these words of acceptance are the blessings of identity, worth, and unwavering regard.”

This new self-awareness, along with receiving the Holy Spirit, empowers Jesus to launch into his public ministry of preaching, teaching, and healing.  Is there a connection between a sense of acceptance and a pursuit of mission; a connection between baptism and the “blessings of identity, worth, and unwavering regard”?  You bet there is. 

I am so very proud of our teenagers who about a year ago identified food insecurity as something important to them.  Over time, meeting with young people from Main Street Methodist and Suffolk Presbyterian churches, the group got excited about participating in a nation-wide movement known as “The Lil’ Food Pantry.”  Based on the concept of the lending library box, but focused on food, its motto is “Take What You Need, Leave What You Can.”  Will Henderson and Graham Webb came before your Vestry to present the idea and ask for funding, which they received.  They then set out to build a pantry, which is now located just outside the door of the Parish Office.  Other young people have thought through how they can publicize this new ministry so the community knows it is here to help and here to be stocked. 

I am inspired by the vision, dedication, enthusiasm, and effort of our teenagers.  Now, you may take these words as being rooted in affirmation, and most certainly those who have worked on this project (including Lee Cross) deserve to be noticed.  But for me, the praise I offer is grounded in acceptance.  Every person who seeks to live out the faith deserves our support and encouragement.  I am so encouraged God’s Spirit has moved and our young people have responded.

In just a moment we will renew our own Baptismal vows and promises.  We will remember what we have renounced (Satan, the world, and the self) and who we have embraced (Jesus, our Savior, Lord, and guide).  We will affirm the core of what we believe by rehearsing the Apostles’ Creed and we will recommit ourselves to the basic values and practices of the Christian life… with God’s help.

In this moment I hope you gain a sense of how deeply loved and accepted just as you are… not only by God, but also by your family in the faith.  And while the national religious media may not report on anything you ever do as you live out your faith, your life matters and your witness makes world a more loving place.  We are richer for all you do.  Thank you for the way and manner in which you live into your baptism. 

Knowing Who You Are Not

 

John 1:6-8, 19-28

Advent 3 / Year B

When I was in seminary, the first week of January was a thing unto itself.  On our third and final year, you took the General Ordination Exams.  The first year we were taught how to be lectors – a little class we referred to as “Read & Bleed.”  In our middle year we were schooled in the Sung Service; what we called “Rant & Chant.”  Thankfully, this class was pass/fail.  Show up every day for a week then turn in a cassette tape of yourself chanting and you pass.  When I got my tape back it had a post-it note attached to it by the professor.  It read simply, “You may want to practice more before you attempt to do this in public.”  Well, I have never practiced, nor have I ever led chanting in a service.

Here is a question rattling around in my head all week as I have pondered today’s gospel reading: How do you learn what you are not good at?  Put another way, how do you discover who you are not supposed to be?

One of the amazing things about John the Baptist is he knows who he is not.  The John the gospel writer tells us emphatically the Baptizer is not the light.  He is a witness to the light.  John himself says, “I am not the Messiah.”  When asked, he says, “I am not Elijah.”  “I am not a prophet.”  Was there a time when he considered he might be the Messiah or Elijah or a prophet?  Perhaps.  I wonder how he discerned who he wasn’t.  When asked, John famously states, “Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.”  Rather than a statement about humility, this too is a revelation about identity.   

In Levitical law, if a husband dies before his wife gives birth to a son, the husband’s brother is required to marry her in order to sire a son who will carry on the original husband’s name.  The brother is referred to as the ‘kinsman-redeemer’ because he redeems his kin’s name from death.  Now, if the brother refuses to take on this role and another person wishes to do so, that person takes the brother to the public square and in the presence of the elders takes a sandal off the foot of the one who will not do his duty.  By so doing, the willing person announces he will function as the kinsman-redeemer.  So when John says he is not worthy to untie the sandal of the one who is to come, he is saying, “I am not the redeemer, he is.”

Over my tenure of serving as your rector, we have been blessed to have two wonderful Music Directors/Organists – Al Reese and Thom Robertson.  We have not always been as fortunate.  In 1952 we hired Leroy Gross to fill this position.  Often referred to in the Vestry record as “Prof. Gross,” it seems he had a hard time getting along with folks.  He could not hold to spending limits, is divorced by his wife for desertion, takes up residence in the Parish House’s kitchen, and generally makes a pest of himself.  At one point he is told in writing by the Senior Warden to confine himself to the Music Room and not to interfere with the operations of the general offices.  Let your imagination run wild as you ponder what was going on!  In 1956 he resigns his position and the Music Committee hires his replacement – a Mrs. Thomas.  She prepares the choir and is ready to lead the hymns on her first Sunday, only to discover Prof. Gross at the organ bench.  He decides on his own and unannounced to unresign!  Whatever you might want to say about ol’ Leroy, he certainly is not the model of knowing who you are and who you are not. 

It occurs to me the times I have been most ineffective have been when I asserted myself into roles for which I was not well-suited.  It also occurs to me from a very young age we begin to learn who we are largely by weeding out who we are not.  My college chaplain told the story about teaching in a religion class on the Temple’s sacrificial system when a student passed out.  After revived, he said whenever he sees blood or even thinks about it he feels faint.  Then he added he needed to overcome this problem because he wanted to be a surgeon.

When I entered into the search process which eventually led to your calling me here, I considered want kind of church would be best for me to serve.  Out of college I worked as a lay minister at a huge church with three clergy and multiple full-time employees.  The two churches I served at as an assistant had an average Sunday attendance hovering around 300 people.  The two churches I served as rector averaged around 100 folks on Sunday.  I was the only priest and the only full-time employee.  Experts refer to this as a Pastoral size church. 

Now, many clergy in my position would have been looking to “move up”, to seek a bigger parish and the supposed prestige which accompanies it.  I wondered how do I know I would be happy in such place.  What if I don’t like directing staff and clergy?  I discerned I liked working in a Pastoral size church and that I understood its needs and unique dynamics.  And the rest, as they, is history.  Accepting your call has been one of the best decisions of my life.

We often talk about discovering who we are supposed to be and what we are supposed to do.  Equally important, but often flying under the radar, is ascertaining who we are not and what we are not called to do.  Through his clarity of self and place John the Baptist models this for us.  And because he knows who he is not he is ideally suited to be the voice in the wilderness pointing to the Light.

Make Straight a Path

 

Mark 1:1-8

Advent 2 / Year B

Several years ago I spent a wonderful week vacationing at Canaan Valley in West Virginia.  Now there is no easy way get to anywhere in West Virginia, hence there is no easy way to get home.  On my return trip I decided to make my way to Seneca Rocks, which was a wonderful decision if you don’t mind driving on remote roads.  From there I headed south and found myself on a scary, winding, narrow, and at times dirt road before connecting with U.S. 250, which I could have driven all the way to Richmond if I opted to.  A United States highway will be smooth sailing, I reasoned.  I could not have been more wrong.

Getting on 250 in the Monongahela National Forest and heading east, it took me nearly three hours to drive approximately 90 miles to Staunton.  There were, to my recollection, seven step accents and seven step descents over ridge lines.  And each way up and each way down over all seven was cluttered with numerous switchbacks and hairpin turns.  One ridge would have made for a fun drive.  Two would have given me my fill.  But after seven I vowed never again to drive 250 in West Virginia.  When I finally got to Staunton I decided to get on I64 and from there it was an easy drive home.

I thought about that drive as I pondered the words of the prophet Isaiah which we heard read just moments ago:

“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;

the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.

Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together,
for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

The people of Israel had lived in exile in Babylon for more than forty years, but change was on the horizon.  Soon they were going to be allowed to go home.  Isaiah’s call to make a straight, level, and smooth highway in the wilderness was a message of hope.  I was a call for the people to plan and prepare for a second Exodus.  And, it had a practical element to it: the path from Babylon to Jerusalem had been sparsely traveled for four decades and no doubt was in sad repair.  The journey was going to be arduous.

Five centuries later, John the Baptist quotes from Isaiah and draws on the call to prepare a way and to make straight a path but utilizes this in purely spiritual and personal terms.  John senses how the twists and turns of life, with its highs and lows, have left people feeling disoriented, uncertain, and lost.  For him, the way forward and the way to God had become much, much to difficult and the average person needed a way to be reoriented.

For John, this looked like calling people to repent.   The Greek word metanoia, which we translate as ‘repent’, literally means to stop in your tracks and turn around.  We might say “do a 180” or “make a U-turn”.  There is so much to distract us along our journey and our lives are going to be a mess until we decide to stop traveling in the wrong direction. 

John offered a way to ground one’s decision to repent… baptism in the River Jordon.  This provided people with spiritual strength to return to the way.  And getting on the right way is essential to prepare the way for the Lord, who wants to do something marvelous in and through you.  But for this to happen we need to stop and ponder what God desires from us.  The prophet Micah asked, “What does the Lord require of you?  His answer: “To act justly, love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God” (6/8).  If your life is not moving in this direction, then you need to repent.

I suspect for many of us the images of twists and turns and highs and lows (like driving in West Virginia) is more poignant than metanoia.  We are trying to do the right thing and to be the people God calls us to be, but there are so many obstacles in our way. 

We want there to be peace in the world, but other than prayer and perhaps a charitable contribution, there seems to be little we can do.  We want there to be civility in our society, but short of treating others with respect and limiting our exposure to the most reprehensible voices out there, again, there is little we can do.  We care about climate change, but other than being as responsible as we can be, we are powerless to make an impact on the bigger picture.  We want to live into the Baptismal Covenant’s promise to respect the dignity of every human being.  We can do our part, but sense in our world a rising disdain for ‘the other’. 

It occurs to me believing your witness does not make a difference is a distraction from which we need to make a metanoia.  And if one witness makes a difference, it gets doubled if another joins in.  Think what happens when an entire faith community commits itself to living into God’s dream for all people.  Add enough people and soon you have a movement and movements have the power to reshape the world, or, as Isaiah put it, “to reveal the glory of God.”

God calls us to make a straight way in the desert.  Advent is a season marked by hope and it comes at just the right time… when we are burdened by a spirit of despair.  Both Isaiah and John proclaimed a hopeful message and they call on us to change, to be expectant, to be ready, and to prepare the way of the Lord!

Marking Time with the Church Year

 

Mark 13:24-37

Advent 1 / Year B

One of the lead characters in Elizabeth Goudge’s novel The Dean’s Watch is a gentleman by the name of Isaac Peabody.  He is the town horologist – a clock and watchmaker who is one part tradesman, one part craftsman, and one part artisan.  Set in 19^th Century England, the novel gives the reader insight into an era when keeping time is cutting-edge technology.  Peabody makes weekly rounds to wind clocks and is constantly working repairs in his shop.  And the pieces he makes are a thing of beauty… as unique in their design and appearance as the individual they are intended to serve.  Every timepiece Peabody crafts is built to last.  With proper care he anticipates his clocks and watches will tell time accurately for generations to come.

From the beginning of time all living creatures have sought ways to mark time.  Do the geese migrating to the Eastern Shore or the salmon swimming the streams of the northwest know time, or do they merely respond to a deep, instinctual rhythm beating with the motion of the seasons?  Perhaps they do not choose how to mark time so much as they obey patterns the origins of which lies in God’s blueprint for life.

From the construction of Stonehenge at the dawn of civilization to today’s incredibly precise atomic clock human beings have conceived of ways to mark time.  This pursuit is more than a passing fancy.  Do you remember the Tom Hanks’ movie Castaway?  Do you remember how he traced the subtle movement of a ray of sunlight on the wall of a cave to mark the years he spent stranded on a deserted island?  The scene rings true because at an intuitive level we know the human need to manage existence by quantifying it into discernable rhythms of time.

We have a variety of ways to do this now.  There is the calendar, of course, with its days and months and years.  Linked closely to the calendar are the seasons.  But we also measure time through such diverse means as the workweek, the school year, and the programming schedule of TV and radio programs, to name just a few.  The choices are manifold, and it is ours to make. 

The Christian faith provides us a unique way to mark time.  We call it the church year, and today, the first Sunday of Advent, marks the beginning of a new year.  The focal point of the Christian measure of time is not the sun or a schedule of work, but rather the life of Jesus.  The seasons of the church year correspond with events which unfold during his life. 

In Advent we await his coming.  At Christmas we celebrate his birth.  During the season of Epiphany we remember how his divinity – his inner light – shown out for all to know and see.  On Ash Wednesday we confront our mortality and during the season of Lent we focus on the brokenness of our lives.  All of this leads us to Holy Week where we remember how, on the night before his death, Jesus creates a new community of love nourished by his presence in bread and wine.  On Good Friday we watch as Jesus carries our brokenness to the Cross.  On Easter Sunday we celebrate his resurrection and claim his promise that our own mortality and brokenness have been overcome.  On Pentecost we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit and during the weeks that follow we learn again what it means to be a follower of Christ in the world.

The church invites those of us who are so caught up in the marking of time to orient our pursuit by connecting with God… who exists beyond time… as God has been manifested in time in flesh and bone.  And while the story of Jesus does not change from year to year, we do.  We come to this Good News as new people; people whose experiences over the past year have changed us.  Perhaps we are older or wiser or richer.  Perhaps we are leaner or meaner or battered or bruised or broken.  Whatever has happened to us has opened us to hear God’s word and to receive God’s love in a new way.  Following the church year helps us to remember all of our life is in God; that nothing happens to us happens apart from God. 

During the Sundays of the coming weeks and months we will read primarily from Mark’s account of Jesus’ life.  These readings will invite us to link our story with his… to integrate all we are and all we do with who Jesus is and with how he lived his life.  As our lives continue to unfold Jesus’ words in Mark’s gospel will help us to make sense of what is happening to us and where life is taking us.  Invariably the story of our lives will thicken and we will look for strength and comfort in the midst of tension and struggle.  We will find the words we need in the words of Jesus.  And our stories will twist as unexpected events transform our lives for good or ill.   But through it all we will be encouraged to remain in God.

There are many ways we can mark time and how we mark time affects how we perceive the world around us.  Do you have to follow the church year to be a ‘good’ Christian?  Of course not!  It is not a requirement.  It is an invitation... an invitation to mark time by using the life of Jesus as your reference.  

The Sole Criteria

 

Matthew 25:31-46

Proper 29 / Year A

For the third Sunday in a row our gospel reading is a parable taken from the 25^th chapter of Matthew’s gospel.  Like the parables of the Ten Maidens and the Talents, today’s focuses on a final judgment.  Jesus tells these stories in Jerusalem just days before he will be arrested, tried, and crucified.  Either the disciples are getting smarter or Jesus is getting better at his story-telling, because, unlike so many of his early parables, this one requires no explanation.  It is as straightforward as it can be. 

Jesus is going to judge people on one basis and one basis alone.  He will not count how many times you came to church.  He will not quiz you for creedal orthodoxy.  He will not check to see if you are born again.  All Jesus will do is recall the times you gave him something to eat, to drink, or to wear.  He will recall when you welcomed him into your home, comforted him in sickness, or visited him in prison.  You don’t even have to know it is Jesus you did these things for.  Anytime you do it for anyone you do it for him. 

Notice who is being judged.  It is not the church or Jesus’ followers.  Jesus says “all the nations” will be gathered before the Son of Man and separated into two groups… those who did something for him and those who did not.  “All the nations.”  Any time we read a verse like John 14:6, “No one can come to the Father except through me”, the conversation always gets around to other religions and people of different faiths.  Will they be saved and will they be punished for not believing in Jesus?  Well, according to this parable the sole criteria used to judge every person regardless of faith or race or nationality is this: what did you do to help other people, especially the neediest and most vulnerable people in your society?  Were you generous, caring, and selfless or were you critical, hardened, and indifferent?

One of the things I wonder about this parable is Jesus’ grading scale.  If one time you give one cup of water to a thirsty person is this enough to get you into the sheep pen?  Or, conversely, if one time you fail to give a cup of water, will this get you rounded up with the goats?  Or, what if you do the right thing, but do it for the wrong reason?  Are you a sheep if you give food to the hungry but have disdain for them?  Are you a goat if you do the wrong thing for the right reason?  “Jesus, I didn’t give you $10 that one time because I thought you were going to use it to buy liquor.” 

I don’t know what the grading scale will be, but here is what I experience.  There are times I do the right thing because it is the right thing to do.  I do it because I need to do it in order to feel good about me.  And then there are times I do the right thing because I recognize the humanity of the person I am helping.  I see the person as a person and I recognize the person’s need and I see I have an opportunity rather than an obligation to help.  When I recognize the humanity of the other person and respond to it, I sense more acutely the Kingdom of God in my presence. 

The opposite is also true in my experience.  When I fail to recognize the humanity of another person, the world seems darker and more hellish.  C.S. Lewis thought hell is a place where one’s humanity is diminished.  N.T. Wright, the English bishop and theologian, envisions hell as the end of a process where one consistently choses to dehumanize what once was human.

The great challenge in life is to see in other people what God sees in them.  Our challenge is to love the other person as we believe God loves them.  The theologian Gustavo Gutierrez writes, “God is committed to the poor, not because the poor are good—but because God is good.”  Today’s parable reminds us a good God created us to be good to one another.

Ultimately, I believe those judged to be sheep receive their reward not because they reached an arbitrary percentage of helping others, but because during their life they cultivated a disposition to recognize the humanity of other people and to base their interactions on this.  This inclination nurtured in this life continues on to the next.  The goats are those who cultivate the opposite and consistently fail to recognize the humanity of others.  It is an inclination which continues into the life to come and they receive judgment not as punishment but, based on their life’s story, as a recognition heaven and all its ways is not a place they would enjoy.

On this final Sunday of the church year, we proclaim the Kingship of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  We affirm one day every knee will bow to him and all tongues praise his holy Name.  I tend to side with those who believe in a crowded heaven and an empty hell.  Many theologians hold to the theory of an empty hell because they believe in the end all people will respond to the call of a loving God who desires none should be lost.  We begin to open our hearts to God’s voice here and now and one way we do this is to recognize the humanity of every person we encounter and to respond to their most basic needs.