[Pentecost+13] "to love another person is to see the face of God"

When the Daughter of Eve comes in her glory, and all the angels with her, then she will sit on the throne of her glory. All the nations will be gathered before her, and she will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and she will put the sheep at her left hand and the goats at the right.

Then the queen will say to those at her left hand, "Come, you that are blessed by my Mother, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; 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, 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."

Then the righteous will answer her, "Lady, 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 queen 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."

Then she will say to those at her right hand, "You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and her angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 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."

Then they also will answer, "Lady, 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?"

Then she 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."

And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.

Matthew 25:31-46 (NRSV, alt.)

What did reading this passage bring up for you?

At Bible study on Tuesday, Jamie* said she hadn't necessarily expected my re-gendering** the passage to have much of an impact, but that in listening to it, she was reminded of the many attacks on women's bodies recently -- restrictive and invasive abortion laws, etc. (It occurred to me later that of course "women's bodies" is something of a misnomer in this case, as not everyone who needs access to safe abortions or has other concerns relating to having a vagina/uterus identifies as a woman.)

* nota bene: In the interest of maintaining a safe space for participants, when blogging I won't attach names to any comments shared during Bible study without explicit permission.

** I also swapped left and right in the passage (see discussion of "sinister").

I was (am) really interested in the project of representing Jesus in genders other than the one we usually think of Jesus has having, but I was very much thinking of the enthroned Jesus (see my Rule63!Jesus Pinterest board) -- which probably says more about me than anything else.

I said in my invitational email that many of us hearing this passage last Sunday were relatively comfortable people, for whom Jesus' position among those in need of clothing, shelter, food, medical care, and/or companionship in prison, puts Jesus amidst those who are NOT like us.

I think expanding the imagery we have of Jesus can be one step along enabling us to recognize Jesus in unexpected places. (Which is one ground from which I can defend my Rule 63 project -- not that I need to defend it; and really, the Jesus who walked the Earth likely didn't look the way you imagine Jesus either. On the topic of seeing people in ways we might not usually, at Bible study on Tuesday, Jamie mentioned the recent Huffington Post article on Nir Arieli's portrait series "Men," which places men in traditionally feminine spaces and postures -- if you'd like to experiment further with ways to image Jesus.)

Patheos blogger Carl Gregg says:

Jesus seems to be promising — to those of us born centuries too late to meet the historical Jesus in person — that the closest we can come to a transformative face-to-face encounter with Jesus is to aid and be fully present to poor and marginalized.

Let's say that again -- the closest we can come to a transformative face-to-face encounter with Jesus is to aid and be fully present to the poor and marginalized.

It was not unintentional that my Rule63!Jesi are women of color. If I'd been really thinking this through, I might have curated a collection of trans women of color. Our activism often fails to be intersectional -- see for example "Why Feminists Should Care About the Baby Veronica Case" -- and I want to really expand our definition of the places where Jesus dwells and to be attentive to them.

This morning, I ReTweeted Laverne Cox, trans woman of color and actress on the Netflix series Orange is the New Black, quoting Cornel West's "Justice is what love looks like out in public" and asking, "Can we extend the empathy we have for the women of [Orange is the New Black] to real folks in prison"

One of the commentaries I looked at (Matthew Henry's Commentary on the Whole Bible, from the early 1700s) when I prepped for Bible study when we had this passage in June notes:

[Jesus] doth not say, "I was hungry and thirsty, for you took my meat and drink from me; I was a stranger, for you banished me; naked, for you stripped me; in prison, for you laid me there:" but, "When I was in these distresses, you were so selfish, so taken up with your own ease and pleasure, made so much of your labour, and were so loth to part with your money, that you did not minister as you might have done to my relief and succour. You were like those epicures that were at ease in Zion, and were not grieved for the affliction of Joseph," Amos vi. 4-6.

There is psychological research that we think of sins of omission as being less bad than sins of commission, but clearly Jesus disagrees. We may feel better about ourselves that we are merely complicit in systems of oppression rather than actively and maliciously working to oppress people, but Jesus says, "If you see members of my family -- and that's everyone, btw -- suffering and you don't do anything about it, it's as if you turned away from me personally and left me to suffer and die."

That Jesus Christ loves us so much that when we suffer, Jesus suffers as if She were the one hungry/thirsty/cold/imprisoned/starving/beaten/abused/trafficked/deported, is really touching to me. But it's also frightening when extended to the rest of the human race -- to know that when we are complicit in the abuse of oppression of other people, we are complicit in the abuse of the Body of Christ.

If we believe Jesus when Jesus says, "Whatever you did (not do) for the least of these, you did (not do) for me," then we need to really see Jesus in the people we encounter.

When we talked about this passage in Bible study in late June, we talked about the issue of how to deal with people who ask us for money on the street (a topic which had come up in Bible study for a number of weeks -- clearly pressing on us in our urban context).

What about when someone asks you for money for bus fare and you give them the money you were planning to use to buy yourself breakfast and they walk across the street and buy cigarettes?

What about when a charmer jokes with you and you give him some food and then an aggressive woman comes up to you and demands to be given something, too?

Do we excuse this by saying that if it were truly Jesus, He (She) (Ze) would budget wisely and use the money to buy optimally nutritious food? (And certainly wouldn't ask for money under false pretenses!)

Do we insist that while Jesus was sometimes obnoxious, Jesus would never be THAT bad?

I'm certainly not saying that all behavior is of God, but if we use these excuses to distance ourselves from this passage, to say that THESE people are not Christ, we are denying the reality each of them is a beloved child of God, a vulnerable and hurting soul whom God loves just as much as Ze loves each one of us.

Back in January 2011, Molly made a blog post titled "Your Victory is My Victory." In it, she talked about (among other things) panhandlers, and I think of the comment thread she and I had on that post as the beginning of my custom of giving money to panhandlers I pass (though now that I'm bicycling as my primary mode of transportation, I've gotten out of the habit of carrying small bills on me for that purpose).

Molly said:

I remember a talk I had with Mary Luti, one of my mentors in ministry who I adore--she said we basically get off our spiritual high horse when it comes to panhandlers--consider that yes, while they might go by mouthwash or booze or drugs with 'our' funds, they might also be buying flowers or going to the movies; that these are the privileges that make us feel beautiful, autonomous, human again.

[That comment thread also includes the idea that the money isn't ours to begin with -- it's God's, we're just stewards (similar to the "We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children" quotation attributed to Chief Seattle).]

One of the commentaries I read (B.W. Johnson in 1891) in preparing for Bible study in June quotes Chrysostom:

[Jesus] said not I was sick and ye healed me; or in prison and ye set me free; but ye visited me and came unto me.

We are not asked to do more than we are able.

However, Johnson goes on to remind us that, "A real, personal service of Christ is implied, one involving some sacrifice of ease, time and property."

I mentioned in June that Molly's telling of the story of the Tinker King seemed fitting since this passage is usually read on Christ the King Sunday (at least in Year A) -- the last Sunday before Advent, as our Christian liturgical year ends and we begin the season of actively anticipating the inbreaking of God's Incarnation... of the God who created all that is, taking on this sack of flesh and dwelling amongst us in dirt and blood.

In the Tinker King sermon, Molly asked how we think we could recognize Jesus.

One blogger/preacher, offering Comrade as an alternative image to Christ the King, said:

So as this Christian year ends, excuse me if I don't get too excited about your Imperial Christ the King, I am only four Advent weeks away from the Crib and I can smell the straw and the dung. That's where my Comrade calls me to be.

Carl Gregg says, "The day-to-day practice of compassion and of love toward your neighbors (all your neighbors!) is much more important and difficult than simply believing a creed or a set of doctrines."

He tells a parable he has seen in various forms, about a dying monastery. The abbot visits a hermit for advice and the hermit says, "I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you." The story concludes:

As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that one among them might be the Messiah. And on the off, off chance that each monk himself might be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.

Because the forest in which it was situated was beautiful, it so happened that people still occasionally came to visit the monastery to picnic on its tiny lawn, to wander along some of its paths, even now and then to go into the dilapidated chapel to meditate. As they did so, without even being conscious of it, they sensed the aura of extraordinary respect that now began to surround the five old monks and seemed to radiate out from them and permeate the atmosphere of the place. There was something strangely attractive, even compelling, about it. Hardly knowing why, they began to come back to the monastery more frequently to picnic, to play, to pray. They began to bring their friends to show them this special place. And their friends brought their friends.

Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And another. So within a few years the monastery had once again become a thriving order and, thanks to the hermit’s gift, a vibrant center of light and spirituality in the realm.

Perhaps even if you can't care for those on the streets and in prisons, you can care just a little more for your family, friends, coworkers, parishioners, and yourself.

I challenge you this week to recognize Jesus in each and every person you encounter -- including yourself.

***

And as always, you're invited to continue the conversation in the comments (anonymously/pseudonymously if you prefer).