A Church Without Asterisks

Preached on World Communion Sunday

Matthew 25:31-46

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. 

Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, 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 him, ‘Lord, 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 king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.’ 

Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘You who are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his 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, ‘Lord, 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 he 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.”

Sermon

If you’re a fan of Chick-fil-a, you’ve probably tried all their sauces. There’s ranch, barbeque sauce, and all the normal ones, but there’s one that stands out from the others. It’s called Polynesian sauce, and it’s this bizarre mix of sweet and sour, tangy and savory. It’s kind of complex, and as soon as you think you’ve figured it out, something new hits your taste buds. Matthew 25 is a little like Polynesian sauce: it’s both sweet to our spirits and sour; there’s something to be savored, and something that catches us off guard. We wrestle with ideas about God’s judgment, about whether we are faithfully doling out grace, and if our lives are walking in the way of love. We wrestle with the complexities of living out our faith in an ethically-complicated and murky world. Sweet, sour, tangy, tart, savory.

But beyond containing both fire and brimstone and blessings, there’s a little bit of uncertainty about the mechanics of this apocalyptic scene: in the second coming of Christ, are the nations being sorted out, people-by-people? Or are they being separated individual-by-individual? Part of the reason this text was chosen for World Communion Sunday is because we don’t have a clear-cut answer on whether it’s person-by-person or people-by-people. That makes it have a global reach while also challenging us individually. It’s a warning, command, and promise for everyone collectively and everyone individually. This warning, command, and promise hinges in part on the art of discernment, and who we love and nurture. Matthew 25 challenges us to discern—or not!—who it is we feed, clothe, welcome, and care for.

When we think of spiritual discernment, we often think of someone who is trying to make a big decision and trying to figure out what God might want them to do. Should I place my parent, or a spouse, in residential care? Should I move closer to my children? Should I take this new job with good pay, even though it’s far away from my loved ones? Those are part of spiritual discernment. But discernment extends far beyond our spirituality.

“[Matthew 25 has] a global reach while also challenging us individually… Matthew 25 challenges us to discern—or not!—who it is we feed, clothe, welcome, and care for.”

Each week at Wired Word, the group examines the ways faith informs our public life. And this past Monday, we dug into the topic of regulating or censoring speech. We asked questions about what is permissible, what is appropriate, and the legal extent of free speech in the United States.

An important idea that surfaced during the discussion was discernment. Who has the right to discern what is legal? Who has the right to discern what is appropriate? And who is ultimately responsible for that discernment in the content and expression of speech?

There was one theme that seemed to stand out: someone has to discern what is decent and what is indecent. Someone has to decide whether a movie can be shown to kids, teens, or adults. We don’t want our preschoolers watching the Night of the Living Dead. To boil it down to its simplest form, someone has to discern what is good and what is bad. It might be the government, a business, a professional group, or the individual.

If I had to guess, this is something that is pretty natural for us. We have a knee-jerk reaction to advertisements, certain language, types of violence, politics, and on and on. I have a hunch that all of us could pretty quickly discern what things are worthy of censorship. Or when we read about criminal charges in the news, it’s pretty easy to have a knee-jerk “instinct” about whether the person is guilty or innocent, even without the details.

These kinds of discernment are in part what animate Jesus’ warning, command, and promise.

“It’s pretty easy to have a knee-jerk ‘instinct’ about someone’s guilt or innocence, even without the details.”

But unexpectedly, surprisingly, maybe a little annoyingly, Jesus warns and excoriates those goats who were discerning. They might have thought it was due to their integrity, and their self-righteous attempt to discern who was worth and unworthy. These goats who failed to welcome strangers, clothe the naked, and feed the hungry said, “we didn’t see you!” Almost as if to say, “We kept our eyes peeled, we were discerning to see if it was you, but you never showed up!”

One of the most unexpected divides in this story is between those who were trying to discern who was supposedly worthy of food, love, clothing, and comfort and those who were indiscriminate in their care for others. In Jesus’ upside-down kingdom, he doesn’t reward those who “figured out” which strangers were entitled to their material welfare; he doesn’t reward those who discerned which strangers were deserving of a welcome, or which hungry people were “rightfully” poor and “wrongfully” poor. No, Jesus goes as far as to condemn those who said, “Well… this person is hungry, but they just need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.” Or “This person is a stranger, but they need to speak my language, act the way I do, and have a family that looks like mine.” Jesus condemns those asterisks we give others — our reasons and criteria as to why someone is undeserving or unworthy of food, clothing, love, and care. He condemns those asterisks we often place on Christians around the globe, whether it be on the African, Asian, or South American continents.

Instead, Jesus rewards those who didn’t discern the rightness and wrongness or deservedness and undeservedness of others. Jesus rewards those who couldn’t care less about the asterisks.

The way we read our Bibles is really important here: if we read this as hyperbole or as parable—and not as prophecy—we will talk ourselves away from Jesus’ commands, and talk ourselves into believing that goats are better than sheep. Jesus says, feed the hungry, give a drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit prisoners. Full stop. No asterisks.

Our calling here—our commandment here—as disciples, as a church, as a nation, isn’t to look for the sheep and ignore the goats. If we do, we’ll make an earthly hell for Jesus.

Jesus was an indecent man, who affirmed the faith of prostitutes, who condemned the religious, who transgressed legal and political code; who caused too much trouble. His life was a vulgarity to Rome and a vulgarity to the Sadducees.

There was asterisk after asterisk placed on Jesus, reason after reason that he deserved mistreatment, disregard, and abandonment. There was asterisk after asterisk that we placed on Jesus, reasons that he was a goat unworthy of life.

“Jesus condemns those asterisks we often place on Christians around the globe, whether it be on the African, Asian, or South American continents.”

This World Communion Sunday, we come to realize that as Christians, we far too often place ourselves as the sole discerners of grace. But by realizing that we are self-centered and myopic in our faith—that our asterisks are arbitrary and punitive—we receive the opportunity to celebrate the grand, global scale of God’s work on earth.

That global scale of God’s work is not abstract or theoretical; it intersects our lives in real ways. The stole I’m wearing today was given to me by one of my chaplaincy educators. His family was from Ghana, and my educator learned to navigate a host of cultural and religious complexities as he pursued ministry and chaplaincy.

My educator knew many details of my own journey into ministry and the ways I navigated away from a painful religious and cultural environment. We reflected at times about the ways other denominations fulfilled the baptismal vows that regressive faith communities originally made. And as I approached ordination, we discussed my own fears of being forgotten.

One day, I arrived to the hospital, where there was a gift bag waiting for me. Inside, it had this beautiful stole, full of vibrant color and patterns, and bursting with life. Though I remained a little nervous about my ordination service, this stole became a good companion that calmed my fears.

The reason is more than its vibrancy. My educator told me that its stitches and the love woven into it was done by Ghanian women. There is someone out there—someone who is unlike us in every way—who God is working through. We may have nothing in common—no culture, no language, no politics, no background—and yet, when we refuse to make those asterisks, God works in remarkable ways. We simply don’t have the power to sustain our own faith, and we will always struggle to savor God’s love and grace without the global church. Their work is our work, and our work is their work. But we’ll miss it if we start adding asterisks, or start making ourselves the decider of sheep and goats.

“There is someone out there—someone who is unlike us in every way—who God is working through. We may have nothing in common—no culture, no language, no politics, no background—and yet, when we refuse to make those asterisks, God works in remarkable ways.”

This is the Table where we are stitched together and woven into the global church. When we say, “we lift our hearts to the Lord,” we are lifting our hearts beyond this world, and into the company of saints. We are entering into true communion with the body and blood of our Lord, and the body of the church universal.

This week, as we remember that we are part of one greater family, we are charged with the responsibility to decenter our perspectives. Seek out the global church; read about the theologies, and ministries, and missions that span continent and country. Learn more about today’s special offering and read stories about PC(USA) mission workers. Or simply consider the people you find disreputable; identify those people who you think are a waste of time or money, because those are who Jesus welcomes, feeds, clothes, and comforts.

In other words, in whatever way we learn or act, try to find the furthest reaches of where Jesus is. Let go of asterisks so that you can try to find the edge of this global communion. From north and south, east and west, from rich and poor, from foreigner and neighbor, from everything in all creation: we are united in an indiscriminate communion of grace and love.