Canned Chicken

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The king will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me’ [Matthew 25:37-40, NIV].

For the past six weeks or so, the folks in “my” Carolina Arbors Bible Study have pretty much followed the Gospel reading appointed for the following Sunday (Year A). We’ve moved, therefore, through a series of parables that Jesus offered up during the last phase of his public teaching. Almost imperceptibly, we’ve been driven toward a climax, a powerful moment in which Jesus might sum up his teaching within a final parable. And so, earlier today, we encountered the Parable of the Sheep and Goats [Matthew 25:31-46], the Gospel appointed for final Sunday in the liturgical year, “Christ the King Sunday” (RCL, Year A).

We noted that the parable is something of a victory hymn to Christ set in the future, at the time when “the Son of Man comes in his glory …” [Matthew 25:31]. We spoke of the richness of irony here, that the same Jesus, who had “nowhere to lay his head” [Matthew 8:20] is now seated on the heavenly throne as King. The Jesus who was rejected even by those in his hometown [Matthew 13:54-58] is now raised to status as the judge of the entire human family.

You all know how the parable continues. Jesus allows that just as a shepherd in first century Palestine might divide his larger flock, separating the sheep from the less valuable goats, so in the parable, the Son of Man divides the people into “sheep” on the right and “goats” on the left.

We then hear the King’s words of judgment. To the sheep he says,

Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in. I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me [Matthew 25:34b-36].

In the parable, the sheep are incredulous. They ask the King when had they shown any of those kindnesses to him. His response: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me ” [25:40].

As the parable continues, the King turns toward the goats, telling them to depart, that they are cursed, for the King was hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, sick, and in prison, but they ignored him. Like the sheep, the goats are surprised, wondering when they had ignored the King. His response: “Whatever you did not do for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did not do for me” [25:45].

“Wow!” we might say. “Is this what we’ve been taught in Sunday school? Does salvation come to us as a result of our works?”

All our lives, I thought we’d heard that salvation comes by Grace through Faith? But none of that is mentioned in the parable. Can the point of the parable actually be that works–and not belief in Christ–is the crucial issue at the time of the Final Judgment?

Well, first we should remember that this a parable. For weeks now we have been stressing that in his parables, Jesus’ true message can often be found by looking for the twists or turns in the parable. For example, as the Reverend Dr. Tom Long suggests in his excellent commentary on Matthew, if the message of the parable is that those who do good deeds are rewarded and those who do not are punished, the parable becomes just a fairly conventional morality tale–the sort of story that can be found in the religious literature of many, many cultures. In this parable, Jesus has much more to tell us. And if we look carefully, we’ll see at least two important twists within the parable.

First, the sheep aren’t compassionate because they desire salvation; they are compassionate because that is how they have seen their Lord react to those in need. They are merely imitating his love for those who are desperate. Put another way, this is true Faith and true Belief in Christ, for if one really believes in Jesus, that belief is reflected in how one goes about one’s daily life. Caring for others is simply done. There is no thought of a reward.

The second twist in the parable is that, in their compassion toward those in need, the Sheep were actually ministering unto the Messiah, and, likewise, in their indifference to the needs of others, the Goats were in fact neglecting the Son of Man and ruler of all nations. As they discover the truth, both groups are stunned; their responses to the King are virtually identical.

In his final parable, in his last public message, Jesus is telling the listeners–indeed, Jesus is telling us–that if we want to find him, we must look in those places filled with outsiders and strangers. We will not find him within the cozy aspects of our lives.

As Duke Divinity School Professor Emeritus James M. (“Mickey”) Efird has often said, “I’m not going to tell you that you can’t find Jesus Christ on the 18th green at Hope Valley Country Club …. I am going to tell you that you won’t find him there very often.”

During my Asbury UMC years, I had the distinct pleasure and honor to work with the Reverend Wally Ellis for the final four years of his parish ministry. Truth be told, Wally wasn’t much of a preacher. Yet, the story was that every congregation he had ever served had easily forgiven Wally’s homiletical shortcomings. Like Wally’s other congregations, Asbury would discover that what he lacked in the pulpit, he more than made up for with the face-to-face. Wally’s love for the congregation was genuine, and people always respond to genuine love.

Just over a year into our time together at Asbury, we noticed the presence one Sunday of a middle-aged, black man sitting on the back row. Let’s call him Ted. He’d confused Asbury UMC with Asbury A.M.E. Zion, the predominantly black church a few miles to our south, but he laughed and said he’d seen “white folks” before and he wasn’t scared of us.

Over the next few months, as Wally and I got to know Ted, we realized he had significant issues. In discussions with several of Ted’s family members who lived in Durham, we learned that Ted had worked as an accountant in Jersey City for years, but that he had become addicted to cocaine, and had been fired. His addiction had also resulted in some level of mental illness. His family had relocated him to a small rented house near Asbury; they were diligent about checking on him. And so was Wally. Every Sunday, Wally or I would swing by Ted’s house and bring him to church.

Part of Wally’s pastoral care for Ted was to take Ted supper one afternoon each week. The supper would always be enough for at least two meals. As I say, Wally couldn’t preach, and his wonderfully sweet and gracious wife, Luella, couldn’t cook. So, Wally formed a small committee of about half a dozen ladies in the church who made Ted a weekly one-pot supper on a rotating basis.

One week, as Wally was talking with Diane (not her real name), one of the ladies on “the committee,” Wally said, “Now, Diane, I do believe you make the best chicken pot pie I have ever tasted. I’ll bet Ted would really enjoy some of that. Would it be alright if I swung by tomorrow about four and picked it up?”

Diane replied, “Of course, I’ll have it ready.”

The following day, at about 4:00 p.m., Wally pulled into Diane’s driveway and sauntered up to her front door. Already aware of his arrival, Diane ushered Wally back to the kitchen, where she had the pie ready on the counter. Wally smiled at her and said, “Diane, do I look as lucky as I feel?”

Diane gave him a puzzled look and said, “I guess so, why do you think you’re lucky?”

Wally retorted, “Well, about an hour ago, I got a call from Ted. It seems some of his folks are picking him up right about now, and they’re driving down to Wilmington to see some cousins and friends. Ted will be gone for at least three days, so Luella and I get to enjoy your delicious chicken pie.”

“Oh Wally,” Diane said with a frown and a heavy sigh. “If I had known that my pie was for you and Luella, I wouldn’t have used canned chicken.”

Oh Jesus, if we had known that you were there in the clinic comforting the unborn stranger during the last few minutes of her life, we would have welcomed you.