When Did We See You?
Scripture Reading: Matthew 25:31-46
What does Jesus look like? It’s interesting that we have four Gospels that tell the story of Jesus’s public ministry, but in those four Gospels not one of the Gospel writers devotes a single verse to describing Jesus’s physical appearance. We don’t know how tall he was, the tone of his complexion, whether his hair was straight, wavy, or curly, or really anything at all about what he looked like. Yet that hasn’t prevented artists from depicting Jesus in all kinds of visual media, including in our own stained-glass windows.
In my wanderings up and down the church I’ve come across a few paintings of Jesus that I found laying about. Are you ready for some show and tell? I bet that you’ve all seen this first painting, if not here then in some other church. There’s probably not a church in North America that doesn’t have this portrait of Jesus hanging in a hallway, stairwell, or in the pastor’s office. More than 500 million copies of it have been sold all around the world. I know that I saw it several times in South Korea.
For millions of Americans this painting has shaped their understanding of what Jesus may have looked like. To be sure, he looks handsome. He has a well proportioned face with chiseled features but sensitive eyes that give him an otherworldly appearance. His skin is fair and his hair appears to be a golden brown. He looks kind of Scandinavian. That could be because the artist behind this painting, Warner Sallman, had parents who were immigrants from Sweden and Finland. If Charlton Heston can pass for Moses, then I suppose Jesus can look Scandinavian.
Here is something radically different. It’s called the Black Madonna and features the Virgin Mary holding the infant Jesus. Perhaps the most striking feature of this painting, as the name suggests, is the dark-skinned appearance of Jesus and Mary. This is not some recent reimagining of Jesus and Mary but a tradition with an ancient history. Multiple versions of this religious icon exist all over the world and for centuries have been objects of devotion in many Orthodox churches.
There’s still another image of Christ that I wish I could show you, but I don’t have a physical copy of it. The 20th-century Korean artist Kim Ki-Chang painted numerous scenes from the Gospels in which he depicted Jesus and his disciples as Korean men of the Joseon Dynasty wearing the traditional Korean garment known as the hanbok.
No matter our culture, there’s something comforting about seeing Jesus depicted as one of us, as something familiar, as someone whom we’d instantly recognize if we saw him on the street, at the post office, or in the grocery store. But this passage is about how we encounter Jesus among people and in places where we might not expect to find him. Interestingly, in today’s passage both the sheep and the goats are surprised to learn that Jesus could be found among the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, and the incarcerated. When the sheep showed mercy, and when the goats did not show mercy, neither knew that they were helping or ignoring the Lord himself.
Despite the fact that you see a Christmas tree to my left and a crèche set up in the back, the first Sunday of Advent is not until next week. However, because the annual Haverstraw holiday concert is this Saturday, we decided to go green a week early. On the Christian calendar the Sunday before Advent, which is to say today, is known as Christ the King Sunday or Reign of Christ Sunday. It’s a transitional day, marking the end of the church year while looking forward to the new year that begins with Advent. It also reminds us that the same Jesus who was crucified, died, and was buried now reigns as King of kings and Lord of lords for all eternity.
Being sovereign over all things, Christ alone has the authority to judge sinners. His truth judges all falsehood; his wisdom judges all foolishness; his goodness judges all wickedness. This passage, despite the pastoral imagery of a shepherd and sheep and goats, is as much prophecy as it is parable. In it Jesus speaks of the final judgment that will occur when the Son of Man comes in his glory with all his attendant angels and sits on the throne of his glory before all the nations.
In addition to marking the Reign of Christ, this Sunday also marks our final reading from the Gospel of Matthew. At last! We began this journey through Matthew back in early June, nearly six months ago. In our staying with the Gospel readings each week, for the most part, my hope is that you’ve gotten somewhat of a sense of what it’s like to walk alongside Jesus as a disciple.
In this Gospel we’ve heard Jesus tell numerous parables describing what the kingdom of heaven is like. We’ve seen the disciples often misunderstand Jesus, as they sought to reconcile their own glorious ambitions for Jesus with the reality of his mission of self-sacrifice. And we’ve seen Jesus make many enemies along the way, particularly among the politically powerful and the religious establishment.
Now things all come to a head here in chapter 25, for immediately following this passage, the religious establishment will plot to have Jesus killed. It’s not hard to imagine why they would be upset with him, not only because of what he says here, but for how his words here summarize the subversiveness of his message and his ministry ever since he emerged from the Jordan River after being baptized by John. All along the way Jesus has subverted expectations and upset the status quo.
He taught that the kingdom of God is not like a towering mountain that scrapes the sky but more like a minuscule mustard seed, something that starts off so small as to be unnoticeable.
In blessing a Canaanite woman, a member of a despised foreign people, Jesus taught his disciples that in the kingdom of heaven outsiders are welcomed as insiders, and that when it comes to the gospel, there are no outsiders.
With the parable of the workers in the vineyard, he taught that grace is not something earned through human effort but a gift bestowed by an exceedingly generous God to the undeserving.
And ever since arriving in Jerusalem back in chapter 21, Jesus has called into question the hearts of the religious leaders, who have shown themselves to care more about drawing attention to themselves than tending to the needs of the people.
Now in this last parable, in his last public appearance before he will be paraded before the crowds at his crucifixion, Jesus offers up a final lesson on God’s subversive grace for sinners. That’s right, this parable, despite its seeming insistence that what we do matters most, is really not about us and the good deeds that we do or that we neglect to do, but rather it’s about what God does for us through Jesus Christ…yet again.
It would be easy to preach this passage as a morality play, something like this. “You see, there are two kinds of people: some people are sheep. They do what is pleasing in God’s sight. They show mercy to the poor. They feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, care for the sick, and other such good deeds. And then there are goats, i..e., people who show no mercy to the poor, who turn a blind eye to the hungry, the stranger, the sick, and so forth. Now, do you want to be a sheep or a goat? Do you want to receive God’s favor or not? Yes? Then do good deeds. Be compassionate. Be merciful. The end.”
I mean, I’m not suggesting that you should not be compassionate and merciful wherever you see need. I’m just saying, that’s not the gospel. There are lots of charities—even secular ones—that do exactly that, whose mission is to feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, and care for the sick. But the Church is not a charity. God did not send his Son into the world to start a charity but to save the world from the power of sin and death. And the primary task of the Church is to proclaim the gospel, which is God’s saving power for everyone who trusts him.
What distinguishes the sheep from the goats is not whether they treat the poor with compassion but whether they trust their shepherd.
Trust. That is the key of this passage. What distinguishes the sheep from the goats is not whether they treat the poor with compassion but whether they trust their shepherd. The sheep seem to have an implicit, even unconscious, trust of the shepherd. I use words like “implicit” and “unconscious” because the sheep are genuinely surprised to learn that in showing compassion to “the least of these,” they were doing so to Jesus himself. “When did we see you hungry and gave you food or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?”
They honestly don’t know! Their compassion was not motivated by a need to do good works to prove their worthiness to the shepherd or by a desire to be rewarded. Their compassion sprang naturally from their trust in their good shepherd, who it turns out they knew all along, because he was among the hungry, thirsty, stranger, naked, sick, and incarcerated. “As you did it to the least of these, you did it to me.”
The reverse is true of the goats. They appear to have no relationship with, or trust in, their shepherd. “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?” Just like the sheep, the goats are also surprised that they somehow did not recognize their shepherd. But what they are really saying is, If only we had known that it was you who was hungry or thirsty or sick or in prison, then we would’ve done our duty. If only we had known that we would get credit. We didn’t know you were keeping score!
But that’s just it: Jesus isn’t keeping score. Jesus doesn’t need our good works. Jesus wants us to trust him.
But that’s just it: Jesus isn’t keeping score. Jesus doesn’t need our good works. Jesus wants us to trust him. And those who trust in Jesus wind up encountering him in the most surprising places: a homeless shelter, a border crossing, a methadone clinic, a maximum-security wing, or beside a dumpster.
I’m going to end by sharing a story that I recently read on the platform formerly known as Twitter, now simply X. It’s from a religious scholar and pastor named Chad Bird. He shared this story last week.
“I heard one of the shortest but most memorable sermons not from a pulpit but from beside a dumpster. I had pulled my semi up behind a convenience store to grab a cup of coffee. As I climbed out of the truck, a woman walked up to me. Her face burned a deep brown. Stained jeans and sockless shoes and weary eyes. “Sir,” she said, “I hate to bother you, but can you help me?” Pointing over her shoulder, she said her husband was in the dumpster. They were hungry and he was digging for food. Could I give them anything?
“When I came out of the store a few minutes later, she and her husband were standing beside my truck. I handed them the two submarine sandwiches I’d bought inside. The man took them, handed them to his wife, and stretched out his hand. I shook it, feeling the grime and grease of the dumpster on his palm. On his weathered face glowed a gratitude more profound than anything I’ve ever witnessed. “Thank you, sir,” he said, “thank you so much. We don’t have hardly nothing. Just got to town a few nights ago. Been sleeping under the bridge over there. But God, he always seems to send people to help us out. Jesus been good to us that way. He always provides.” And thanking me again, they walked away, out of my life, but never from my memory and gratitude.
“A man who had no address, no car, no savings account, who was about to eat out of a trash can—he told me that “Jesus been good to us that way.”
“Every time I think of that dumpster sermon, uttered by a homeless prophet, I remind myself that wisdom lurks in the outer places. Rich gratitude among the impoverished and forgotten. Jesus been good to us that way. Yes, he has. And Jesus was good to me in sending that man into my life for a few brief moments. He reminded me that God has friends in low places. In low places profound faith flourishes. And from those low places resounds the voice of God from the lips of his people.”