Happy Lutheran

A sermon on Matthew 25:31-46; the sheep and the goats.

One of the gifts of the lectionary is that, often, we who preach, teach and study Scripture are brought into uncomfortable proximity with texts that challenge our understanding of the gospel and Christian discipleship. It is a gift, but not always a welcome one.

Personally, for me, today’s text is one of those gifts I’d rather return—or at least exchange! This is perhaps my least favorite parable Jesus tells, because to my mind, it fosters two of the worst tendencies Christians can exhibit: smug judgment and condemnation for others, and smug self-justification for ourselves. We so love a world of sheep and goats—even though, as we all know, this whole “sheep/goats” division doesn’t really pass the eye test so well.

At first read, this parable seems to align perfectly with our own sense of justice, based on right and good behavior. You Minneapolis Christians who are marching and singing and protesting the deplorable, violent actions of ICE? You immigrant families who are on the front lines helping each other in these dangerous and desperate times, trying to keep each other safe?  Well done, good and faithful servants. Into heaven you go.

And you, government officials, ICE agents and collaborators who reject Jesus’ call to serve and care for the neighbor, the most vulnerable? You go to hell.

Boy, does that feel good. How I love when God is on my side, seeing things the way I do. How I love a version of the gospel that so perfectly aligns with my own sense of justice. Don’t we just embrace a parable in which we get to be the heroes, when our good behavior gets us a seat at the right hand of the throne of God.

But, Jesus doesn’t let us off so easily. Because with this text in particular, here’s the problem. When push came to shove and Jesus himself had to make a choice, he chose not to leave anyone outside God’s love. And Jesus turned his back on heaven; Jesus went to hell. Jesus chose to die on the cross for those ICE agents, politicians, and for all the others who stepped over neighbors in need, turned their backs on the hungry, and withheld support and care from the helpless. When push came to shove, Jesus followed the goats into their place of wretchedness and misery.

And remember, friends, that choice was a real one. This is not John’s Gospel, where the all-knowing Jesus, master of God’s plan of salvation, bows his head regally on the cross and says, “It is finished.”

No. This is Matthew’s Gospel—the only Gospel, by the way, where Jesus speaks of the outer darkness, the Gospel where Jesus mentions the threat of Gehenna the most.

So, when Jesus makes the deliberate choice to accept this damnation for himself, it is an agonized Jesus on the cross who cries out to God, believing that God has forsaken him, believing that he is lost. This Jesus, if the Gospel writer can be trusted, fully believes himself to be alone and condemned at the end of his life. Jesus chooses hell. Jesus chooses the goats.

So, what does this mean for us today? And by today, I mean, in this very moment, when we are watching government brutality play out before our very eyes, when those who are beloved to us are forced to hide and cower in terror, facing the break-up of their families, physical violence and deportation.

Well, surely, there is no question that Jesus calls us to serve the neighbor in his name, especially the most vulnerable among us—and we know who that is. Make no mistake, our actions in this world matter, our voices and our choices matter. We are called to speak out against injustice and stand up against violence. This is the call of a Christian. This is the life of a Christian disciple.

And at the same time, in this action, in this speaking, we are called to remember that those whose actions we stand against are also children of God for whom Christ died. And we are called to respond to them with love: fierce love, angry love, fiery love, but love nonetheless.

Because, in case you haven’t noticed, this us versus them mentality is not working. A world of sheep and goats is a world of fear, suspicion, finger-pointing and scapegoating. It is a world where everyone loses, and no one has peace.

Today’s gospel text leads us down a difficult road, a path beyond our own sense of fairness, our own sense of just desserts, and certainly beyond our own sense of self-justification. This parable invites us to let all that go—as hard as it may be sometimes—and instead follow Jesus where he leads us. And again, surely that is into costly service for the neighbor, putting our bodies on the line to care for the bodies of others. But it is also into costly service for the enemy, the goats, those whom Jesus refused to abandon in their selfishness, malice, and ignorance. Not by saying everything is fine, that there are no consequences for mercilessness, or that everyone and everything is the same. But by believing that God’s love, mercy and grace really are for everyone—and living into that belief, such that it becomes reality.

God’s long table seats more than we could ever imagine—perhaps even more than we would like, sometimes. Look again at the final clauses in each verse from our opening hymn: Christ breaks down, breaches and tears down every wall, every fence, all the divisions we make that exclude others. This is who Christ is, and this is who he calls us to be in his name. This is costly discipleship indeed. There is no other option, and so we march on.

To that end, in the words from Monday’s chapel service, may God continue to birth the beloved community within each of us. And may the transforming power of the Holy Spirit continue to work her formation in all of us until all are welcome, and all find a home, and we all live together as one flock in the same pasture—justly, safely, and peacefully.