Matthew 25:31-46

I have a colleague in ministry who only reads the first part of this passage to his congregation. When the second part comes around – the part about ignoring the needy and facing eternal punishment – he simply ends the reading. I understand the move in a way. He believes in a God of love and he finds it hard to reconcile such a God with the image of an eternal punishment for those who have missed the boat. It’s not just that it seems mean; really, it’s the hope that God is greater than our human failures. It’s the hope that God overcomes our faithlessness; that God has more in store for us – even the sinners among us – than we might deserve. In a sense, it seems small of God to allow our human fallibility to get in the way of God’s good purposes in creating us.

So, I sympathize with my friend who cuts the passage in half. But, I don’t make the same move. I believe it is important to reread the familiar passages, even the ones we don’t like very much. It keeps us accountable to the words as we have them and to the process of receiving God and not simply making God up into a kind of embodiment of the values we most esteem.

The passage begins, “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another…” The words seem straight forward enough, though if we had time it might be helpful to begin our reading in chapter 24 where this whole discourse about Christ’s final coming really begins. It takes us through the prediction of the temple’s destruction, to a description of the Messiah’s victorious return, to three strange parables about how believers are to live in the mean time, and then finally to today’s passage.

What I never knew about today’s passage is a fact that makes a huge difference in how we read it. Though it says that he will “gather all the nations” before his judgment seat, the word that is used here would indicate a different kind of gathering. The word for “nations” isn’t the same word the author would have used for “everybody.” Rather, it’s the word “ethne,” which in Jewish Greek had come to mean all the non-Jewish peoples of the world. In the final day at the glorious return he will gather all the gentiles, all the pagans, all those who are outside of the faith, and those people will be judged too. (He’s not just our king; he’s everybody’s king!) That’s the way the early readers of Matthew’s gospel would most likely have heard the passage.[1]

Have you ever asked that question: what about the millions and millions of good people in this world, people who are kind and thoughtful and compassionate, people who love consistently, who look beyond themselves, who make the world a better place, but who don’t believe in Jesus? What happens to those people in the story of our faith? Where do they fit in as we think about the rule of our Lord and the Kingship of Christ? (After all, today is “Christ the King” Sunday.)

Don’t you know people who are good, people whom you admire and perhaps even love, who count themselves to be among faith’s outsiders? (Before Lee and Linda left for Florida Lee was telling me about a neighbor of his whom he admires so much. He told me about how this neighbor had helped in our, how he’s always so thoughtful, and generous; how he goes out of his way to care for other people. Then he said, “He’s the best Christian I know, … except he’s a Jew.”)

I imagine that perhaps there are even times when you would count yourself among the outsiders, those who can’t quite say they buy it all – times when your faith meter runs low.

Well, the good news is that here in Matthew’s picture of the end of times, people such as these have hope. As I think about it though, that’s not the most remarkable part of it all. What strikes me is that Jesus is about to make the greatest sacrifice a person might make. He’s about to die for the well-being of others and as he prepares his disciples to accept and trust God’s wisdom in the face of his death, he deems it important to show his followers how the grace of God will extend even to those who either cannot or will not embrace his gift. (He’s not just concerned with his own kind; he’s concerned with all kind!)

Apocalyptic language, such as we’ve heard today, was generally used to strengthen and encourage the faithful in the midst of challenging times. It generally leans pretty heavily on the “victory” motif: Christ the victor! Christ the King! But here in Matthew 25 it seems that Jesus wants to qualify that kingship just a bit. If you want to serve this King, he says, you will serve the hungry. I’ll be with the thirsty. I’ll be with the stranger, with the poor man, with the prisoner. That’s where I’ll be, and when you care for them you’ll care for me.

To be honest with you I’m not sure how all this stacks up against the pressing issues facing our lives today. I imagine in a way it would be nicer to have a God who would snap his fingers and fix our long stagnant economy, for instance. That would give us all some peace of mind, but, that, it seems, is not the kind of King we’ve been given. Instead, we learn that the “Hope of the World” is somehow aligned and identified with those whose economies have long since crashed.

I know that there are over 6 million Syrian refugees who have fled their country, their homes, their livelihoods, their schools, their incomes, all for fear of their government, many of whom now live in refugee camps that look like massive tent cities.

I know that there are people in Haiti who have watched their homes, their crops, and their livelihoods slide away in muddy floods, leaving them with not even a clue as to what to do next.

I know that Palestinian children are growing up under a state of violence and oppression, malnourished, poor, and with little access to medical care or even clean water.

I know that right here in CT, in the richest county in the richest state in the country, 1 in 10 family struggles to find their next meal.   In CT cities 1 out of every 5 families lives in poverty.

What I also know is that whether we are believers or not when we care for “the least of these” we also care for Christ. When we know the least of these we know Christ. When the least of these becomes our priority Christ does too.

It may very well be that before the King of Kings believers and non-believers will be held to different standards. I’m not sure. Personally, I plan to rely heavily on grace. What seems clear is that what is expected from those outside the faith is at the very least expected of us. At the very least, to be faithful means both to care and to act.

[1] See Douglas R.A. Hare’s commentary on Matthew in the Interpretation series, 1993.