Message for worship at West Richmond Friends Meeting, 18th of Eight Month, 2024
Speaker: Brian Young
Christ of the Breadlines - Fritz Eichenberg 1953
31 “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. 32 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, 33 and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. 34 Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world, 35 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, 36 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.’ 37 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? 38 And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you or naked and gave you clothing? 39 And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ 40 And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.’ 41 Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘You who are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels, 42 for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 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.’ 44 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?’ 45 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.’ 46 And these will go away into eternal punishment but the righteous into eternal life.”
I’ve always thought this passage to be a little unfair to goats. I think Gordon Hatcher would have agreed with me. Gordon was part of the church I served in California, Berkeley Friends Church. He and his wife Ellen were important in the life of that meeting, and also at an earlier time in its sister meeting in southern California, First Friends Whittier (which some of you know well). Gordon and Ellen lived for years in the developing world, primarily in Cambodia and Central America. Gordon’s profession as an agricultural veterinarian took them
there, and Ellen taught English and did other work as it came to her. Now, from one of his assignments, in Honduras, Gordon knew firsthand just how helpful goats could be—the work there was among villages devastated by a hurricane, and it centered upon providing milk goats. He also helped to train the families how to care for the animals sustainably. Those goats gave food and drink to many thousands who hungered and thirsted. So while I never got the chance to discuss this passage with him, I think Gordon would have also thought that it gives goats an unjustified bad rap.
Of course, the passage is not really about the character of goats vs. the character of sheep. The Gospel provides it as an initial metaphor for a group being separated in two. If I understand it correctly, it would not have been unusual for a shepherd in Jesus’ day, in Galilee or Judea, to have had a mixed flock of sheep and goats. During the day they would have been out in the pastures foraging here and there, but at night the shepherd would bring them in to shelter. The sheep might be put in a fold outside, but it was better for the goats to be in a more fully enclosed space, which in that period might have been a cave. So the metaphor originates in a shepherding practice that wasn’t about judgment, but about care; about stewardship; about what was best for each type of animal.
Nonetheless, in the passage this image is used in service of a vision of the end of things, a final judgment where a king, Christ as the exalted Son of Man, sits in the judgment seat. It’s useful to look at the context of this passage in the Gospel, where it comes in the story: beginning in chapter 24, Jesus has been teaching his disciples about the end, a future second coming of the Son of Man and a host of dreadful events that will precede it. And then earlier in chapter 25 he tells parables emphasizing the need to be ready for this coming: as wise bridesmaids who keep their lamps lit, and as servants who use well the talents given them by their master. And then immediately following is Jesus’ final Passover, and shortly after his arrest, trial, and execution. So this story of a judgment at the end of time comes as Jesus’ earthly time with his disciples is coming to an end; we would think naturally his people want to know what is next, though probably they are not thinking as far ahead as Jesus seems to be.
The fancy term for what Jesus is speaking about here is eschatology, which is literally “things concerning the end.” Eschatological visions come to us in both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament, and they usually concern the way that God will, at some future point in time, transform heaven and earth, vindicate the righteous, and condemn the unfaithful. These visions are often troubling because of their great violence—in some texts, like Revelation, not only human beings are destroyed, but creation itself is laid waste in God’s process of making all things new. I think many of us, especially in our commitment to nonviolence, would prefer a different story.
And yet—these texts are there in the Scriptures, and we have to struggle with them. How we interpret them is an important aspect of our faith as followers of Jesus, and—no surprise here—an issue on which Christians disagree widely. For fundamentalist Christians, and many evangelicals, these visions are to be read literally—they will occur as they are written, at some point in time which God ordains. You’ve heard me remark before on how much speculation there has been about exactly which point in time that will be, despite Jesus’ insistence that no human being will know, “not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father” (Mt 24:36). And thus far, none of that speculation has borne fruit.
There’s another way of reading this text, for many of us who lean on Biblical scholarship for help in interpretation; we benefit from understanding the historical context in which many of the New Testament texts were composed. Several of the Gospels were likely written, or at least assembled, in the period immediately following the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans in 70 AD. That included the leveling of the Temple, the center of Jewish life and worship. In that context, a world had just come to an end—not all of creation, but certainly the settled and sacred life of Judaism, and the Temple was still very significant in the new Christian movement at that time. In the context of that earthly violence and destruction, the end of things felt very real, and so it’s little wonder that hope for a future vindication for the faithful would make its way into the Gospels. And the violence of Revelation’s imagery comes at least in part from its development in one or another periods in the early second century CE during which Rome was persecuting Christians.
Yet a third way to read this: it’s important to remind ourselves that Friends have had a different approach to eschatology, that emphasizes the present action of Christ Jesus, working in our hearts and minds to bring an end like what the texts describe, but inwardly. The first Friends, who were formed in a very turbulent period of English history, felt that they were experiencing the events described in Scripture within themselves—not resulting in earthly violence, but in the destruction of interior strongholds of sin. The judgment of the Son of Man came within, against selfish evil in each person, putting darkness on the left and light on the right, bringing these Friends into a new state of being. And today we would do well to cultivate our spiritual lives in a similar way—to be open to God to such a degree that we might yield to this same judging, separating action, bringing us into a New Jerusalem in our hearts.
Regardless of which of these methods of interpretation we might use—any of these three, or another—it is important to recognize that we all have our blind spots. I was reminded of this recently, when I went to hear a Palestinian Christian leader speak a few weeks ago. Reverend Munther Isaac is a Lutheran pastor and teacher who lives in Bethlehem, in the West Bank, and leads Christmas Lutheran Church there. He was on a speaking tour to sound the call for more engagement among American Christians in the effort to end the war in Gaza. Reverend Isaac spoke with great gravity and pathos, bringing before us the tens of thousands of lives destroyed in Israel’s war against Hamas and the civilian population of Gaza. He also spoke against a theology that uncritically supports the present state of Israel because of what we can read in Scripture regarding the Jewish people as God’s chosen ones; this theology is often known as Christian Zionism, and it is widespread in the American church, especially with some of our evangelical brothers and sisters. And so regarding interpretation, Rev. Isaac pointed to this passage in Matthew 25, and how it is sometimes read among folks who say the Bible should be interpreted literally—he said he wished that more evangelicals would take this passage literally, and respond practically to the needs of the least of these—those who are hungry and thirsty, the stranger and the naked, the sick and the imprisoned—for clearly the people of Gaza are all of these.
It is, of course, easier to identify the blind spots of others than it is our own—and in relating this story, I don't mean to say that all of our evangelical brothers and sisters fail to read this text in its plain meaning, for many of them do. And there are many works of mercy, and hospitality, and welcome that those folks are engaged in, which sometimes put our own efforts to shame.
But it's not always easy to identify our own blind spots; Jesus had something to say about that as well. And so we should always be examining our own hearts, and consider what we might be ignoring in our reading of the Scriptures. One place like this for me has to do with the action of separation in the story. How do I feel about what the king does there? Do I desire to be among the righteous on the right, so I can be vindicated in the actions that I have taken? More, do I look across the gulf between me and those ones on the left, and think, “Well, now they’ve gotten what they deserve!! Serves them right!!!” Further, do I project that gulf into our present lives, so that I am separating the righteous, as I define them, from the unrighteous, as I define them, and letting that drive how I live, whom I choose to associate with, the way I participate in public life? There is far too much of this going on today.
So it’s important to remember that this part of the passage is not one of those where the message is “go and do likewise”. It is not ours to judge, for Christ is the only just judge. Part of the witness of this passage is that God is the only one fit to separate the righteous from the unrighteous; that is part of why it is situated at the end of all things. Until then, let us keep ourselves from unjust separations.
Finally, to say one thing about what this passage does encourage us to do: as Eric pointed out last week, it is to focus our attention on compassion and hospitality for the hungry and thirsty, the afflicted, the stranger and the unclothed and the prisoner. These are all key to authentic Christian discipleship. These are the things that, as we do them, we encounter Christ in the other.
Friends, our meeting finds itself in a singular place just now. We have been gifted with some incredible financial resources, and we are discerning how best to use them, to sustain our meeting and to extend God’s peaceful reign. In that light, what are Jesus’ words here calling us to? How might we use these gifts for the hungry and thirsty, the afflicted, the stranger and the unclothed and the prisoner? Let’s take all of this into the quiet together.
New Revised Standard Version, Updated Edition. Copyright © 2021 National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
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