Text: Matthew 25:31-46 Revised Standard Version (RSV)
The Judgment of the Nations
31 “When the Son of man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. 32 Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate them one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, 33 and he will place the sheep at his right hand, but the goats at the left. 34 Then the King will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; 35 for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ 37 Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see thee hungry and feed thee, or thirsty and give thee drink? 38 And when did we see thee a stranger and welcome thee, or naked and clothe thee? 39 And when did we see thee sick or in prison and visit thee?’ 40 And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.’ 41 Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; 42 for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ 44 Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see thee hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to thee?’ 45 Then he will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me.’ 46 And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
“Life surprised me. It always does.”
This is a recurring line spoken by the character played by the late great Bette Davis in the 1987 movie, “The Whales of August.” It’s a story about two widowed sisters from Philadelphia who have come back to their family’s cottage on an island off the coast of Maine for the summer, as they have for the past 60 years. Libby, the sister played by Bette Davis, is blind, and Sarah, played by the equally-great Lillian Gish in her final role, who now owns the cottage and who wants to continue to savor life, finds herself the unwilling caregiver of her increasingly bitter and cantankerous sister. Sarah knows she can’t go on in this role, more owing to the emotional toll than the physical demands, because Libby has largely given up on life.
The events of the movie take place on a single gorgeous August day against the backdrop of the quaint little cottage and the vast, endless ocean. Through conversations the sisters have, interactions with the locals, and inner conversations Sarah has with her deceased husband (it would have been their 46th wedding anniversary), we learn about their past lives and the difficult choices that lie ahead. We also feel their nostalgia for what once was – youth, love, and remembering a time when the future was a bright and promising unknown. But now – the cottage may have to be sold, someone else will have to care for Libby, Libby’s daughter, Anna, doesn’t want to have anything to do with her mother anymore – and even the whales have stopped swimming by.
And yet … as the film progresses, we see little glimmers of hope here and there; and finally, at the end of the film, the sisters walk out to a point of land where they used to watch the whales go by – and there they are!
“Life surprised me. It always does.”
In the last scene of the movie, we see the sisters sitting on the point of the island, not as they are now, but as they were in their youth. And those magnificent whales spout and play as they swim by.
Hope, you see, does spring eternal! This is a pleasant surprise for Sarah and Lilly, who says again: “Life surprised me. It always does!”
Even though the heading of today’s Gospel lesson features that harsh word “judgment,” it has more to do with surprises, and hope. But above all, it has to do with – once again – love, and our loving response to the needs of the world.
Leo Tolstoy wrote a short story, published in 1885, with the title “Martin the Cobbler.” Sometimes you’ll find it under the title of “Where Love Is, God Is.”
Martin was a fine cobbler. He toiled, day after day, in his basement workshop, which had only a small window to let in sunlight. All he could see of the people walking past that window was their feet – but he recognized many of the shoes they were wearing, since he had either made them or repaired them.
Martin had had a wife, but she had died. All of their children had also died, except for one three-year-old son. After much debate as to whether he should give the child to his sister to raise or to do it himself, he decided to keep the boy at home with him. But, unfortunately, a few years later, this child also died of a fever.
At this point, Martin decided that he was through with God. How could God have allowed all this tragedy and pain to visit him? Nope, Martin said, no more.
But one day, a missionary came to his shop. Martin told him of all his hardships and suffering. The missionary listened to what Martin had to say, and then told him that he, Martin, should live his life for God. The missionary’s words sank deep into Martin. He bought himself a copy of the Bible.
At first, Martin only read it on holidays, but as he read more and more it became a daily practice. Martin’s life became full of peace and joy; after work every evening, he would sit down and read, and read, and read.
One day, he came across a passage about a Pharisee who had invited Jesus into his house, and while there, a woman entered and anointed Jesus’ feet with oil and washed them with her tears. Martin thought of himself as that Pharisee, as he was living only for himself. That night, as he slept, Martin thought he heard the voice of God Himself telling him that He would visit Martin the very next day.
The next morning, bright and early, Martin was in his shop, watching nervously – and a little skeptically – out his window and waiting for God. As he waited, he saw his neighbor, Stepanitch, shoveling snow. Martin invited him in for a warm drink, and they talked for a while. Martin told Stepanitch about Jesus and the Pharisee, and Stepanitch was moved to tears. When he left, Stepanitch thanked Martin for the food, both for the body and the soul.
Martin later saw a young woman outside with a baby. The baby was not properly dressed for the cold. Martin invited the young mother in for some food, and he also gave her warmer clothes and money. Martin also told her about Jesus and she thanked him and left. Then he saw a young boy stealing from an older lady. He went outside and settled their argument, and as he did so, he extended love and compassion towards the both of them.
That night, Martin went to bed sad and bewildered. Why had God not visited him? Then, as he slept, the three persons to whom he had showed hospitality that day, appeared in his home. They said that when he helped them he was helping God. Martin then realized that God had indeed visited him after all.[1]
Where love is, God is.
But what about the judgment we read of in this passage? What do we do with all this talk of separating sheep from goats? What does that have to do with surprises, or hope, or love? Well, as one Prof. David Jacobsen writes: “This is the final parable in the series of Matthew 24-25. It is a judgment vision over which the Son of Man presides. The ethical emphasis is no doubt there: Matthew expects not just words, but deeds.”[2]
The judgment we read about today has to do with what Matthew calls “the nations.” This is a shorthand term for all the non-Jewish, that is to say, Gentile, nations. Jacobsen goes on to say: “The question that Matthew’s Jesus handles in this vision is not about the ethics of the church or even Jesus’ disciples, but the response to the least of these on the part of the nations, the gentiles. Please recall as well that Matthew’s Jesus is concerned to equip and empower a persecuted church.”[3] If you are a member of a horribly persecuted little group, it is nice to hear someone say that Jesus, the King of the Universe, has your back.
But this is not a case of “You people are going to get yours, and we’re going to watch.” We can never lose sight of the fact that one of the central teachings of Jesus is “love your enemies.” Another is to pray for those who persecute you. Yet another of Jesus’ teachings is “Whoever does this to the least of these my brethren also does this to me.” He doesn’t say “whoever is in my group,” he says whoever, period. We are called to live according to this truly radical and otherworldly ethic.
Continuing with the theme of shoes, there’s an old Chinese proverb that says, “When your shoe is off, my foot is cold.” If you suffer, I suffer. If I suffer, you suffer. Throughout human history, it’s been a given that we really are all in this together. At our best, we remember that and live accordingly. At our worst, we forget it and unleash, willingly and by our own hands, one horrible calamity after another.
It’s interesting to note that, in this parable, the sheep and the goats are equally clueless as to just who it was they either helped or neglected. But Jesus does give his followers a vision as to how he will respond to “the nations.” First, of course, he will set all things right. But it means far more. God will remember their suffering in persecution. But God will also remember any kindness, any act of mercy and love from those “outsiders” to them, “the least of these,” regardless of whether or not they have a membership card. The way this parable has been understood and taught over the years, that it is about “us” and “them,” simply doesn’t wash. Goodness comes from outside of our team as much as it comes from inside. Evil can also come just as much from inside as from outside, too.
So, the question then becomes: What about us? What is our fate as God’s people? We certainly can’t say, at least not with a straight face, that we are persecuted in any way; but the prevailing attitude toward the church and Christianity in general certainly can at times make us feel more than a little shunted to the side in this culture that is undergoing profound change. How are we to navigate the rocks and shoals of this brave new world?
I think that a good start is to remember the lesson of Martin the cobbler – “where love is, God is.” We don’t need a degree in theology to give someone a cup of water. We don’t need a vast theological framework or a denominational affiliation to perform an act of kindness. All we need to do is follow what Jesus commands us: “And as you wish that men would do to you, do so to them (Luke 6:31).”
One small act of kindness and generosity to another is worth more than all of the preaching that has ever been done or ever will be!
Let us go, therefore, from this holy place today and live out that loving promise! And prepared for the surprises!
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
[1] Summarized from Tolstoy, Leo, “Where Love Is, God Is,” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Where_Love_Is,_God_Is
[2] Jacobsen, David Schnasa, “Commentary on Matthew 25:31-46,” November 26, 2017, Working Preacher, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3477
[3] Ibid.