Gloria Dei Lutheran Church

Today’s Texts: Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24; Ephesians 1:15-23; Matthew 25:31-46

Dear Friends in Christ, God’s grace and peace be with you. Amen.

Poet Mary Oliver says, “Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable[i].”

In the face of the continuing horrors we hear about war and injustice, about climate change, about ever-widening income and social divisions, it’s too easy to fall into the trap of cynicism or despair. Could we keep some room in our hearts for the unimaginable?

Could we hope that despite the grief and loss we have known in the last year, and some of us have felt much more deeply than others, God is still with us, wrapping us in grace and compassion we never trusted before?

Could we dare dream that though ugly racism and nationalistic pride continue to instill fear and hatred into our discourse, though war rages in lands we call holy, and politicians name neighbors as enemies, there still are more people than not who long for peace and justice and equality for their neighbor, in every corner of the earth.

Could we keep room in our hearts to believe that we could see God in those most in need around us?

This is the last sermon Jesus teaches us in Matthew’s gospel before he is anointed and betrayed. You’ll remember that at the beginning of his ministry, Jesus went up a mountain and taught like Moses, describing blessings in surprising terms – blessed are peacemakers; blessed are those who mourn; blessed are those who thirst for righteousness; blessed are those who are persecuted. “Blessed are the pure in heart,” he taught, “for they shall see God[ii].

He ends his teaching ministry with that same audacious claim, that those who care for their neighbors, even without considering it, touch the body of Christ, respond to the needs of Jesus in their caregiving[iii].

What if we kept room in our heart for the unimaginable, that when we care for those who are hurting, we in fact care for God? That when we are living out our truest, purest, most authentic lives, we see God all around us.

Today we observe the Reign of Christ, the final Sunday of the church year. We sing of God’s crowning power and might. Many of us get a more than a bit queasy with the images of patriarchy and colonialism that have been so regularly mingled into Christ’s crown. But it was actually not until 1925, in the face of rising nationalism and xenophobia across the globe, that the observance was envisioned. Christ the King was designed to serve as a counter-cultural message, reminding Christians that the authority of God transcended any earthly supremacy being claimed by fascist dictators[iv].

The willingness of the church in the decades since to continue promoting racial eugenics, the subjugation of women, hatred toward gays and lesbians, or disregard for the immigrant, and to do all of it in the name of a Militant, Triumphant God, is a sign of how badly we may still need what the Reign of Christ feast was meant to offer.

Because it’s not a new idea. From the beginning, God’s reign of justice and mercy has been woven into all creation. As Ezekiel sang, God’s is a kingdom of peace and righteousness, of care for the least and inclusion of the lost, of reconciliation and communion with all[v].

Divine love has never abandoned all of creation so that one day, it can come down to reign again. Love has been written into the stars and the ground below our feet, from the beginning, and is here with us now.

The “goats” in Jesus’s parable are not those who were outside of his community, but those who were with him all along, and acted as it didn’t make any difference. The “sheep” don’t offer compassion to those who are hungry or naked or imprisoned because they recognize them as Jesus. Rather, the sheep embody the compassion Jesus has shown them.

This parable is less about final judgement and more about living our lives so fully immersed in the reign of God that, as Gail Ramshaw says, we “embody Christ in every moment, and engage every part of our world as Christ’s redeemed creation[vi]”? I like to imagine that we become so drenched with grace, we can’t help but splash it on those around us.

St. Basil the Great, 4^th century bishop in what is Turkey today, taught that you pray continually “not by offering prayer in words, but by joining yourself to God through your whole way of life, so that your life becomes one continuous and uninterrupted prayer[vii].” Or again as Jesus teaches, “Blessed are pure in heart, for they shall see God.” Can we keep some room in our hearts for the unimaginable?

Maybe this sounds way too pollyannish. Tell the people whose loved ones are not coming home from Gaza or Israel that if they were only a little purer of heart, they could see God. Tell the parents of the young person who dies from fentanyl-laced Adderall that God is everywhere. Tell hungry polar bears floating on shrinking blocks of ice that the God who made them is present and cares.

But there’s nothing idealistic in the parable Jesus offers. There’s nothing pollyannish about serving another meal at Loaves and Fishes, or carrying backpacks to Highland Elementary School so our neighbors can eat. It’s not wishful thinking to show up at the funeral of a friend’s parent or spouse and let them know you’re thinking of them. It’s not foolish to advocate for affordable housing. It’s not childish fantasy to visit those who are in prison, or those who are face deportation, and treat them like children of God.

Embodying Christ in our interactions isn’t naïve or fantastical. It’s the privilege we receive as heirs of the kingdom. It’s the gift we have as those blessed by God to carry love into the world.

As Christ the King Sunday ends this church year, we begin again next week, crossing into a new cycle as Advent begins. Throughout the entire season of Advent we’re invited to keep room in our hearts for the unimaginable, to envision a world in which Christ will be born, and to live as if we already see God around us.

But we don’t have to light candles or trim trees, we don’t have to bake cookies or pass along wish lists, we can simply strive to keep room in our hearts to imagine that sins could be forgiven; that a lasting peace could be negotiated; that swords could be beaten into plowshares; that children throughout the world could be fed; that the Word could become flesh and live among us.

Can you imagine?

[i] Mary Oliver, Evidence,  https://yearsrisingmaryoliver.blogspot.com/2011/02/evidence.html

[ii] Matthew 5:1-12

[iii] Matthew 25:31-46

[iv] Ephesians 1:15-23

[v] Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24

[vi] Gail Ramshaw, Sundays and Seasons, Lectionary Notes, Christ the King, Lectionary 34, November 26, 2023, Sundays and Seasons.com;  https://members.sundaysandseasons.com/Home/TextsAndResources#resources.

[vii] Basil, 379. https://www.orthodoxchurchquotes.com/2013/07/10/st-basil-the-great-prayer-is-a-request-for-what-is-good/