Father Gary’s Sermon

Inspired from Matthew 25:31-46

Proclaimed on November 20, 2005

A poor, hungry man was walking down a street in a village in medieval Turkey. He had only a piece of bread in his hand. He came to a restaurant where he saw some meatballs being grilled. The cooking meat was so near and the smell so delicious. The man then held his piece of bread over the meat to catch some of its wonderful smell. As he started to eat the bread the angry restaurant owner seized him and took him away to see the judge. Said the restaurant owner to the judge, “This man was stealing the smell of my meat without asking for permission. I want you to make him pay me.” The judge thought for a moment, then held his purse in front of the owner and shook it. “What are you doing that for?” asked the owner of the restaurant. The judge replied, “I am paying you. The sound of money ought to be payment enough for the smell of food.”

This little story about fair judgment is an apt introduction to our Gospel today that is about Jesus--the fair judge. It is about Christ the King. In this lesson Jesus gives us a little whiff of himself. He presents himself as the Lord with all of the nations round about his feet as he passes judgment on each of them. As a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, so Christ (as the judge) separates the worthy from the unworthy. How God’s justice is implemented, however, may have a lot to do with how the sheep and goats are separated from one another. Back in 1979 I was studying at Hebrew University in Israel. Our class was taken into the Sinai Desert to continue our study of salvation history. While camping in a sandy basin, I noticed a flock of sheep and goats on a nearby rocky knoll. The sheep were white and the goats were black. At my initial observation they were mingled together. As I approached them, however, they suddenly began to separate and go in opposite directions--the sheep went to the right and the goats went to the left. In this instance, separating the sheep from the goats was very easy. All it took was my presence. What if this were true of Christ’s judgment, as well. What if his judgment was simply a matter of Christ’s presence and how we respond to his presence? Some of us will be drawn to his love, as we seek not only to be united with him, but as we seek to be united with the Christ in others, especially those less fortunate than ourselves. On the other hand, some of us will say, “No, leave me alone. I want to remain separated! It’s more comfortable!”

This is by no means an unknown understanding of our Lord’s love and judgment. This same irony is suggested well in a little story about St. Innocent of Alaska. A deacon once asked him, “Vladkiha, if God is infinitely merciful, how can God deprive anyone of his heavenly Kingdom? And why do you keep twisting your head about from side to side?” The good saint answered with a query of his own, “Why don’t you sit still?” “Because the sun keeps hitting me right in the eye and won’t leave me in peace,” answered the deacon. “Aha!” responded St. Innocent with a slight laugh, “You have answered your own question. God doesn’t deprive of his heavenly kingdom sinners who do not repent. They themselves simply can not bear its light--any more than you can bear the light of the sun.”

The judgment of Jesus, therefore, is not capricious and arbitrary. It is based upon the example of his own life. Through his life the light of God’s understanding of righteousness is clearly shining forth, and each and every one of us can claim only so much tolerance in catching a glimpse of it. We just cannot bear it all. Because of our own intolerance of God’s light, we tend to withdraw into our own individual darkness. We then find ourselves alone, alienated from God, as well as from each other. We behave like Rabbi Barukh’s grandson who was once playing hide-and-go-seek with another little boy. His hid himself well and waited for his playmate to find him. When he waited for a long time, he then came out of his hiding place, but the other boy was nowhere to be seen. He then realized that from the very beginning his friend had not been looking for him. Now crying, he ran to his grandfather complaining of his friend’s unfaithfulness. To this his grandfather responded, “How much this is like the way we treat God! We hide from God and then become upset when it seems that God does not come looking for us!”

The old rabbi was correct. But the truth goes further than even this. If we truly want to find God, God is all about us. God is especially in our neighbor in need. It is very much like two seminary students in New York City when they were leaving class. There in front of them laid an entirely unpleasant drunk face down in the gutter. One of the students held his nose as he hastened past the drunk. The other student stooped down and assisted the fallen man to his feet. When the drunk inquired as to why he lowered himself to help, the student replied, “The only difference between you and me, brother, is that right now your sins are showing more than mine.”

If we believe today’s gospel, this student found God in the drunk lying face down in the gutter. But not only had he discovered God, he discovered himself, and this is what judgment is all about. Judgment is knowing the truth about ourselves from which we are hiding, as well as the wonders of God’s own love and mercy.

Today is Christ the King Sunday. On this day Christ gives us just a little whiff of himself. May we be able to savor him like a fine perfume. May we come to know the rightness of his judgment and the wonders of his love. Indeed, may this small whiff grow into a full-blown hunger—a hunger that can only be satisfied as we come to this altar by eating his body and drinking his blood. For in so doing, we experience the fullness of his presence—within and without. It will fulfill for now our cravings for his presence—cravings that will take into the world to find Christ in those less fortunate than us.