"The Least of These"

[Our lessons today were Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24, Psalm 100, Ephesians 1:15-23, and Matthew 25:31-46.]

We end the Pentecost season and the church year this weekend with the Feast of Christ the King. We remind ourselves that while we are citizens of an earthly country, Jesus, the King of kings and Lord of lords, is the one, as St. Paul says, under whose feet all things are put in subjection.

As was true the last two weeks, our Gospel reading looks toward the Second Coming. Immediately after Jesus tells the parable of the talents that we heard last week, he continues with a story of God’s judgment. But those who are rewarded are not the heroes and martyrs. The reward goes to people who did the ordinary things: they fed the hungry, gave the thirsty something to drink, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, cared for the sick and visited the prisoners.

And those whom God judges as guilty are those who failed to do those things. They gave no food to the hungry nor drink to the thirsty, they shunned the stranger, gave the naked nothing to wear, didn’t care for the sick or visit the prisoner.

Why are these things so important? It’s because when we choose to serve or reject people—all of whom are created in God’s image—we are choosing to serve or reject Jesus himself! As he warns us, “Just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”

Usually when we think of Jesus, we have a particular mental picture. When we think of a king, we have our own thought of what a king should look like. The story is told that some years ago, an American soldier on a bus in Sweden told the man sitting next to him, “America is the most democratic country in the world. Ordinary citizens may go to the White House to see the President and discuss things with him.” The man said, “That's nothing. In Sweden, the King and the people travel on the same bus.” When the man got off the bus at the next stop, the American was told by other passengers that he had been sitting next to King Gustav Adolf VI. Sometimes, appearances are deceiving.

When we think of what our King should look like, do we get it all wrong? When we see (and pass on by) a hungry person who is homeless, do we say, “That isn’t the king; a king would wear a crown.” When we see someone cold and shivering from wearing inadequate clothing, do we say, “That isn’t the king; a king would have warm robes.” When we hear of someone who is sick and alone, do we say, “That isn’t the king; a king would have his court to serve him.” When we see a stranger, a person different from us, do we say, “That isn’t the king; a king would look like us.” When we hear of a prisoner, do we say, “That isn’t the king; a king would never be a criminal who is sent to prison.”

What does our King really look like? He look likes a man—hungry and thirsty; a woman—who has no home; a child—sick and abandoned. What can we do for him, for the “least of these”?

At St. Christopher’s, some of the things we do at the end of the year are for the “least of these.” When we, in our shoebox ministry, create Christmas presents for battered women and children who have been forced to flee their homes, we are doing that to Jesus. When, through Perry Volunteer Outreach, we collect cans of green beans for the hungry, we are feeding Jesus. When we support the Appleton Family Ministries as they provide an after-school program for at-risk children and a mentoring program for their parents, we are doing that to Jesus.

A few years ago, I read a book, The Least of These: Fair Taxes and the Moral Duty of Christians, by Susan Pace Hamill, a law professor at my alma mater, Alabama, who looked at the tax system in Alabama from the perspective of how it serve the “least of these.” Her conclusion was that a tax structure was unjust if either the burden for paying taxes oppressively falls on the poor or if it fails to raise adequate revenues to provide everyone in the community, especially the poor, minimum safety nets and a minimum opportunity to improve their lives.

Our responsibility toward the “least of these” isn’t satisfied only in our church. We are called upon to support these values in our public life as well. If we, through our church, make shoeboxes to bring light to the lives of a few women and children, but oppose policies which help protect women and children in our state and nation, are we doing enough? If we, through our church, provide green beans to feed the poor in Perry, but oppose policies designed to reduce extreme poverty worldwide, are we doing enough? If we, through our church, support at risk children in middle Georgia, but oppose policies designed to improve educational opportunities for all, are we doing enough?

God doesn’t call us to do more than He has equipped us to do. But He does require us to do as much as He has equipped us to do.