Double Vision

sermon by Carrie Eikler
Matthew 25:31-46, Ephesians 1:15-23

I have to say—the gospel readings for the past three weeks have been pretty… heavy. Bridesmaids who fall asleep late at night and bridesmaids who hoard their oil (the latter ones being commended); servants who are entrusted with their greedy master’s money, some are risky and some play it safe (the latter ones being chastised). And today. Those who see the suffering Christ and those who don’t quite see it yet (these last ones relegated to the position of goats and thrown into the metaphorical fire—at least we hope it’s metaphorical).

Now I don’t know about you, but these aren’t exactly the stories about Jesus and his teachings that I like to throw around, especially not to those new to Christianity, or critics of Christianity, or doubters in Christianity. Jesus sounds kind of harsh, and not very welcoming. And while I commend Torin for the job he did in helping us see these first two scriptures in a new light—to help us take them beyond face value—I have to say I’m still not comforted by them. And if I’m not comforted by the words of my Savior, can I claim to really be a follower?

I sometimes have difficultly seeing that.

To be honest, I have always liked the gospel scripture for today, about the sheep and goats. Not because I like sheep and goats, but because of the basic incarnational theology it presents. The idea that God is in everything, in everyone, in every situation…and our actions towards each thing, each person, each situation we encounter is an interaction, in some way, with the divine. And on the flip side, our lack of attention and engagement is, so it seems, an unconscious separation of ourselves from God.

It speaks to a basic Christian belief—and a cherished Anabaptist one—that faith is not private conviction, but it is also public practice.

Yet, as I have grown a little older, taking on more responsibilities, a family, a job, a small business, a yard and a garden and getting involved in my kids’ school—I have become more uncomfortable when I approach this scripture. It’s one thing to read this with the eyes of an idealistic, socially-conscious 20-year old with relatively few responsibilities, who sees the source of the social ills as caused by other people—older people—but now…You know they used to say “don’t trust anyone over 30…” because apparently something happens. Your priorities shift. Your life isn’t what you thought it might be. While you still might feel passionately about things, your motivation to act is…tempered somewhat.

So there is a part of me that feels like these gospel scriptures are a bit…unfair. I guess it’s because I’m now over 30. It gets us feeling a little bit down on ourselves and then today comes, when churches around the world are celebrating Christ the King Sunday, the Sunday before Advent begins, the Sunday when we proclaim Christ the head of the church, and we, his servant subjects. Christ reigns in glory and the whole world bows before him.

[pause]

Actually, this isn’t quite our cup of tea is it? I wonder how many of you actually knew it was called Christ the King Sunday… and if my little lectionary reflections hadn’t reminded me that today was indeed, Christ the King Sunday, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. It feels a little—high church—for us lowly Brethren and Mennonites. Some people refer to this as "Reign of Christ" Sunday. I can swallow that cup of tea a little better.

So, whether it is Christ the King or the Reign of Christ, what is interesting is that lowly is what today’s gospel is all about. One article I read this week compared today’s gospel with the TV reality show Undercover Boss. “CBS describes the nature of the show: Each week, Undercover Boss follows a different executive as they leave the comfort of their corner office for an undercover mission to examine the inner workings of their companies. While working alongside their employees, they see the effects that their decisions have on others, where the problems lie within their organizations, and get an up-close look at both the good and the bad while discovering the unsung heroes who make their company run.

“It sounds a lot like the gospel text for Christ the King Sunday,” says Christine Chakoian. 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. Then to everyone’s surprise,” Chakoian remarks, “he will reveal that he has been undercover among them for some time, observing them at work.”

Now, that isn’t the most comforting image either, in fact it is a bit anxiety producing, a bit like Big Brother. She goes on to admit this isn’t a perfect metaphor- it’s not that the primary purpose of God coming among us in Christ, and remaining with us in the Holy Spirit was so our cosmic Boss could see how the company was running--but this passage does asks us, how accurately are we anticipating the “CEO’s” priorities: I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something 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.”

Now if you have been coming to this congregation for even a short length of time, you will know that we are a people who are concerned. We are a socially-conscious people. I don’t need to waste my breath with most of you, convincing you the need to be aware of the suffering of the world in some way, that we are a people called to serve, that we pray with our feet, and that, as St. Teresa of Avila said, Christ has no body on earth now but ours. I know it, and I believe you know it.

But here’s the rub, as I see it. Because I know it leaves me in a quandary, and I imagine it does for some of you too:

Should I put all my money towards relief agencies serving those affected by drought and famine in Somalia, or towards campaigns creating a new food culture in public school lunches? The thirsty or the hungry?

Should I put my time into working for just immigration policies or volunteering at Christian Help to provide business clothing for women who are looking for work, but don’t have the appropriate wardrobe? The stranger or the naked?

Should I spend much of my energy into organizing for policies which grant dignity for those who are mentally ill, or should I put it towards the campaign working to eliminate human trafficking and modern day slavery in the US? The sick or the prisoner?

I think I do a good job of seeing the world’s needs and the disenfranchised. Of seeing Christ dwelling in the least of these. It’s there. It comes in the mail as fliers, it comes from our denominational agencies as glossy brochure and special offering initiatives or special worship focus, it comes when I’m listening to the news while I’m cooking dinner, and in it’s in my head at night when I thank God for my health, my family, my home, my job and realize that these are luxuries that the majority of the world doesn’t have.

And then it seeps in. That uninvited visitor who I want to keep out, but always seem to leave the backdoor of my mind unlocked for: guilt.

When I make a choice, does that mean that I’m neglecting the other one? Am I seeing Christ in the thirsty, but not the prisoner, the naked but not the sick? Am I willingly turning my back to all the other needy people and situations? Am I too attuned to the needs of those far away, and not looking at the needs at my own door step?

Sometimes, though I am self-admittedly a feminist and a pacifist, my mind needs a good slap in the face, like those old black and white movies where a valiant man gives the hysterical woman a slap, not with the intent to hurt her, but to snap her out of whatever it is that is spiraling out of control.

So, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit, but I think many of us do feel so compelled to do something for our neighbor, but we just don’t know what is needed, or effective, or sustainable. And let’s face it, “loving our neighbor” throws a lot wider net now than it did 2,000 years ago. We see every part of the world, more needs, more prisoners, more hungry, more definition of what justice means. And it seems the more we know, the more likely we feel we might be herded up with goats because we aren’t able to do everything for everybody.

And then we either live in that guilt, or…we just become numb to it. We choose not to see it. Or we choose to see it with our physical eyes, but not to engage it with our inner eye, our spiritual eye. The one that takes what we see physically, and somehow translates it into the language of the spirit.

And I think that’s a bit of what Paul can teach us in his letter to the Ephesians this week. When we wonder what is ours to do, either for the environment of West Virginia, or the children of sexual abuse, or refugees in Afghanistan, or our neighbor who is suffering with cancer…if we can take Paul’s words to heart we won’t say “I can’t do anything” and we won’t say, “I can do it all”.

Instead, let’s stop, take a deep breath and say, or rather pray Paul’s words:
[deep breath]

I pray that God…may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you.

[pause]

Stanley Hauerwas said that “We can only act within a world we can see. Vision is the necessary prerequisite for ethics.” We’re called to see the interconnectedness of the world. That because Christ suffered on the cross he is deeply a part of the world’s suffering and when we see we are compelled to respond…it’s a question of ethics. It’s seeing Christ in the world.

But it also calls us to double vision. It’s also about seeing with the inner eye the wisdom of Christ. We might call it discerning. We might ask the very important, but simple question, what is mine to do?

And I’ m pretty sure the answer won’t be everything. And it probably won’t be nothing. It might be as simple an answer as to say a prayer. And if it takes you beyond that, then that’s when Paul’s prayer, not guilt, becomes your motivator.

It has been said many places that your calling is where the world’s greatest need and your greatest joy meet. A double axis. A double vision. With a global society and technology the world’s needs are laid before us daily. But our greatest joy? Our divine abilities? Our passion? I sure wish someone could tweet me what those are, or get instant updates on my Facebook status.

Because that’s a lot harder. And it is frustrating. And as you discern and grow in wisdom remember that Christ is with you as well. “It humbles me to know that Christ cared so much that he left the comfort of his corner office to hang around his staff” says Christine Chakoian. “I am strengthened because he rolled up his sleeves in the muck of the factory and field, the hospital and kitchen, the halls of power and the temple of worship. I am reassured that he has compassion nofr those of us who, out of exhaustion or discouragement, are tempted to cut corners or even walk away.”

There is wisdom, and revelation. There is seeing with your heart enlightened. And when we see with that double vision, maybe then we can live in the hope. The hope where the Divine One joins you.