If only we had known!
Sermon for the Last Sunday after Pentecost, Christ the King (November 26, 2023) at St. James’ Episcopal Church in Hyde Park, NY. A video of the entire worship service is available here.
What are we talking about? View the scripture readings and the Collect of the Day: Proper 29, Year A
This sermon includes a story about a time I put my feet up… but maybe I shouldn’t have.
Listen:
Like what you hear? You can subscribe to the podcast on Apple Podcasts or Spotify.
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.’ Matthew 25:37-40
Edited Transcript
May only truth be spoken here and only truth be heard. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Please be seated.
Alright, so this morning I'm going to tell a story and I need to get a prop.
Now, I will tell you that when the Holy Spirit suggested to me that I tell you this story, I was like, oh no, because it doesn't make me look good. So I'm just going to give you a warning about that. Okay? I'm going to tell on myself.
This is probably eleven or twelve years ago now. I was working for Episcopal Charities down in New York. It was probably a summer Friday, I can't remember for sure, but for whatever reason, there was a very relaxed atmosphere around the office. My boss wasn't there. It was just like me and one of our interns. And so we were sitting around and I had my feet up on my desk.
And we were relaxing, and someone came to the door. The door was open to the office. He was a black man, probably in his late sixties, little bit of stubble on his face, and I looked at him, with my feet up on my desk, and I said, Hey, how's it going? What can we do for you? Just like that.
And he said, Hi, I'm so-and-so. I'm the president of the Standing Committee of the Diocese.
And I stood up and I said, Welcome to Episcopal Charities, sir. What can we do for you?
It really pains me to tell that story because there's my own unconscious racism, ageism, maybe... There were so many factors in there that led me to keep my feet up. I wouldn't have done that if the bishop walked in or if my boss walked in! But I kind of clocked this gentleman and I said... I'm just going to relax and keep doing what I was doing.
The story that Jesus tells us today about this King who says, I was sick, I was hungry, I was thirsty, I was in prison... It's about whether or not we recognize Jesus in places where we aren't looking for him. And how we act—and how we might act differently—if we recognized every person who walked into the room we're in or comes across our path as an incarnation of the love of God?
We would probably sit up straight and say, Welcome! What can I do for you?
Remember that parable from earlier this month, about the bridesmaids? And what does Jesus say at the end? Keep awake! Keep awake, keep looking out: because it's so easy to sit down and put your feet up and not recognize when you're in the presence of God... not notice that royalty has just walked into the room. You have to keep awake!
We are in the final Sunday of the long season after Pentecost, and next week will be the First Sunday of Advent. So it's our new year, our Christian new beginning! The season of Advent: Advent means "come."
In one way, this season is all about the preparation of our hearts and our selves for the incarnation of God in Jesus at Christmas. We tend to remember this part of what Advent is about, because in our outside-of-church lives, we're getting ready for Christmas.
But Advent is also about getting ready to welcome Christ when he comes again in glory. Which is something we say every Sunday in the Creed, something we sing about and sometimes talk about... but that we do forget about.
All through Advent, we're preparing not just for something that happened two thousand years ago, but for something that we are still expecting and maybe something that in some mysterious way is actually already happening all the time.
All through the season of Advent we practice looking for Christ, waiting for Jesus to come into our lives.
And the question is, when Jesus shows up in the doorway, am I going to be sitting there with my feet up cracking jokes or am I going to stand up with respect and delight because I am in the presence of the divine?!
And don't get me wrong, I love sitting around with my feet up and cracking jokes, and there's nothing sinful about that at all. It is just that we are exhorted to keep awake. Our Baptismal Covenant says, we promise to respect the dignity of every human being; to seek and serve Christ in all persons. Those of you who just were received into the Episcopal Church will remember saying these vows before the bishop and we all joined you in saying those vows!
The Feast of Christ the King is kind of a new holiday. A lot of our holidays go back millennia, but the Feast of Christ, the king was established by Pope Pius XI after World War I. He specifically wanted the Feast of Christ the King to stand in contrast to the nationalism that characterized most of the world at that time, in the wake of this terrible war.
And he was right! Because even though there was peace when he declared this feast, we know from history that it didn't last long. And the way things fell out after World War I and World War II... We're still seeing the effects and we're still enduring the war. So in a way it hasn't ended.
What Pope Pius XI wanted was for the Feast of Christ the King to unite all Christians. So that whatever side of a border they were on, they would see themselves as answering to and responsible to not their own government, but to Christ. So the ultimate authority in our lives is not the nation to which we belong, but it's God! And specifically for Christians, God who came into the world in a human body to share our lives and to show us what love looks like.
That's our authority, and that's what the feast of Christ the King is about.
And if we could recognize Christ in one another, then we might know more of what peace looks like.
When we look at this parable, the king is dividing people. The ones who recognized me are over here, and the ones who didn't are here. But most of us are going to sometimes in our lives be on this side and sometimes in our lives be on the other side. Sometimes we serve Christ, and sometimes we fail to do it.
This is why it's so painful for me to tell that story, because I recognize myself having been on that side where I didn't see the face of Christ in that person. I kind of wrote them off as not that important, but they were important to God—regardless of their position in my organizational hierarchy. They were important to God.
It's painful to look on our lives and say there are times when we knew Christ and times when we failed to see Christ.
All of us are going to be on one side or the other. So the invitation of Christ the King is to recognize first of all, that the people in that parable, they all say, well, if we only knew, gee, if we'd known we would've done such and such, we would've helped you. If only we had known!
So our invitation is to remember that we might not know. Or maybe even that there is no distinction! But that instead, we're called to treat every single person as though they were Jesus as though they were the person we've given our lives to and promised to follow. So that we won't miss a chance.
Instead of looking at who's on this side of whatever line I've drawn, as our Collect (prayer) of the Day says, "the barriers that divide us..." We get to see that on both sides of the barrier, no matter what, this is a face of God that has come into our presence.
Our invitation and our gift, really, is to have the chance to stand up and to say, I see you. Welcome. To offer what we have to offer at that time to the face of God, in everyone we meet. Amen.