Matthew 25:31-46
The children in the preschool Sunday School class were drawing pictures of Bible characters. The teacher walked around the table, admiring their work and asking the children whom they were drawing. One little boy told her, “I’m drawing a picture of God.” The teacher replied, “But no one knows what God looks like.” “They will now,” said the little boy.
Did you ever wonder what God looks like? It’s one of those mysteries of faith. Some people picture God as an old man, like somebody’s grandfather, with long white hair and a beard, kind of like Santa Claus in a white choir robe. Other people picture God as a spirit of some kind. The Old Testament is not much help. When God revealed himself to people, it was never in human form. He appeared to Moses as a bush that didn’t burn up. He appeared to the Hebrew people after the Exodus as a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of cloud by night. Over time, Jews came to believe that it was impossible to see God’s face.
For Christians, we believe that God was most fully revealed through Jesus. Finally, a flesh and bone character, someone who was seen and heard and touched. But then again, what did Jesus look like? There are no photographs of him. I’ve seen so many different pictures of Jesus over my lifetime. In my Bible I got when I moved up into the junior department in Sunday School, there are pictures of Jesus showing a man with long, wavy, very light brown hair, fine features, and perfectly manicured hands and feet. The associate minister at my church when I was in high school had a picture called, “Laughing Jesus,” which showed a man who was rugged, with short, thick, dark hair, a five o’clock shadow, rough looking clothing, and large, strong hands. I have an old Sunday School picture of Jesus holding a little girl, about toddler age. He is wearing clean but worn clothing, has a tenderness about his eyes and a strength in his hands. I bought a sketch of Jesus at the gift shop in the Washington Cathedral that hangs on the wall of my office now. It shows a young man, obviously Middle Eastern, holding a little lamb in his arms. I have all these pictures, and more, and yet I still wonder, What does Jesus look like?
In this disturbing, uncomfortable passage from Matthew 25, we are told a truth that we aren’t sure we understand and aren’t sure we really want to hear. Jesus tells us plainly what he looks like so that we will know him when we see him. Listen to this list:
I was hungry
I was thirsty
I was a stranger
I was naked
I was sick
I was in prison
Wait a minute. This is Jesus we’re talking about, isn’t it? The same guy who is the Son of God? The first man raised from the dead never to die again? The Word who was present with God at the creation? The one who walked across water, cast out demons, altered the laws of nature with a word, that Jesus? Yep, he’s the one, alright. No wonder so many people miss seeing him. They aren’t looking in the right places.
Think about some of the hungry people who have crossed your path. The hitchhiker holding up a battered cardboard sign that says, Will work for food. The people lined up in the door of the soup kitchen every day at 11:00. The children of Rwanda, whose pictures line the advertisements of Save the Children and the evening news. The people who rummage in garbage dumpsters behind restaurants. And Jesus says when we see these people, we see him.
And what about the people who are thirsty? Some of those faces may be as near as the west coast or the south, where wildfires and hurricanes may limit people’s access to clean drinking water. There may be people in our country, even in our state, who don’t have running water in their homes, who can’t just turn on the spigot and wait for safe water to come out. And there are the people in other countries who have to walk miles every day just to find water, which is not always even clean water. And Jesus says when we see these people, we see him.
We might think about people who are strangers, maybe people who are homeless or drifters. They may stay in a shelter for a day or two. And there are the people who huddle over exhaust vents on city streets to try and stay warm. There are people pushing everything they own in a grocery cart. They may be the people knocking on the church door asking for money to help pay their rent or gas bill. People wearing dirty clothes. People shivering in the cold without warm coats. People we don’t know, people we don’t want to know. And Jesus says when we see these people, we see him.
What about people who are sick? They are Jesus, too. That means that everyone with COVID-19, or cancer, or tuberculosis, or AIDS is Jesus. Mother Teresa started her mission to the dying in Calcutta many years ago and continued to reach out with love to the many victims of AIDS who wound up there. In a U.S. news magazine, she was quoted as saying, “Each one of them is Jesus in a distressing new disguise.” The same could be seen for the victims of the pandemic. Jesus says that when we see these people, we see him.
But surely Jesus doesn’t expect us to see him as a prisoner? How do we picture prisoners? What about those men and women on death row? In Jesus’ day, everyone in prison was on death row. Criminals were not sent to jail for their crimes. Their punishment was given to them immediately after their trial, whether by being beaten or by making restitution. Men in prison were there because they had been sentenced to death and were waiting to be executed. And Jesus had the audacity to say that when we see these people, we see him.
So what are we supposed to be doing about it? What are we supposed to be doing in our world, right here, right now, in 2020 during a pandemic? The same things that Jesus commanded us to do over 2,000 years ago. When we see someone who is hungry, we are supposed to feed them. When we see someone who is thirsty, we are supposed to give them something to drink. When we see someone who is a stranger or needing clothes, we are supposed to take them in and give them something to wear. When we see someone who is sick, we are supposed to take care of them. And when we see someone in prison, we are supposed to visit them. Because when we do it for the least of our brothers and sisters, we do it for Jesus.
As Methodists, this should not come as a surprise. John Wesley set an example in all of these areas from the beginning of the movement. He believed that a person’s inward holiness must be expressed in outward holiness, through works of mercy. Poverty was widespread in 18th-century England, with a great gap between the rich and the poor. Wesley worked among the poor and tried to give them a sense of self-worth. He ate and slept with them. He leased homes for homeless widows and children. And he gave away most of the money he earned. His Methodist societies would take up collections of cash, food, and clothing to be distributed among the poor.
Likewise, John Wesley had a genuine concern for the sick. He organized teams of visitors in London, with guidelines about how to perform their duties. They were to visit in the homes three times a week and offer to do anything they could do for the person. Wesley also published a book of advice on health and cures, especially for those with no access to medical care because of poverty. It included remedies for the most common injuries and illnesses and was reprinted a number of times. Methodists also ran free clinics for a time in London, Bristol, and Newcastle.
Early Methodists followed Wesley’s example of reaching out to prisoners, as well. The English legal system was harsh and punishment of the poor was particularly severe. People were often held for a long time just awaiting trial in filthy, unsanitary conditions. The death penalty was mandated for small offenses, such as poaching and stealing clothing. Methodists visited those in prison, read the Bible to them, prayed with them, provided them with food and clothing. They even rode in the carts with them to the gallows if they were facing execution. Wesley was quite concerned with the inhumane conditions of prisons and unequal standards of justice.
It would seem to me that we in 21st century America have a lot we could be doing for the least of our brothers and sisters, and for Jesus Christ. What about the hungry and thirsty? Because of the pandemic, many Americans are out of work or have had to take jobs paying a much lower salary. There are greater demands on food pantries than ever before. We can certainly help provide food for hungry families, by donating food or money to local or state agencies. Next Sunday is Thanksgiving Sunday, and I would love to see the altar filled with food items to be given to our local food pantries. Please bring some canned goods or other imperishable food items next week and place them on the table or in front of the table before worship. We will make sure they get to the people who need them.
And what about those who are homeless or needing clothing? I have read more than one article in the paper in the past weeks about homeless people being kicked off public property in NH, but there seem to be no plans for what to do with them when they leave. The shelters are full, temporary housing is unavailable. And winter is coming. So what are they going to do? And how could we help? We might consider finding a shelter or other organization to donate money to so that more people could be taken care of.
We have so many who are sick with COVID-19. We certainly pray for them every day, but we could also be in touch with their families to offer help and support. It is incredibly hard for people to be separated from their families and trying to fight off such a serious disease. There are others who are coping with cancer treatments, who could benefit from meals being prepared for them and their families, from offers of rides to treatments, or from cards and emails offering encouraging words. There are others who have had surgery or were injured who might need rides to appointments or therapy until they are able to drive again. There are lots of ways we can reach out to the sick.
Perhaps the most troubling expectation is that we visit those in prison. Have you ever been in a prison? I went into the Women’s Correctional Facility in Columbia, SC many years ago. One of my colleagues was the chaplain there, and she asked me to lead the Sunday worship service for her when she went on vacation. It was a scary experience in many ways. Walking through the doors and having to surrender my car keys. Hearing iron doors clang shut behind me. Standing in front of women who had committed crimes, but not even knowing what those crimes were. And yet, I was so blessed that day. The chaplain told me that the women usually had a time of sharing before the prayer. That day, one of the women wanted to speak because she was going to be released the next day. She told about how she ended up there because she was caught stealing from a department store to get something to sell to get drug money. She had lost custody of her daughter, and none of her family wanted anything to do with her. She said she was thankful for her time in prison, because it allowed her to get clean and stay clean and learn a skill she could use when she got out. She was going to try and petition for custody of her child after she found a job and an apartment.
She preached the gospel that day; I didn’t really need to share my sermon after that. We might not all have the chance to visit prisoners in person, but there are things we can do. We can support ministries to families of prisoners. We can support the Kairos ministry, which is like a Walk to Emmaus for prisoners. And we can work for prison reform and fair sentencing in our courts.
What are we supposed to be doing? We are supposed to be caring for God’s children – all God’s children. We are supposed to see in their faces the face of Christ. And we are supposed to do for them what we would do for Jesus. It’s that simple. And it’s that hard. Are we up to the challenge? I hope and pray that we are.
