Matthew 25:31-46
Surprising Standards
James Sledge November
26, 2023, Reign of Christ
There is an old Jewish folk tale where a
young rabbi wanted more than anything else to meet Elijah the prophet. (Elijah,
unlike other people in the Old Testament, had not died but had been taken up to
heaven in a whirlwind.) The father of this young rabbi told him that if he
diligently studied the Torah with his whole heart, he would indeed meet Elijah.
The young rabbi studied diligently for a
month but did not meet Elijah. He complained to his father, but the father only
scolded his impatience and told him to keep studying. One evening as the rabbi
was hard at his studies, a tramp came to his door. The fellow was disgusting to
look at; the young rabbi had never seen an uglier man in all his life. Annoyed
at having been interrupted by such an unsavory character, the rabbi shooed the
man away and returned to his studying.
The next day his father came and asked if
he had seen Elijah yet. “No,” replied the son.
“Did no one come here last night,” asked
the father.
“Yes,” replied the rabbi. “An old
tramp.”
“Did you wish him ‘shalom aleikhem’?” asked the father, referring to the traditional
greeting meaning “Peace be upon you.”
“No,” said the rabbi.
“You fool,” cried his father. “Didn’t you
know that that was Elijah the Prophet? But now it’s too late.” The tale goes on
to say that for the rest of his life, the rabbi always greeted strangers with
“Shalom aleikhem,” and treated them with great kindness.[1]
Tales such as this are not all that
uncommon, and the parable Jesus tells today is similar in many ways. People
encounter, or fail to encounter, either Elijah or the Son of Man based on how
they treat people who are unimportant, even unpleasant or distasteful. Jesus’
parable, however, is much more nuanced than the folk tale I shared, especially
if we can hear it more like the people for whom the gospel of Matthew is
written.
Matthew’s community is made up largely of
Jews who follow Jesus as their Jewish Messiah. For some years this church had
operated out of the synagogue as simply one more sort of Judaism, but in recent
years their relationship with the synagogue has soured, to the point that the
rabbis no longer welcomed them there.
Perhaps because the majority of their
Jewish colleagues had rejected Jesus as Messiah, the church had begun to reach
out to Gentiles, non-Jews. And as this church reads Matthew’s gospel, they hear
a parable, Jesus’ final parable, that talks about these folks they are trying
to evangelize.
It’s easy to miss this when we read
Matthew. When we hear that all the nations will be gathered before
(the Son of Man), that likely sounds like a way of saying all
people will be gathered, but Matthew’s church would not have heard it that way.
For them the term translated “nations” more regularly referred to Gentiles. And
besides, from a Jewish perspective, “the nations” was a way of speaking about
non-Jews, outsiders, them.
Jesus’ parable seems to address the
judgment of those Matthew’s church is trying to evangelize, and the church
members likely presumed that such a judgment would be based on how Gentiles had
responded to the good news about Jesus. But the criterion for judgment turns
out to be something quite different. “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.”
On one level, the parable says that
Gentiles, outsiders, are judged on how they treated Christian missionaries. Did
they love them as neighbors without ever having heard Jesus’ commands to do so?
Such a notion turns some typical understandings of evangelism on their head.
Here treating the missionaries well counts as much as embracing Jesus as their
Savior.
That is surprising indeed, but it may not
be the most surprising element of the parable, another thing we may miss
because we’ve been so conditioned to thinking of a triumphant Jesus. This
parable sits right up against the story of Jesus’ arrest, trial, and execution.
There is an audacious claim here. The one who the world judges as deserving
death is the very one who will judge the world. The contrast could not be more
vivid.
In this parable, the rejected and despised
one is the same one we celebrate today as the one who reigns over all the
cosmos, but it turns out that the ways of Jesus’ commonwealth are very little
like the ways of the world.
Unlike in our time, the followers of
Jesus’ in Matthew’s day were a small minority, often ostracized and
marginalized, and Jesus says that how Gentiles treat the “least of these,” the
most unimportant of these ostracized and marginalized people, is what counts
for something in the new day Jesus will bring. Do you realize how contrary this
is to the ways of our world?
In our world, we do nice things for those
we love, for those who are our friends, and for those who may be able to do
something for us in return. We’ve seen the latter on vivid display lately with
regard to the Supreme Court and the extravagant gifts given to some of the
justices. Presumably such gifts were given because the justices are important,
have power and influence. Certainly these generous donors would not do something
similar for a stranger, a prisoner, a homeless person, or someone struggling
with food insecurity. But Jesus says that treatment of those the world deems
unimportant and insignificant is what counts for something in God’s new day.
And if Jesus so values the kindness of
those who are outsiders, then surely Jesus assumes that his own followers will
do the same for those who are strangers, hungry, poorly clothed, incarcerated,
homeless, insignificant, or unimportant.
If Jesus judges
outsiders on how they treat the most unimportant and insignificant, then surely
he expects his followers to create a different sort of world.
I just used a Mr. Rogers illustration in a
sermon two weeks ago, but this story seems to go well here, so here’s another. After
all, he was an ordained Presbyterian pastor so he’s one of our own.
A
limo once took Fred Rogers to a fancy dinner party at a PBS executive’s home.
When they arrived, Rogers discovered that the driver was supposed to wait
outside until the party was over. But Rogers insisted the driver come in and
join the party, much to the dismay of his wealthy host.
On the way home, Rogers sat up front with
the driver. Learning that they were passing near the driver’s home, he asked if
they might stop so he could meet his family. The driver said it was one of the
best nights of his life. Mr. Rogers played jazz piano and visited with the
family late into the night. And for the rest of his life Rogers sent notes and
kept in touch with a driver he met one night.[2]
In some small way, I think this story
embodies the sort of thing Jesus is talking about in today’s parable, about the
ways of Jesus’ new commonwealth. In that new day, how people treat the
unimportant and insignificant, how they respond to the needs of those who can
do nothing in return, are the things that truly matter.
At our recent church retreat at Massanetta
Springs, the retreat leader quoted from the Book of Order where the last
of the great ends or purposes of the church is, “the exhibition of the Kingdom
of Heaven to the world.”[3]
That is what we do when we love and care for the least of these. We put God’s
new day on display for the world. We model a different sort of world to those
around us.
When Jesus came to Palestine all those
years ago, he began to create an alternative community where all were welcome,
especially those on the margins. Jesus invites us into that community, whoever
we are, wherever we’re from, and whatever we imagine makes us unwelcome. And he
calls us to expand that community as we model Jesus’ love to an angry and
hurting world.
