Sheep and Goats

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SERMON FOR SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2008
PROPER 29A – CHRIST THE KING SUNDAY
Matthew 25:31-46 The Judgment of the Nations


Most of you know, that 9 ½ weeks ago something happened to Mark and me that has changed us forever. We became grandparents. One of the great joys that has come from this, is that I get to take care of my granddaughter one day a week, while her parents are at work. I changed my day off to Thursday, so I can be home with Olivia.

But there’s one event at church that happens on Thursdays once a month, that I want to be at church for. It’s our monthly Elders’ meeting (a.k.a. Octogenarians Anonymous). This is a group, started by Anne Hotchkiss, that gathers every month just to talk about issues related to aging. Everyone who is at least 70 years old is welcome. (It started out for people at least 80 years old, but now they let some of the young people come.) They let me come, even though I’m a little behind them in life-stages.

A couple weeks ago, on the 2nd Thursday of November, I packed Olivia into the car and brought her to church, and she was a hit. Not only with the group, but with Susan in the office, and Susan’s friend who had stopped by briefly, and waited, on the rumor that Olivia might be making an appearance.

The truth is, everybody loves Olivia. All she has to do is exist, and people are crazy about her. Same thing with Molly here, and with the other children among us. There’s just something about a little one that makes people respond with love and care.

And on that Thursday, I began to wonder: what would it be like if we had that same wonder and delight in every human being? The joy and admiration we feel in the presence of a baby… what if we felt that way around everybody?

What happens to us, that makes that go away?

Competitiveness, perhaps… Possibly fear… Mistrust, based on experience… Defensiveness or protectiveness… Careful managing of our emotions…

Things we learn for our self-preservation, that help us not be taken advantage of, that help us differentiate ourselves and take care of ourselves, but that also put up walls between us.

Just this past Friday I attended the funeral on the West Side, of Jacob MacKenzie, the 15-year-old who was shot on his front porch, allegedly by his cousin’s boyfriend – most likely accidentally, the tragic unintended victim of gang violence.

I went to the funeral because this family are neighbors of Don Austin, and I was moved by his story of their need. I, too, have a son who died, and I wanted, if possible, to reach out to this grieving mother. And I thought, this is part of our geographical parish, our church neighborhood. Perhaps I, or St. Anne’s, can help. And as I sat in the back of the church, I wondered again how it is that we have come so far, as people, from simply taking joy and delight in the presence of one another? Violence, fear, anger, hatred because of things done and left undone…

Jesus told a story to his disciples, an image of the final judgment.
In this story, some are blessed and rewarded because they served the king when they saw him in need – hungry, homeless, in prison, thirsty… And others are rejected because they saw the king in need, but did nothing to help him. Both groups protest – When did we see you in need? And the king replies: whenever you helped anyone, even – perhaps especially – the least important ones, you were helping me. And whenever you turned your back, you were turning your back on me.

I think what’s key in this story is not how much help they gave or didn’t give. We can drive ourselves crazy trying to be the sheep in the story, and realizing that all too often we behave like the goats. In their book, Good Goats: Healing Our Image of God, Dennis and Sheila and Matthew Linn come to the conclusion that we are all “good goats.” Leading a retreat of older, retired Roman Catholic nuns, Dennis Linn asked the group,

How many of you, even once in your life, have done what Jesus asks, … and fed a hungry person, clothed a naked person or visited a person in prison?” All the sisters raised their hands. Dennis said, “That’s wonderful! You’re all sheep.”

Then Dennis asked, “How many of you, even once in your life, have walked by a hungry person, failed to clothe a naked person, or not visited someone in prison?” Slowly all the sisters raised their hands. Dennis said, “That’s too bad. You’re all goats.”

The sisters looked worried and perplexed. Then suddenly one very old sister’s hand shot up. She blurted out, “I get it! We’re all good goats!”

(Good Goats: Healing Our Image of God by Dennis Linn, Sheila Fabricant Linn, and Matthew Linn. Paulist Press, 1994, p. 49)

We’re all good goats. We all succeed and we all fail at meeting the needs of our fellow human beings.

But there’s another aspect of this story that I want to explore a little further. And that is that none of those gathered before the king recognized the king in his need. It’s especially poignant in the case of the goats. Their response is something like: “But Lord! If we had known it was you, of course we would have helped you.”

This story is not calling us to try singlehandedly to meet the needs of the world’s poor or solve all the social problems around us. This story calls us to practice recognizing Christ – to take delight in one another and in every human being, just because they exist. To respond to need, yes, out of love for God, whose children we all are.

The Sunday Club children have learned a new word this fall. Namaste. It’s a Hindu word of greeting, that means roughly “the Divine Spirit in me recognizes and honors the Divine Spirit in you.” A simple greeting, a reminder and daily practice of what we have promised to do: to seek and serve Christ in all persons.

Anthony DeMello tells this story:

(from Taking Flight: A Book of Story Meditations by Anthony De Mello. Image Books, Doubleday, 1990. p. 51)

A Guru meditating in his Himalayan cave opened his eyes to discover an unexpected visitor sitting there before him – the abbot of a well-known monastery.

“What is it you seek?” asked the Guru.

The abbot recounted a tale of woe. At one time his monastery had been famous throughout the western world. Its cells were filled with young aspirants and its church resounded to the chant of its monks. But hard times had come on the monastery. People no longer flocked there to nourish their spirits, the stream of young aspirants had dried up, the church was silent. There was only a handful of monks left and these went about their duties with heavy hearts.

Now this is what the abbot wanted to know: “Is it because of some sin of ours that the monastery has been reduced to this state?”

“Yes,” said the Guru, “a sin of ignorance.”
“And what sin might that be?”
“One of your number is the Messiah in disguise and you are ignorant of this.” Having said that the Guru closed his eyes and returned to his meditation.

Throughout the arduous journey back to his monastery the abbot’s heart beat fast at the thought that the Messiah – the Messiah himself – had returned to earth and was right there in the monastery. How had he failed to recognize him? And who could it be? Brother Cook? Brother Sacristan? Brother Treasurer? Brother Prior? No, not he; he had too many defects, alas. But then, the Guru had said the Messiah was in disguise. Could the defects be one of his disguises? Come to think of it, everyone in the monastery had defects. And one of them had to be the Messiah!

Back in the monastery he assembled the monks and told them what he had discovered. They looked at one another in disbelief. The Messiah? Here? Incredible! But he was supposed to be here in disguise. So, maybe. What if it were so-and-so? Or the other one over there? Or…

One thing was certain. If the Messiah was there in disguise, it was not likely that they would recognize him. So they took to treating everyone with respect and consideration. “You never know,” they said to themselves when they dealt with one another, “Maybe this is the one.”

Soon the atmosphere in the monastery became vibrant with joy. Soon dozens of aspirants were seeking admission to the Order – and once again the church echoed with the holy and joyful chant of monks who were aglow with the spirit of love.


My friends, the Messiah is here. Not just here in this room, but in our world. You will find him in disguise, in need… We will find him in those it is easy to love, and those we find challenging.

Greet him. Delight in his presence. Welcome him. Extend your helping hand. Practice recognizing him, and know that as you serve others, you are serving Christ.


- Lydia Huttar Brown

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What Are You Afraid Of?

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SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 2008
PROPER 28A
Matthew 25: 14-30 The parable of the talents


What are you afraid of?

Of ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night…

What are you afraid of?

I’m afraid if I say how I feel, I might lose my best friend…
I’m afraid if I try, I might fail, and everyone will know I’m a loser…

What are you afraid of?

Losing my job… Not having enough retirement savings… Losing everything I’ve worked so hard for…
I’m afraid I might fall…
I’m afraid for my children… I’m afraid of the bully at school… I’m afraid of dying… I’m afraid of what the doctor might say…
I’m afraid …

There are some things we should be afraid of, like a hot stove. But too often we fear things we have no control over, or we fear the unknown, the “what if.”

Fear can be paralyzing. It can dominate our thinking and take over our actions.

That’s what happened to the third slave. He was afraid. Afraid of his master, afraid of failure, and so he hid. He hid not just himself, but all that had been entrusted to him.

Now don’t think that just because the master left him with one talent, that it was basically nothing. A talent was the equivalent of 15 years’ wages for a worker. Fifteen years he would have had to work to earn that much – assuming that as a slave, he would have been paid anyway. Fifteen years of wages, given to him freely without condition except the trust that came with it, and the expectation that the slave understood he was managing it for the landowner.

The other slaves in the story were entrusted with 5 talents and 2 talents, respectively. A lot more money than the poor fearful slave. Perhaps his fear extended to comparing himself to them. “Obviously they are the ones the master is really counting on,” he may have thought. “My part is so small, it doesn’t really count. Obviously the master doesn’t expect much from me.”

Perhaps the slave was afraid of the outer darkness, the weeping, the gnashing of teeth. And so he chose those things right up front, burying the money in the dark ground, gnashing his teeth in anxiety every time he thought about the master, weeping with fear at the thought of failure.

Finally the day came when the master returned. Calling the three whom he had entrusted with his wealth, he spoke with them one by one. The first slave had been entrusted with 5 talents – 75 years’ wages! – and joyfully reported that he had invested the money and it had doubled. The 2nd slave had a similar story with his 2 talents. A huge sum of money, doubled!

When it was the 3rd slave’s turn, he said, “Master, I knew you were harsh, and took the fruits of the labor of others … and so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground.” The master doesn’t deny or affirm the slave’s description of him. He just repeats it back, and draws a different conclusion, if that’s what the slave believed. “You believed me to be harsh, with high expectations? All the more reason you should have invested, and made something of my investment in you. Be gone, to outer darkness…”

But to each of the other 2 slaves, the master said: “Well done, good and trustworthy slave; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.”

Outer darkness… Joy of your master… Interesting talk, isn’t it? Not economic language, not the dialog of master and slave, not business talk. This is “Kingdom of Heaven” talk, “Reign of God” language. It hearkens back to the introduction to this whole section in Matthew’s gospel. Jesus said: The reign of God will be like this…

The reign of God will be like this. All are entrusted with great wealth. Some will recognize the great trust that God has placed in them. They will recognize God’s goodness and generosity in handing over to them this great abundance, with only the expectation that they manage it as God would. They will recognize that God has taken a great risk, in such trust, and so they will do their best to do as their master would. They will do their best to live the God-like qualities of risking, trusting, being generous.

But some, (in this image of the reign of God)… some will not see God as generous, trusting, or good. Some see only a god to be feared. They live in fear of the wrath and judgment of God. They see only a harsh master, an exacting accountant. Instead of abundance and generosity, they see the possibility of loss, they see only a test which they will probably fail.
They pattern their lives after the god they believe in.

Last summer at the Lambeth Conference in England, the Archbishop of Canterbury invited the Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth, Sir Jonathan Sachs, to speak to the Anglican bishops gathered from all over the world.

Rabbi Sachs spoke of different kinds of institutions and their function in society. Political institutions and structures are about the creation and distribution of power. Economic institutions and structures are about the creation and distribution of wealth. Religious institutions, in their true purpose, are about the creation and distribution of those intangible things that undergird society and make it strong. Things like love, friendship, trust, influence.

Rabbi Sachs said, power and wealth are zero-sum games. They are about competition, and, in the short term at least, there are winners and losers. In contrast, love, friendship, trust – these only exist when they are shared. And they actually grow, the more you share them. Rabbi Sachs calls these “covenantal goods.” The more I share, the more I have. And the more there is, all around.

And so, perhaps the Kingdom of Heaven will be like this: A wealthy landowner went away, and entrusted everything he had to his slaves. Some of them understood that this was a covenant of trust, and that, if they did as their master had done, they could not fail. Losing the original investment was impossible, because the more it was used, the greater it became, and the more there was. But one was afraid. Not understanding the covenant of trust, this one thought it was a zero-sum game. That losing everything was a distinct possibility, and it would be better to hoard and hide.

Jesus said that those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for his sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life?

This is Kingdom of Heaven talk, Reign of God talk, covenant talk. Jesus himself invested everything, completely emulating the generosity and riskiness of God, and by some measures he lost it all. Crucified as a criminal, alone, abandoned. But that’s not the story. This is not a story of losing. No – this is a story of risking everything and multiplying the investment.

Jesus did not fail – he returned to the master double, ten-fold, 100-fold – infinitely more than the investment entrusted to him.

He fulfilled his mission, and the master was well-pleased.

The resurrection, ascension to God’s right hand, and the ongoing life of Christ are the ultimate “Well done, good and faithful One. Enter into the joy of your God.”

Last week in her stewardship talk, Mary McDougall read a quote by Marianne Williamson, used by Nelson Mandela and many other people and places – including the movie Akeelah and the Bee. It’s worth repeating here.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn't serve the world.
There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” asks the poet Mary Oliver. What is it you plan to do with the trust placed in you by your Creator, from whom all blessings flow?

What are you afraid of?


- Lydia Huttar Brown


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Prayer For Veterans

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On this Veterans Day -

We ask for blessings on all those who have served their country in the armed forces.

We ask for healing for the veterans who have been wounded, in body and soul, in conflicts around the globe.

We pray especially for the young men and women, in the thousands, who are coming home from Iraq with injured bodies and traumatized spirits. Bring solace to them, O Lord; may we pray for them when they cannot pray. We ask for an end to wars and the dawning of a new era of peace, as a way to honor all the veterans of past wars.

Have mercy on all our veterans from World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, bring peace to their hearts and peace to the regions they fought in. Bless all the soldiers who served in non-combative posts; may their calling to service continue in their lives in many positive ways.

Give us all the creative vision to see a world which, grown weary with fighting, moves to affirming the life of every human being and so moves beyond war.

Hear our prayer, O Prince of Peace, hear our prayer.

- From Education for Justice

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Today

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Today I purpose to live

My life will shine
As the morning sings I walk in liberty
Bound in true dreams
Manifested promises
Chase my forward motion
A covered path before me
The fruits of my hoping
The fruits of my living

Today I purpose to love

My love will speak
With the sound of grace
Merciful within mercy
The works of my faith
Smiles of overflowing
Inspire my giving
Abundance of joy as rain
The fruits of my living

- michael john faciane

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