Scriptures: Ezekiel
34:11-16, 20-24;
Ephesians 1:15-23 Matthew
25:31-46
Eyes
Over the past three weeks, we’ve heard Jesus describe the
reign of God in three parables. In the
first parable, we heard about the five bridesmaids who brought extra oil for
their wait for the bridegroom and the five who didn’t, and how these latter
were shut out from the wedding feast.
Last week, we heard the parable of the talents, in which the servant who
did nothing with the money entrusted to him incurred the wrath of his
master. And now we have what is commonly
called the parable of the sheep and the goats, or as it is also called, the
judgment of the nations. In this case,
the nations meaning the Gentiles, those who were not part of the chosen people
of Israel. These would be judged
according to whether they helped those in need or whether they didn’t – for in
so doing, or not doing, they served, or didn’t serve, Jesus.
The Revised Common Lectionary, which we along with many
other churches follow, spreads these parables over three weeks. Because of this, I think we miss the fact
that all three parables were taught by Jesus in one teaching session. That is to say, we tend to see them as three
unrelated parables, but I believe Jesus intended them to be seen together, to
be seen as three different angles from which to understand the reign of God. All are said to be describing the kingdom of
God or the reign of God. And we have
three related ideas. First, we have the need to have a faith that is prepared
to go the distance, even if the bridegroom is delayed – that was the parable of
the bridesmaids from two weeks ago. Then
we have the parable of the talents from last week, in which all the master’s
servants are entrusted with gifts, which were intended to be used, not buried
or hoarded. And today we have the
parable of the sheep and the goats, a picture of the judgment of the nations,
which tells us how God’s gifts are to be used – not for ourselves, but to care
for the least of these.
The word of the Lord came to me: Mortal, prophesy against the shepherds of Israel: prophesy, and say to them—to the shepherds: Thus says the Lord God: Ah, you shepherds of Israel who have been feeding yourselves! Should not shepherds feed the sheep? You eat the fat, you clothe yourselves with the wool, you slaughter the fatlings; but you do not feed the sheep. You have not strengthened the weak, you have not healed the sick, you have not bound up the injured, you have not brought back the strayed, you have not sought the lost, but with force and harshness you have ruled them. So they were scattered, because there was no shepherd; and scattered, they became food for all the wild animals. My sheep were scattered, they wandered over all the mountains and on every high hill; my sheep were scattered over all the face of the earth, with no one to search or seek for them.
Therefore, you shepherds, hear the word of the Lord: As I live, says the Lord God, because my sheep have become a prey, and my sheep have become food for all the wild animals, since there was no shepherd; and because my shepherds have not searched for my sheep, but the shepherds have fed themselves, and have not fed my sheep; therefore, you shepherds, hear the word of the Lord: Thus says the Lord God, I am against the shepherds; and I will demand my sheep at their hand, and put a stop to their feeding the sheep; no longer shall the shepherds feed themselves. I will rescue my sheep from their mouths, so that they may not be food for them.
Basically, the master fires the shepherds and goes out
himself in search of the sheep – the spirit of the passage is, “if these clowns
can’t or won’t do their jobs, I guess I’ll just have to do it myself.”
In the context in which Ezekiel was written, the term
“shepherds” would have referred to the religious establishment of the time, the
Temple priesthood, who literally fattened themselves on the sacrifices and
offerings of the people, but did little or nothing to care for them. The word “pastor” means shepherd, and indeed
pastors, priests, rabbis, imams, religious leaders in general will be held to a
higher standard and judged more harshly when we fail in our responsibilities –
and none of us always gets it right. As pastor, one of my responsibilities, besides
making sure that the word is rightly taught and the sacraments rightly
administered, is to care for the flock,
for the congregation, for you, to keep the congregation together and protect
it, to drive away anything that would harm or threaten the congregation. And we’ve all read in the newspapers about
those shepherds who don’t care for the sheep or fatten themselves on the sheep
or prey on the sheep or drive the sheep away – the many religious leaders, not
only Catholic priests, who prey on children, the televangelists whose
often-impoverished supporters scrape together small donations - $5, $10 - at
great sacrifice to send to the TV preachers, who spend them on luxury home and
cars and such. And for every horror
story that hits the papers, there are countless stories that don’t. Of course, on the other hand, for every
horror story that hits the papers, there are also countless more stories about
faithful religious leaders who carry out their duties without ever making the
newspapers - and that’s as it should be.
So Ezekiel denounces the bad shepherds –but then he moves
beyond the bad shepherds to go after the fat sheep. He sees that some sheep are fat, having gobbled
up more of their share of the food and driven the weaker sheep away so they
can’t eat. This happens, in part,
because the shepherds have been out to lunch, not keeping an eye on things, and
so the sheep compete among themselves for what’s available. The master wants to make sure all are fed,
and so he comes down hard on the fat sheep, who, having fattened themselves,
are slaughtered, so that the hungry sheep at last can get their fair
share. And so, says Ezekiel, God will
judge between sheep and sheep.
Where do we find ourselves in the story? Hint:
Not as the king or the master or the Son of Man – that’s God’s place in
the story. Probably not as one of the
shepherds in the Ezekiel story, although to the extent that we have
responsibility for others – as parents, as teachers – we are shepherds with a
flock to care for. But I think we can
certainly find ourselves among the sheep in the reading from Ezekiel, or
somewhere amidst the sheep and goats in Jesus’ parable.
We live in an era of unimaginably bloated fat sheep and unimaginably
thin, starving sheep, right here in America.
The Walton family, owners of Walmart, six people in all – their names
are Christy Walton, Jim Walton, Alice Walton, S. Robson Walton, Ann Walton
Kroenke, and Nancy Walton Laurie - have wealth roughly equal to the poorest 40%
of Americans combined. Many, perhaps most Walmart employees are on
food stamps, even though they work, because their wages are so low – behind
those low, low prices, guaranteed are low, low wages, unfortunately also
guaranteed. In effect, our tax dollars are subsidizing
the unimaginably wealthy Walton family, our taxes paying their workers the
money the Waltons are unwilling to pay.
Moreover, according to Oxfam, a global charity which works against world
hunger, the 85 wealthiest people on the planet own more assets than the poorest
half of the human race combined. The disparity in wealth between the top 1%
of the top 1% - that’s the top 0.01% - and the rest of us is on a scale that’s
almost unimaginable. And today’s
Scripture readings tell us that God is sorely displeased by this situation. It’s not only unfortunate, not only
undesirable – it’s Satanic, evil, as in straight from the pit of hell evil. I don’t
use language like that very often, but in describing our society’s level of economic
and social injustice, it’s appropriate. The
powers that be, meanwhile, have society set up so that the rest of us are in fierce
competition with one another, so that we’re resentful at someone scraping by on
disability or public assistance because they may qualify for some scraps of publicly
funded health care or food or housing, resentful at undocumented immigrants –
most of whom work at jobs many of us wouldn’t want, such as day labor jobs
picking fruit and doing the grunt work of landscaping at business office
complexes - and pay taxes, by the way – for wanting some tiny piece of the
American dream, if not for themselves, for their children, resentful at people
of different races – who don’t look like us and don’t talk like us – because
they want the same things we want. Those at the top, the powers that be, have us
at one another’s throats fighting over crumbs.
By keeping those with little or nothing divided against one another, at
one another’s throats, seeing one another as enemies rather than potential
allies, they keep us from asking questions of those at the very top. And those questions need to be asked, are
long overdue to be asked. Archbishop
Desmond Tutu, who worked for freedom in apartheid South Africa, said that “If
you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.
If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse, and you say that you are
neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.” And
so, Ezekiel says truly, God will indeed judge between sheep and sheep, and will
feed the fat sheep with justice.
God’s promised judgment – and it is promised, by the way,
promised in the Old and New Testaments – God’s promised judgment on the fabulously
wealthy does not leave us, the unfabulously unwealthy, off the hook. The earliest believers were mostly from the
bottom of their society – as Paul says in I Corinthians, “for consider your
calling, brothers and sisters; not many worldly-wise, not many wealthy, not
many noble” – that is to say, not many of society’s movers and shakers. That’s the way it is overseas, where, for
instance, in India, where most Christians are from the Dalit caste, formerly
known as the untouchables, rather than the Brahmans. Christianity is good news for all, but
especially it is good news for the poor.
Remember Jesus’ mission statement as recorded in Luke 4, which is
basically a quote from Isaiah 61: “The
Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim
release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the
oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” And certainly, here at Emanuel, we all fit
into the category of “not worldly-wise, not wealthy, not powerful”. Last I checked the church rolls – and before
coming here today, I checked the membership rolls very carefully indeed,
several times, in fact - I found nobody
named Walton – nor Sheldon Adelson, nor either of the Koch brothers, neither Charles
nor David Koch. We here at Emanuel are
not the movers and shakers; indeed, many of us are, at least in worldly terms,
the moved and the shaken.
Even so, even though the earliest believers were for the
most part poor, these earliest believers were expected to share what they had,
be it ever so little. The early chapters
of Acts told of these earliest believers selling what little they had – houses,
fields – so that the proceeds could be shared around with the poor. Later on in Paul’s letters, we read about Paul
taking up collections in various parts of Greece for the believers in Jerusalem
– and we’re told that the people gave sacrificially, generously, and gladly. It
sounds too good to be true – and certainly is hard to imagine in our
context. But there are modern-day
examples: in Latin America, in
impoverished areas, Roman Catholic believers have formed into what are called
Christian base communities. Often these
Christian base communities are located in areas far from established parishes,
areas where Catholics couldn’t just walk or drive to church, and where the
established churches never bother to send their clergy. Instead, these community form around trained
lay leaders. While people in this
community are desperately poor by our standards, all they have, what little
they have, is shared around the community, for the benefit of all. It’s not a matter only of charity, but of
solidarity, being there for one another, day in and day out, so that what
benefits one member benefits the entire community, and so that an attack on one
member of the community is an attack on all.
Often these communities are characterized by a powerful commitment to giving,
serving, and non-violence. Clearly, our circumstances here are very
different. But I’d encourage us consider
working toward that level of commitment to one another, so that we can support
one another and be stronger in supporting our community.
It sounds like pie in the sky. Why
all this talk about solidarity, about caring for one another so much that your welfare
is inseparable from mine and mine from yours? Only this – it’s the kind of
solidarity that Jesus not only commanded, but lived. Jesus describes himself as a king who is so
close to his people that, according to Jesus’ parable, to help one of the least
of these is to help him. Not to help
them is not to help him. To hurt them is
to hurt him. There’s no daylight between
Jesus and those he calls “the least of these my sisters and brothers.” Jesus didn’t just talk about feeding the
poor; he fed them. He didn’t just talk
about healing the sick; he healed them.
He didn’t just talk about releasing those in bondage; he released
them. Jesus identified with us so fully
that it led him to the cross. In the
same way, Jesus asks us to identify fully with him, by identifying fully with
those he served, the poorest, the last, the least, and the lost.
In his letter to the church at Ephesus, Paul used a striking
phrase. Paul writes, “I pray that the
God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of
wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the
eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which
he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the
saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe,
according to the working of his great power.”
What an odd phrase, “the eyes of your heart.” Of course, we know that from a physical
standpoint, our eyes are in our head, and our hearts are in our chests, the
twain never to meet. But Paul is asking
us to see, not only with the eyes in our heads, but with the eyes of our heart,
the eyes of faith, the eyes of compassion.
Our eyes cannot truly see without hearts of faith and compassion, and
our faith and compassion needs our eyes, our vision, in order to direct them to
the proper recipients. And it takes eyes
of faith, eyes of compassion, the eyes of the heart to look at our society’s
greed and violence, and know that somewhere in all of that, we may know the
hope to which God has called us, the riches of his glorious inheritance among
us, and the immeasurable greatness of his power for us.
May God enlighten the eyes of our hearts, so that we can see
Jesus in the faces of the hungry and the hurting, the sick and the
imprisoned. May God enlighten the eyes
of our hearts, showing us ways in which we can serve Jesus by serving our
sisters and brothers in need. May God
enlighten the eyes of our hearts, so that we may see the great love God has for
each of us, and share that love with all we meet. Amen.
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