Comments for Jim

Sunday, November 21, 1999
Rev. James A. Todhunter
"THANKSGIVING AND JUSTICE"
Psalm 100
Ephesians 1:15-23
Matthew 25:31-46

Dr. Reinhold Niebuhr, America’s foremost 20^th century theologian, used to say that our celebration of Thanksgiving always had for him a touch of irony in it. Where Thanksgiving is supposed to be an honest and heartfelt outpouring of gratitude for all the good gifts God has bestowed upon us and our land, too often there is a sense of comfortable entitlement to all that has come to us, and that these are really our rewards for being such righteous folk. It feels bad when people debunk any holiday, and I think Americans are particularly fond of Thanksgiving. I am. The fact that there is more travel at Thanksgiving, more efforts for family to connect, means that for most of us it is a time for appreciation of family and the simple gifts of life. We save the gourmet meals for other occasions. At Thanksgiving it is back to the basics.

Yet Niebuhr was a prophet of social justice. He was acutely aware that the divisions in society between the rich and the poor are in no way ordained by God. And he, like the prophets of old, knew well how easily the rich can delude themselves into thinking that their wealth is proof of how happy God is with them. Of course, at the heart of Thanksgiving, which I think the Pilgrims and Abraham Lincoln well understood, is the affirmation that all good things flow from the grace of God. The pilgrims were very protestant in that way – they knew that nothing we do, however wonderful, can ever earn us God’s love and blessing. God is gracious, but not accountable to us.

The scripture from Matthew’s Gospel this morning is perhaps the classic social justice parable of Jesus. At first glance it is strikingly forthright. It seems to say that we will end up along the elect or the damned – among the sheep or the goats. Who are the elect? Those who care for the needy, welcome the stranger, feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, visit the sick or the prisoners. The damned are those who don’t. Therefore the message is that we had better do these things, for our souls are at stake. As a person of the sixties, I heard the Parable of the Last Judgment proclaimed, in and out of season, at civil rights rallies, anti-war gatherings, and in church. As a story to buttress social justice, it is effective and easy to understand. Who can argue with its message of doing good and not evading responsibility for others in need?

But having said this, I have to add that if we understand this parable simply in these terms, it can seem to be a story that seeks to motivate us from guilt and fear: guilt that makes us worry that we aren’t doing more, and fear that we will somehow be punished for our inattention to others. The problem with this is that while guilt and fear can grab our attention, they can only motivate us so far. These feelings don’t create compassion.

So one must, I think, look deeper into the story. What a superficial reading of the story doesn’t deal with is how both groups, the sheep and the goats, the good and the bad, did not recognize the Son of Man, the Christ, in the hungry, thirsty, sick, naked or imprisoned. "When did we do all these things?" ask the sheep. And "When did we not do all these things?" ask the goats. But it is really the same question. Presumably, for any of us, on those days we are goats or those days we are sheep, if we recognize the opportunity to minister to Jesus himself, who would not do this? No one in his or her right mind would reject such an opportunity. So at a deeper level, what is this about?

Let me suggest three things to think about. First, the parable teaches that we are called to care for others without expectation of pay-off or reward. As human beings, we do good for many reasons. We do good in order to feel good. Who hasn’t felt good when you have delivered a meal or provided a ride or visited someone who was ill? If we happen to feel bad about something, or down on ourselves, doing something nice for another person can give us a lift. Sometimes we do good because we like to be seen as someone who does good, earning ourselves prestige points in the eyes of others. Or sometimes we do good or proclaim justice because we are angry. The prophets of ancient Israel were angry when they saw people oppressed and suffering. But not every angry person is a prophet. Some people are just angry. Cries of justice can sometimes be cries for revenge. The Parable of the Last Judgment really, I think, calls on us to examine our motives for what we do, especially doing good. The more we dwell on the consequences of our actions, the less involved and present we are in what we do. The only good that matters is good motivated out of selfless love. St. Paul says that you may give away all you have and even forfeit your very life, but if you don’t do it with love, it means nothing.

The second point may seem to contradict the first. By seeking to help the very "least" among us, you will be rewarded, but not in the way you think. The point is not feeling good, earning credits or acting out anger. Welcome the stranger, or seek out the least to help, because you need to be spiritually enlarged. The poor, the hungry, the thirsty, the ill, the naked, those in prison have something you desperately need. They can show you things about yourself, that none of your friends will or can. Such people can show you how you could easily be, what you may have been, and what you are sometimes. That is, wretched. For the people of the Bible, especially the Hebrews, the worst sin is to forget where you came from and who you belong to. God reminds the people repeatedly, "Remember that you, too, were slaves in Egypt. And God delivered you from bondage and gave you this land." The people described in the parable are reminders to us especially when we feel we have it all together. Wretched suffering is only a breath, a heartbeat, a drive on the beltway, a slip on the ice, or a CAT scan away.

People who are in recovery from alcohol or drug use know this very well. In the telling of their stories at AA or NA meetings, they remember. In telling their stories, they are enabled to listen compassionately to the stories of others. This is a lesson in true humility. Society and churches, often struggle to know how truly to help those in need. It is important to know what helps and what doesn’t, when tough love is called for, and tender acceptance is appropriate. But, more and more, I sense in our society the desire to figure out who is worthy of help and who isn’t. In dealing with the homeless, for example, one will sometimes hear the distinction made between the "situationally" homeless and the chronic homeless. The first group is folks, just like you and me, who are down on their luck and need a hand-up. The chronic homeless are the problem people, the addicted and the mentally ill. We are told that they are different from normal people and require different approaches. I understand that, up to a point. But I think that ultimately this is wrong. It is another way of simply labeling people in order to dispense with them. The biblical message is that, at heart, we are all created in the image of God, and each of us possesses the capacity for goodness, or the capacity to throw our lives away. All sin and suffering is, in this sense, situational. One of my alma maters, New York Theological Seminary, has developed a program for theological education at Sing Sing Prison. There among some of the world’s most hardened criminals, men are studying and obtaining theological degrees. Some have become Christian or Islamic clergymen, people with no chance of parole ever. Yet, God has called them to a ministry of healing and reconciliation where they are. Some are convicted murderers. Friends of mine who have taught in that program say that the first thing you must do if you are going and understand and work with such prisoners, is to throw away the label "murderer." To label someone with the term murderer is to affix society’s worst name, the final dehumanization. This is different from praying with or for someone whose situation is that they have committed murder. The sick, the hungry, the naked, the ill and the prisoners are in their situations for a variety of reasons. But these situations do not define their identity, any more than our relative freedom, wealth and comfort define ours. The saying "There, but for the grace of God, go I" is not an empty slogan, but a profound and humbling truth.

Finally, I think this parable is saying what Jesus is always saying. Everybody has a place at the table. Everybody has something enriching to share. And there is room for all. This applies to the shared meal, but also to the political meaning of the phrase – all are stakeholders who should be at the table, where decisions affecting us all are made.

And this gets us back to Thanksgiving. What have become the clichés of the Thanksgiving story need to be regularly dusted off and re-embraced. It really is a wonderful story about how those Pilgrims their first New England Winter were befriended by the native people they met, and together they shared a meal of real mutuality. They sat at table together and each made a contribution. Irrespective of the sad course that history took thereafter, it is still a wonderful moment. The perennial biblical image is of the inclusive meal, to which everyone is invited, especially the lowly, the blind, the lame. That is, the very "least" among us that the parable speaks of. Making sure everyone is invited and welcome is not easy. It is hard because it doesn’t just happen naturally. Left on our own, we will choose to be with our own. That is really what original sin is. We must intend true inclusion to happen.

The time honored example of this intentional inclusion is the church potluck supper. And this reminds me of a woman in my church in Vermont, a lady named Helena. I think I’ve mentioned her before. In a big city she would probably have been a bag lady, with the temperament and appearance you would associate with that label. Yet she was a very proud and independent person, as anyone who tried to "help" her found out to their extreme discomfort. She had a pretty blunt way of reminding you that she was a "human being," thank you, and not an object of anyone’s charity. She didn’t want help. She wanted to be respected and included. She would walk five miles to church in the wintriest, sub-zero temperature. And she was present at most meetings and events. She especially loved potluck suppers. And Helena never came empty-handed. Her special dish was always the same. It was a big bowl containing a mixture of canned corn and applesauce. I always made a point of putting some of it on my plate. Sometimes spreading it around. It wasn’t always easy. A lot of people did that and Helena’s dish got eaten. Mostly. Helena put us to the test, but there was always a place for her at the table.

Last Sunday Lois and I were out for the evening. When we got back I played a message on our answering machine at home. It was Linda, and the message went something like this. "Jim, this is Linda. I am over at the church with the youth group and it is about six-thirty. There is a man here who needs help. I don’t know what the church policy is about giving money, but I don’t have any. He says they need something to eat. Well, call me back if you get this message. Meanwhile, we have plenty of food here so I think we will just go ahead and give him and his family something to eat." So they did. Now I know that is not such a big deal really and it happens all the time. People are generous. What was moving to me in that was the simplicity and directness with which Linda managed the situation. No policy can ever mandate human kindness. Sure, we don’t give money out, etc., etc. But how wonderful it is in such a situation to simply say that people who are hungry, whoever they are, and for whatever reason, need to eat. We have plenty and what we have needs to be shared. That simple philosophy has kept the Shepherd’s Table viable for twenty years. Everybody gets served. It is the philosophy of the wonderful folks here who volunteer for Referral and Service here at CCC. It is the philosophy that allows Silver Spring Vision to welcome and engage the hardest to reach homeless, the folks nobody else will take. It is the philosophy of the Silver Spring Community Leadership Initiative, that Jackie Bahn-Henkelman and Jim Henkelman-Bahn have provided such important leadership for.

It is our Christian vision that the human family is invited to one big bountiful table. God provides. God invites. It is our responsibility to do the hard work to make sure that everybody is there. Amen.

Back to Table of Contents.