"Run the Race" (Matthew 25: 31-46)

Run the Race
Delivered by Sam Locke
November 26, 2017 - Saint Peter’s United Church of Christ (Carmel, IN)

Sermon Audio

Worship Bulletin

The Judgment of the Nations

31 “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. 32 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, 33 and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. 34 Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; 35 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, 36 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.’ 37 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? 38 And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? 39 And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ 40 And the king 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.’ 41 Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; 42 for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 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.’ 44 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?’ 45 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.’ 46 And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”

In my childhood I spent hours and hours with my grandfather … like many little children and their grandparents, to me he seemed larger than life. The way he commanded a room, the way he always seemed to pull up right when I needed him to. The way he always seemed to know the solution or, if he didn’t, to invent one. He had a charisma that never really made sense to me. Everyone seemed to love him but he never really talked. In the 32 years I got to spend with him, despite being one of the most formative people in my life, I may have heard him utter a couple dozen sentences.  To be sure, he was no poet or literary critic. So, it’s weird that with so few words ever exchanged, there was one verbal lesson he imparted on me as a little boy: he absolutely despised the story of the tortoise and the hare...Random, right? A little eccentric. But oh, it makes so much sense.

He believed the tortoise was completely irrelevant to the story.  If you run this race 1,000 times the hare is going to win it 999 of them.  Rabbits run, turtles don’t, and that’s okay.  The tortoise isn’t bad, we aren’t separating the goats and sheep like today’s text, this story just isn’t about the tortoise. How terrible, he thought, that the moral of story for kids be that slow and steady wins the race - there is work to be done in our lives, why be content with slow and steady when you have the tools to be more. The hare had the speed, it knew the environment, it had the stronger animal instincts. It knew what was expected. Yet, on this day, the hare basked in its privilege and chose to do an assortment of other things unrelated to winning the race right in front of him.

Humorist BJ Novak describes it like this: “No—the lesson of this story has nothing to do with the tortoise...and everything to do with the hare. How he had let himself become so intoxicated with the aspects of his talent that were rare that he had neglected the much more common aspects of his character that ...were more important—things like always doing your best, and never taking success for granted, and keeping enough pride burning inside to fuel your success but not so much to burn it down. Now, the hare knew these things. Now. Now that it was too late.”

Novak then goes on to describe what a re-match between the tortoise and the hare might look like.  It’s a hilarious story if you get the chance to read it in its entirety, but the outcome is foretold: the hare wins in epic fashion.  But Novak notices something else, something about the crowd. He says, “Those who didn’t know the context—who hadn’t heard about the first race—never realized what was so important about this one. “A tortoise raced a hare, and the hare won?” They didn’t understand the story, so they didn’t repeat it, and it never became known. But those who were there for both contests knew what was so special about what they had witnessed: slow and steady wins the race, till truth and talent claim their place.” And, for me, that’s where this fable collided with today’s scripture lesson.

We hear Christ’s call pretty clearly in today’s scripture passage from Matthew. In no uncertain terms, we are to care for the hungry, thirsty, sick, estranged, naked and imprisoned among us. We are to run the race of faith and we are expected to win in epic fashion. And yet, sometimes, we don’t succeed. Sometimes we don’t succeed because the race isn’t much fun. Can we blame the hare for getting bored after awhile? Sometimes we don’t succeed because the race is too complicated - either legitimately so or in the constructs of our imaginations. Sometimes we don’t succeed because we aren’t running the right race.

Next week starts Advent, where we celebrate the virtues of waiting and patience. But today, at the end of the liturgical calendar, I’d like to make the case for running the race. It may not always sound like fun and, at times, it may seem overwhelming, but run we must. I’d like to also suggest that we often make the race more complicated than it needs to be. And, like the hare, may we strive to see that God has given us all we need to succeed in whatever races we find ourselves in.

So, how do we go about running in the seemingly demanding race Matthew is setting for us today? Let’s break it down.

The scripture says, “When I was hungry, you gave me something to eat.” It doesn’t say, “When I was hungry you developed a farm-to-table supply chain I could purchase with my SNAP benefits at a locally owned mom and pop store.” It says to feed the hungry - what are the possibilities if we think about the call first and worry about the details and the process later. I have a feeling the details begin to unfold on their own. What might it look like if the church saw its role in our world of convincing our brothers and sisters that no one should be hungry? What an inspiring call-t0-action for the folks who then choose to dig deeper.

The passage says, “When I was thirsty, you gave me a drink.” Coaching my daughter’s soccer team this past fall showed this in action in the simplest of ways. One girl forgot her water bottle and a teammate offered her some of hers. Sharing a drink is all it takes to run this race. So basic and yet profound. Six-years olds instinctively understand God’s call in this context, and the we try and make it so complex sometimes. Just water rights, high-tech filtration systems, fixing lead pipes...There are hares out there for those tasks, but fulfilling the call … giving someone a drink … we all can do that.

Jesus says, “When I was a stranger, you welcomed me.” He doesn’t say not to protect yourself, he doesn’t say not to be cautious, he simply says to welcome. To say hello, to show someone another human being knows you are here. In the news recently was a story about an anti-gay state legislator caught in a tryst with another man. Many in the gay community were rightfully upset and hurt by the blatant hypocrisy with the end result being more divisiveness and exclusion. In this call - in this race - Jesus calls us to be welcoming. How fundamentally different might the conversation be if instead of ridicule the gay community offered, “I’m sorry the circumstances of your life led you to this place. But it will be okay. It get’s better. We love you and you are welcome in this community.” Words are hard to say sometimes, forgiveness even harder, but it’s the radical welcome the Christian community is called to embrace.

The scripture says, “I was naked and you clothed me.” Our angel tree in the church’s entrance stands as witness to our running of this race. This is not the time or and the church is not the place for a conversation about pulling one’s self up by their bootstraps on one end of the political spectrum or about the ills of consumerism on the other.  The church’s call from Christ is clothe the naked. Straightforward and simple in a way that is hard for us process-driven humans to even think about.

Jesus says, “When I was ill, you comforted me.” He didn’t say we healed him. He knows we aren’t up to that challenge. Even a doctor who can cure the most invasive diseases isn’t up for the challenge of healing our inner core, only God can do that and Jesus isn’t setting us up to fail. He says to comfort. To my knowledge, chicken soup isn’t meant to healing components - it is an act of comfort, it’s showing up. We can all win that race.

And finally Jesus says, “When I was in prison, you came to visit me.” No mention of forgiveness for heinous crimes, no mention of looking the other way, no mention of advocacy for criminal justice reform. A simple visit. Like the Good Samaritan who stopped to help someone completely unrelatable to himself out of a tricky situation, sometimes the call - sometimes winning the race - is just about paying attention.

To be clear, I’m not saying we shouldn’t take things to the next level - to build systems, advocate for social justice policies, and bring about cultural change - we absolutely should. If you have the talents to make of those things a reality, I might even argue that you have the moral obligation to do so.  You are called to be the hare of agricultural development, of criminal justice reform, or of whatever field in which your talents may lie. But sometimes we can get so wrapped up in the details, in everything else that is going on around us that we forget there is a race, we forget we have a clear and present call. We miss seeing how closely at hand the realm of God is and that perhaps we might even be in it together.

My point is this. Jesus has set the finish line in a place we all can get to. We can do all of the things being asked of us. We all have the ability to be the hare. But sometimes we aren’t, and we are offered grace for that.  And that, my friends, is why we tell Christ’s story over and over again - from start to finish - to anyone who will listen. This week we start a new liturgical year - a chance to start telling the story all over again. The beginning, the end, and all of the painfully beautiful parts in between. If you didn’t know what happened in the first race - in the old age marked by greed, violence and oppression - then the second race - the new age of Christ’s eternal community - doesn’t make much sense. Running the race reminds us not to take our call for granted, it’s a reminder we were given abilities for a reason. The race of faith reminds us that being part of Christ’s community is a tremendous act of grace and love we should share with everyone.

Listen to my grandfather and remember the hare. Remember those times when we came up short, remember the old age. But live within the reign of Christ. We know the truth of our call.  We know we have the talent, the ability, the courage to meet the charge ahead of us. As we start Advent next week we’ll be reminded of the virtue of patiently waiting for Jesus’ remarkable transformation of the world and we’ll start to tell Christ’s story all over again, so our collective new stories make sense.  But today? Today, let’s imagine the realm of God is at hand, and live in joyous celebration. Amen.