Serving Jesus in Everyone: Sermon for the Feast of Christ the King, Year A

In 2013, a piece of artwork based on our gospel passage was installed outside Regis College, the Jesuit School of Theology at the University of Toronto. But its journey there had not been straightforward.

It started when Canadian sculptor and devout Catholic Timothy Schmalz was creating meditating upon the passage “Whatever you did for the least of these, you did to me.”

And so, he began the work, and cast his first bronze of his piece. It depicted a life-sized park bench, about 8 or 9 feet long. On one end of it, with room for another person to sit down on the other end, is a human figure, huddled under a blanket drawn up like a cloak, no hands or face visible, lying on its side. The only part of the actual body visible are the feet, sticking out from under the blanket, bare. Two open wounds are visible on the center of the feet, gaping open slightly. The statue is called “Homeless Jesus.”

Casts of this statue have now been installed on five continents, including one in Capernaum in the Holy Land. One has been installed in Rome outside the Papal Office of Charities, where, when Pope Francis encountered it in 2016, he touched its knee, closed his eyes, and prayed.

But what is interesting is how people have reacted to this statue. Ironically, the first two cathedrals that were offered the statue, one in Canada and one in New York, both turned it down. It was too controversial. It was too shocking. They claimed that ongoing renovations prevented them from installing artwork.

When an Episcopal parish in North Carolina became the first home for a cast of the statue in the US, a neighbor wrote an angry letter, while another person in town called police, thinking that the person on the bench was real. Others complained that depicting Jesus as a homeless person was insulting to Jesus, and damaged the neighborhood esthetic. But the priest at St. Alban’s, Davidson, says that most people now who see the statue sit down on the bench alongside Jesus, place a hand on his feet, and pray.

Jesus, who admitted he had no place to lay his head, rejected by people for revealing who he is. Where have we heard that before? Two mighty cathedrals, rejecting an image of Jesus that isn’t an idealized one—but that may be actually a whole lot closer to the truth of who Jesus is and remains for us today. A Jesus who was put to death by empire because his message of love was dangerous to the forces of fear.

It may seem disconcerting, to say the least, on the day we celebrate his reign on earth and the claim that he is King. However, if you listen to the readings in today's lectionary selection, perhaps it's not so surprising after all. All four of our readings talk about leadership and the right use of power, especially political power, with once again the word “political” being used in its best sense as referring to the good of the community.

Our reading from Ezekiel begins with the denouncement of unfaithful priests and kings, those who held religious and political power over the people. Here Ezekiel was doing the most dangerous work that a Prophet could do at the command of God --to denounce the leaders. This is what usually got profits killed, to be honest. And Ezekiel spares no details in the verses before our reading today, listing a long line of offenses: they gorge in themselves while the people starve, taking the best and leaving the scraps answering the need for healing with harshness and cruelty. In fact, Ezekiel depicts the kings and priests as devouring those whom they were supposed to care for. Therefore, God has decided to step in and take charge of caring for the people, using the metaphor of God is the Good Shepherd That closely echoes Psalm 23.

In verse 16, God promises to feed both the weak and the oppressors with justice. Depending on where you stood, that promise was either comforting or ominous. The next verse makes it clear that God is judging between people who may look the same to the outward eye, but whose actions have brought either respite or rejection upon their heads.

In our gospel, one of my favorite passages from Matthew, the idea of comparison and judgment is carried forward, this time carried out by Jesus, sitting on his throne as the King of heaven. The subtitle that often accompanies this reading is the Judgment of the Nations. Once again, just like in our Ezekiel reading, we see a pastoral image, this time of sheep and goats. Jesus listeners would have known that in the Middle East it was a common practice to have the sheep and goats be together in one flock, since their grazing methods were complementary. But what we often don't understand when we hear this parable, in our North American context especially, is that in many parts of the world sheep and goats actually look incredibly similar, so much so that unless you can see their tails you might not be able to tell them apart.

In fact, mistaken identity plays a big role in this story. Jesus as King divides the flock in front of him not based on how they look, but based on what they have done --based on how they have embodied the gospel values that Jesus has been teaching throughout his life to his followers, even if they themselves may not have been able to identify as such. And what are those gospel values that Jesus expects his followers to fully embrace?

Feeding the hungry (for I was hungry and you gave me food,)

Giving water to those without it (I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink,)

Welcoming strangers and refugees (I was a stranger and you welcomed me,)

Clothing those without clothing (I was naked and you gave me clothing,)

Caring for the sick and injured (I was sick and you took care of me,)

Visiting the imprisoned rather than denigrating them as being subhuman for being “criminals” (I was in prison and you visited me.)

When Jesus separates the righteous and praises them, inviting them to enter into the Kingdom of heaven, you'll notice that even the righteous are confused. Jesus claims that they have cared for him devotedly. The funny thing is, they don't remember any of that—at least not that they did it to Jesus. Likewise, Jesus denounces the unrighteous for ignoring him.

The unrighteous likewise claim to have not seen Jesus anywhere before. That’s when Jesus makes it clear. They expect Jesus to look like them, talk like them, and judge like them. But God’s justice is not based on human ideas of respectability. God’s justice is grounded in restoring hope to the hopeless and love to the supposedly unlovable.

The righteous are willing to care for others, without any thought of what’s in it for them, even when they think no one’s looking. The unrighteous see no one outside themselves that don’t deserve their troubles, and so do nothing to alleviate the suffering that swirls all around them, if only they care to acknowledge it. If there’s nothing in it for them but time and expense, they are not interested. Even with their noses buried in scripture, their hearts have not been changed by Jesus’s call not just to belief, but to transformation.

For the last three weeks, we've been listening to part of Jesus’s discourse about the end of times and his eventual return, while in our epistles we've been hearing the disappointed hopes of those in the church in Thessalonica who thought that Jesus would return in their lifetimes. Now however Jesus makes a startling claim one that is intensely relevant for us today: Jesus has been here all along. There is no need to wait for a second coming. Jesus is present right now among the most marginalized and despised of people.

Once again, it is glaringly obvious that Jesus doesn't demand any statement of belief in order to be welcomed and celebrated as being faithful. The sheep don’t get claimed because they can recite creeds without crossing their fingers behind the back, or detail how many sacraments there are, or what exactly happens to the bread and the wine when it is consecrated. In fact, in bringing all the nations before Jesus for judgment, there would be plenty who had never heard of Jesus or ascribed to Jesus’s teachings. Nonetheless, they are celebrated for having served God if they have done those works of mercy and compassion that have sought to alleviate suffering in real and tangible, even if small, ways.

What's in your head is not important. What's in your heart most certainly is. And it is with your heart that you can see Jesus in every person, no matter how desperate, or despised, or degraded. In fact, Jesus specifically aligns himself as a king with those who are outcast by all decent folk.

Throughout the gospels Jesus makes it clear that the kingdom of God is within us, even those of us who are not exactly sure who Jesus is, and even those who are much too certain that Jesus is just like them, all buttoned-down and respectable. Serving Jesus in everyone around us—especially among the despised—reminds us of the immediacy of our work.

Bringing Jesus’s kingdom into being here and now is the call of discipleship. The question is, can we really embrace the beauty of the kingdom, knowing that it’s not going to be like a garden party?

God’s kingdom is about generosity, grace, and mercy. It rejects the calculus of “law and order” that insists that the denigrated deserve their fate.

Therefore, we create the kingdom when we feed the hungry and gave a drink to the thirsty, when we clothe those who are cold and naked, when we comfort the sick without worrying we will expose ourselves, and visit the imprisoned rather than justify their deaths even for petty disobedience.

We create the kingdom when we acted as if we saw Jesus in the exact people too many of claim to be “broken” or unworthy of dignity or compassion. We are called to serve our king the convict, our king the refugee, our beggar king huddling for shelter.

The kingdom of heaven is also not centered upon our own personal salvation. Making Christ our king means letting love and caritas rule our hearts. Once we accept Jesus as our Lord and king, we are not done. Making a choice to save ourselves is easy. That is why true salvation lies in what we do for others rather than what we do for ourselves by clinging to Jesus like a lifeline. As we are reminded, if we want to save our lives, we must be willing to look beyond ourselves. Proclaiming Jesus’ name will not bring about the kingdom of heaven—living out Jesus’ love among our fellow beings will bring about the kingdom of heaven and show that Jesus is our king. We acknowledge our king not by words but through what we do and how we serve him in each other.

Amen.

Preached at the 10:30 online service at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO in time of coronavirus.

Readings:

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24
Psalm 100
Ephesians 1:15-23
Matthew 25:31-46