“THE LEAST
OF THESE”
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A sermon preached Readings Ezekiel
34:11-16, 20-24, Matthew 25:31-46 |
“I was naked
and you clothed me,
I was sick and you looked after me,
I was in prison and you visited me” (Mt
25:36)
This is
the start of Prisons Week –
a
week when traditionally we pray
for
all who live or work in our prisons,
and for all involved in our criminal justice system.
We think
of the police, prison officers; and prison chaplains.
We think
of the victims of crime
We think
of the prisoners’ families and those they visit.
All need
our love and prayer.
Of course
as our thoughts turn to criminal justice matters,
we cannot this weekend but think about
the murder on the
streets of Bradford.
How do you tell a 4 year old on her birthday
that has mother has been murdered ?
How should
we respond to those
who cause such pain and suffering to others?
I don’t know if anyone has seen the movie
“The
Interpreter” which came out earlier this year.
It’s a thriller set in the United Nations,
but it also deals with issues of
justice, retribution and forgiveness.
In a key passage, one of the UN interpreters
(played by Nichole Kidman),
explains how her African village
traditionally dealt with murderers.
If caught, she says,
the murderer is sentenced to a public drowning,
with the victim’s family in attendance.
The murderer has his hands tied
and is then thrown into the river.
As he sinks beneath the water,
the family of the victim has two choices –
(1) let the murderer drown, or
(2) dive into the water and save him.
It is entirely their choice – justice or mercy.
Different characters in the film
wrestle with the same problem as they come to terms
with their own sense of loss and tragedy.
The character played by Sean Penn says at one
point –
“If the man who killed my wife was drowning
I wouldn’t save him – indeed I’d hold his head under the water”
Those of us who have not suffered violent and savage bereavements
are perhaps not the best ones to comment on this –
maybe everyone at those times needs space to scream
and call down vengeance from the gods….
But the African villagers by the river commented that ultimately
“Vengeance is a lazy form of grief”
And at the end of the day,
I suspect we all know deep in our hearts
that an inability to forgive ultimately means that we too
become victims of the crime, unable to move beyond it.
If we believe the tabloid press,
there is a certain category of prisoner –
violent paedophiles and others –
Myra Hindley was always there –
who should be consigned as the least and lowest of the low
to a sort of 7th tier of hell –
beyond hope, redemption, love or pity.
But
Christ tells us there is another way if we can find it –
the way of the cross –
the way of valuing and cherishing life
even in the face of the deepest loss, violence and depravity.
Time and
again Christian history witnesses to that.
Take for example a story from the life of Corrie ten Boom
–
she was sent with her sister Betsie
to a Nazi Concentration Camp for helping the Jews.
She describes watching horrified with her sister
as a Camp Matron brutally beats one of their fellow prisoners.
“Oh the poor woman” says Corrie.
“Yes” says her sister, “May God forgive her” -
And Corrie realizes that it was for
the souls of the brutal guards that her sister was praying.
(Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place, H&S 1971)
Personally, I remember several years ago
taking the funeral of a young man
who had been stabbed in a house near one of my Churches.
I remember talking to the mother of the boy –
How do you feel about the man who killed your son? I asked.
She thought for a moment, then said quietly –
“Well, he must have a mother too”
The way
of love and compassion
may sometimes be a hard road to find
when you are lost in the valley of bitterness or despair
It can also be a hard road to find
when we allow ourselves to become
self righteous and judgemental.
But it is
God’s road,
and if we will take it, we will find him there.
·
Today,
those of you who are Pastoral Visitors
come to rededicate yourselves for your work.
We will ask God’s blessing on you in your pastoral role.
May God give you strength
to stand alongside those you care for,
whoever and wherever they may be
·
Today
is also Samuel Ho’s last joint English/Korean service..
Ho, we wish you God’s blessing in your new work back in Korea.
May the Spirit guide you
as you continue your pastoral work elsewhere.
·
But
Pastoral care is not just the preserve
of the ordained ministers or officially appointed Pastoral Visitors –
we are all called by God to exercise a ministry of love and pastoral care.
A Pastor is of course another word for a Shepherd –
we are all called to care for God’s flock.
So today
We are
all called to be Pastors, Shepherds of the Sheep.
We are not called to look after 9 out of 10 sheep –
We are
not called to look after 99 out of 100 sheep.
We follow
a shepherd who gave up on no one,
who
never stopped loving anyone,
who was not content until the 100th sheep was safely gathered
in.
We are
not called to discriminate and pick and choose
as to who are good or bad, fat or the thin, –
we are not called to look after some, give up on others.
We are certainly
not called to separate sheep and goats –
if anyone does that it will be God not us.
And (as I was saying in a sermon on
judgement 2 weeks ago)
we trust in God’s immense
and unfathomable love on the last day to do that
in such a way that all may know his love as judgement,
but all may also ultimately know his judgement as love.
Meanwhile
we are called to care for all God’s children -
to pull even the most undeserving sinner from the waters of death.
And if we
do heed that call, God will go with us –
indeed we will find God there before us
alongside the needy and the outcast,
the marginalised and the sinful,
waiting for us to join him.
A final story.
Once upon a time there was an old lady
who went every day to say her prayers in the chapel.
Everyday she passed
children and neighbours and beggars in the street,
but she did not even see them,
so intent was she on her devotions.
Then one day she reached the chapel
and found the door locked.
Distressed at the thought that she would miss the service
for the first time in years and not knowing what to do,
she looked up.
And there, right before her face,
she found a note pinned to the door.
It said: “I’m out there”
(Anthony de Mello, ed. William Dych,
Orbis 1999 p.84)
And they will say
“Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you,
or thirsty and give you something to drink?
38When did we see you a stranger and invite you in,
or needing clothes and clothe you?
39When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?”
40The
King will reply,
“I tell you the truth, whatever you did
for one of the least of these brothers of mine,
you did for me.”