Matthew 25.31-46

Christ the King | 26 November 2023 | Matthew 25.31-46 | Richard O. Johnson |

Jesus said, “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 as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’ Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?’ Then he will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” (Matthew 25.31-46 NRSV)

Over the past few weeks, most of our gospel lessons from Matthew have had a theme of judgment. Usually this has been expressed in the form of a parable—bridesmaids shut out of the wedding feast, wicked servants cast into outer darkness. I don’t know about you, but those phrases make me distinctly uncomfortable. As I have read them in church on Sunday, I have often tried to do so with a twinkle in my eye, or a tone in my voice that suggests a little humor, hinting that Jesus was joking a bit to make his point. The idea of God’s judgment on us is a hard one, and frankly, it’s a hard sell. Nobody wants to think of Christ as a judge. “Judgment” has become a negative word in our religious lexicon. We joke about “fire and brimstone preachers,” and we earnestly sympathize with those who claim to have abandoned Christianity because it was too judgmental. Our theology runs more toward “What a friend we have in Jesus”; there’s not much room in the present culture for a judge.

Somehow, though, when we come at this end of the church year to this morning’s parable, it is hard to avoid thinking about judgment, and I find myself wondering whether perhaps we should think more about it than we do. This morning let’s consider Christ as our Judge, but through the lens of Paul’s prayer that “the eyes of your heart might be enlightened.”  If we look at this awesome image of a final judgment with the eyes of an enlightened heart, what might we see?

Christ cares what we do

Perhaps the first thing to see is that all these parables of judgment proclaim the utter importance of what we do here in our earthly journey—the decisions we make, the actions we take, the words we speak. So often those things seem pretty small in the larger scheme of life; and yet Christ cares deeply about them.

Think about it this way: When you love someone, you care about everything they do. You are interested, at the end of the day, in how things went for them at school or at work. You are interested to know who they talked to, what they said, what they felt and did, what they had for lunch. You are interested in all these things because when you love someone, you want to know them, to know all about them; and everything, even these seemingly insignificant matters, make up the totality of who they are.

It’s that way with Christ’s love for us. It is a love that cares deeply about every aspect of our life. Christ cares if we are happy or sad; he cares about what we say, and what we think, and what we do. He cares about these things because he loves us. When we confess our faith and vow to love and serve him faithfully, Christ rejoices. If we do that thoughtlessly, and with no actual intention to let our faith impact our lives, Christ is grieved. From Christ’s point of view, the words we speak, the promises we make, the deeds we do, the thoughts we think—all these things are deeply important because of his love for us.

The parable this morning suggests that there is eternal meaning in the most insignificant of actions, in every moment of our lives. It also suggests that you and I are often completely unaware of that significance, at least in the present moment. Those on the king’s right hand in the parable had done simple things. They had given food to a hungry person, or visited someone who was sick. They hadn’t thought much about it, they had just done it. And yet in the light of this final judgment, those simple acts take on great significance.

The importance of little things

Our lives are constantly changed by little things. Occasionally these are terribly dramatic. We’ve all read stories of people who were supposed to board the Titanic but didn’t, for some trivial reason or another. They spent the rest of their lives saying, “If it hadn’t been for that little thing, think what would have happened to me.” Sometimes there are small things that appear significant only in retrospect—the chance introduction that leads to a lifelong friendship or even a marriage; the passing conversation that ultimately results in a career change. In these instances, we can see the import of seemingly minor things—but we see them only in retrospect. When they are happening, one never knows what is reallyhappening.

And that’s what this parable is about. Those who refuse to care for the needy have no idea about the ultimate importance of their actions—but neither do those who humbly do care for the needy! Everyone is unaware of the significance of what they are choosing to do or not to do.

One important implication of that is that we cannot, we must not, obsess over every little thing we do. The idea here is not to say that we must be utterly serious every minute, lest we do the wrong thing!—that would be a sure recipe for despair, because we can never know the significance of what we do!  No, it is much more subtle than that. What Jesus is saying is that we must live as though life were important. We must take things seriously. We must recognize that what we do, what we say, even what we think, matters, even if we cannot always understand just how it matters.

Focus on Christ

But above all else, what the enlightened eyes of the heart teach us is that the way to live faithfully and with hope is to focus, not on ourselves, but on Christ. It is to look away from ourselves and keep our attention on him. I think that’s what Paul is saying when he proclaims that Christ is “seated at God’s right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named.” He’s saying that Christ is the focus of everything for us. If we keep our eye on him, we will not be misled. If we keep our attention on him, we won’t need to worry about every little decision we make, because he will direct us.

When someone is confirmed in the Lutheran church, they promise and continue to commit themselves “to live among God’s faithful people, to hear God’s Word and share in his supper, to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed, to serve all people…”  These things are just what the Christian life is about! They are, from one perspective, little things—and yet from another, from the perspective of our parable this morning, they are big things indeed. Too big, in fact, for any of us to do them. But the words of response in the confirmation liturgy go like this: “I do, and I ask God to help and guide me.” That’s all any of us can say, is it not? We live our lives, following Christ the best we can, continually asking him to help and guide us because we cannot do it alone.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer once put it this way: “The Christian life is not one of gloom, but of ever-increasing joy in the Lord. God alone knows our good works, all we know is God’s good work. We can do no more than hearken to his commandment, carry on and rely on his grace, walk in his commandments, and—sin. … But we believe, and are well assured, that [Christ will continue to work in us]. … We are simply to look away from ourselves to him who has himself accomplished all things for us, and to follow him.” St. Augustine put it even more simply: “Love God, and then do what you will.”

And so, we read this parable of judgment, and we tremble. We hear in it Christ’s reminder that how we live matters, that what we do or don’t do matters, not just for this life but for all eternity. And yet we hear this with hope, even with joy—because we know that Christ works within us, using us, guiding us, directing us, enlightening the eyes of our hearts, “giving us a spirit of wisdom and revelation as we come to know him.”  May that spirit of wisdom grow in us each day, even to eternal life.

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Pastor Richard O. Johnson

Webster, NY

roj@nccn.net