The Invisible Christ
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger Gaines-Cirelli at St. Matthew’s UMC November 20, 201l, Reign of Christ Sunday.
Text: Matthew 25:31-46
When I sat down to write this week, I had a plan—a plan for how to present our Gospel text this morning in a way that might open our eyes to some of what we need to see. Let me tell you about my planned approach. Many years ago, following a Bible Study on this passage, one of the members of the study group sent me a newspaper blurb that seemed to connect to what we had discussed in class. It was part of an interview with political scientist and economist, Francis Fukuyama in which Fukuyama said, “Economists have this notion that people seek utility, which for most economists has to do with the satisfaction of various desires or money income…there’s actually a more complex psychology involved. In some cases we do want resources, but in many other cases what we want is the…esteem of another human being that recognizes your dignity… The reason…poverty is humiliating is that the poor man is invisible to his fellow man and is not recognized as another human being.”#
I was going to point out that when Jesus speaks of “the least” or “the little ones” he is talking about those who are vulnerable, those who are weak because of their situation, those who are at the mercy of others’ care and generosity, those who cannot survive without help and support. My plan was to point out that in our Gospel text we have Jesus saying that he is hidden, if you will, in those who are vulnerable—the hungry, thirsty, stranger, homeless, sick, and imprisoned. In essence, Jesus tells us that he is invisible. The connection and challenge for me—and therefore, the connection and challenge I planned to share with you—is that as I pondered the words of Francis Fukuyama, that “the poor man is invisible to his fellow man and is not recognized as another human being,” I began to see that applying the lesson of today’s Gospel passage was going to be much more difficult than I thought. We might easily acknowledge that when we SEE someone homeless, sick, imprisoned, etc. we are encountering Christ. This is something that is challenging to remember and respond to in and of itself. But the point seems to be that the invisible Christ is present all the time not only or primarily in the people I SEE but in those that I DON’T see, that I don’t notice, that I ignore—voluntarily or involuntarily. The invisible Christ is present to us in invisible people, or people who are invisible to us.
Do you see how difficult this makes things? I mean it’s hard enough to find a way to respond with love and care when we see the need…but how do we even begin to respond if we can’t see what or who is there? This was going to be my trajectory for today’s message. There’s a lot there to think about—certainly enough to fill 15 minutes. But as I pondered and prayed, I was startled by a question that seemed to come from nowhere: “Do you want to be my friend?”
You see, in my research, I came across a talk given by Jean Vanier, a Canadian Catholic philosopher, humanitarian and the founder of L’Arche, an international organization which creates communities where people with developmental disabilities and those who assist them share life together. I knew of Vanier through conversations with Anthony and a group of friends with whom Anthony and I regularly spend time. Jean Vanier challenges and inspires me as his witness of solidarity with those whom society so often deems “useless” runs counter to the prevailing ways of the world. In the piece I found, Vanier speaks about how, in his encounter with mentally and physically disabled persons, the questions he hears are “Do you love me?” and “Do you want to be my friend?” What began as a somewhat casual reading of online resources turned into a moment of revelation. Something about reading those questions pierced my heart. I began to connect the presence of the invisible Christ with those all around me who are asking me, “Do you want to be my friend?”…And I began to think about the fact that I may not even be aware of them; I may not SEE them. Or, perhaps I see shadows and hear echoes of these questions—in comments and stories shared by some of you, and in the statistics readily available about poverty, domestic abuse, drug and alcohol abuse among teenagers in Bowie, depression and suicide rates among gay and lesbian teens, discrimination toward immigrants, lack of support and resources for ex-offenders, and on it goes. Perhaps the shadows and echoes are the voice of Christ… “Do you love me? Do you want to be my friend?”…perhaps Christ is moving in and out of this community every week and I don’t even see…Such thoughts break my heart. But part of the good news today is that, as those who have heard the teachings of Jesus in the Gospel, we know that we have a vision problem, we know that we need help to see the invisible Christ. This knowledge is good news because it means we can ask God to help us, we can pray for eyes to see and ears to hear and hearts to respond in concrete acts of care and solidarity.
God is the one who opened Vanier’s eyes to those with whom he was called to share life. Vanier shares about his first experience of living in community with a couple of men who had been previously living in institutions. He says, “We began to live together. I did the cooking, so we didn’t eat very well! We did everything together. We cooked, we worked in the garden together, we fought together, we prayed together, we forgave each other. And so, a whole sort of journey began. I began by thinking that I could do good for them, but then as the days and then the months moved on I began to discover, little by little, what they were doing for me – transforming me, changing me. I thought I was going to teach them something and suddenly I was discovering that they were teaching me quite a bit.
When Jesus says, ‘Whoever welcomes one of these little ones in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes…the one who sent me’ – when Jesus says, ‘I was in prison and you visited me, I was sick and you visited me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me to drink, I was a stranger, I was strange, I was different, and you welcomed me’ – it’s really true. I never knew this. I mean, I’d read it in the gospels but I didn’t know what it meant and I’m not sure that I really believed it. I’m beginning to realize that if Christians believed in Jesus hidden in the poor the world would change.”#
He goes on to describe some of what that change can look like. And, for me, Vanier’s description of life together and its transformative power is one of the best I’ve read of what the reign of Christ, or the Kingdom of God, looks, feels, and acts like. He says, “The handicapped person – Eric – is very different from myself. Eric with his blindness, with his deafness, with his brokenness, and yet Eric has something to tell me. Though he can’t speak his body can speak. Somewhere [I] discover what non-verbal language is…and then… discover that Eric is very like myself and I am like him. We are different in many ways…but yet, he is revealing to me that his heart is like my heart. He wants to be loved and I want to be loved and that’s what both of us need. Love is not just to do something for someone – love is not a sort of sentimentality and kissing each other and so on. Love is to enter into covenant – to know that you accept me as I am, that you see my gift, but also that you see my wound. That you won’t abandon me when you see my wound, that you won’t just flatter me when you see my gift. But you accept me as I am with all that is fragile, all that is broken, all that is beautiful, too.
Then to discover that we can do this – not just you and I – but in a community where we accept each other as we are. Then the extraordinary thing is we can let down barriers, we don’t have to prove [ourselves], I don’t have to pretend I’m better than you are, I’m allowed to be myself. I’m allowed to be myself because you love me.
And then [I] discover that in your love you are liberating me, in your love there is a presence of Christ. That Jesus is present, and that he’s truly present, and your love is also a sign of the presence of God. And that you love me not because I am going to give you something, that you love me not because you put me on the pedestal, but because in some way we’re the same humanity, we belong to the same humanity… we are brothers and sisters together and we’ve been joined by Christ…”#
This is a vision of life when Christ reigns. What if each one of us began to try to see with new eyes, to listen for the voices of those who call out for love and friendship—those who are different from us, those with whom communication is difficult, those who confuse or confound us, those whom we tend to pass over, pass by, overlook? This might be someone in our workplace or church, it might be whole groups of people in our community or world who need us to respond with true solidarity and friendship. I believe that there are people, young and old and right in our backyards, who are crying out for some authentic connection, for friendship, for meaning, for love. What if we were to really try to see, to listen, to respond—not just from a distance, but with our lives, through sharing ourselves in real relationship?
And here we get back to the good news for the day—the promise of the Gospel. As Jesus says in the scriptures, anyone can be kind to those who are kind, can give when reciprocation is assured, can care when needs are clearly seen, can include those who are familiar and fun, can love—as Vanier says—“those in the same club.” But as followers of Jesus we are called to something more than that—and it is both difficult and the greatest gift of all. Our call is to live in the kingdom of God where Christ truly reigns. The gift—the promise!—begins when the Spirit of God helps us enter the kingdom, to do the risky thing. The gift opens as we are changed and transformed. Vanier says, “The whole of the mystery of Christ is to change us so that we become the face of Jesus, we become the hands of Jesus, that we become the heart of Jesus, that our body becomes the body of Christ, that our words become the words of Christ. That’s the mystery – that he gives us his Spirit so we can continue this work of peacemaking, so we can be Jesus to reconcile others to this world.”# In other words, if we seek God’s Kingdom and God’s righteousness, we will be given eyes to see, ears to hear, hands to reach out in loving kindness, hearts to break so completely that compassion flows freely. God will transform our lives so that the love of Jesus Christ rules all our thoughts and deeds.
Today, Jesus is asking “Do you want to be my friend?” This is the question I didn’t plan to hear as I laid out my sermon outline. But, by the grace of God, the invisible Christ called out to me in the question in a way that I began to hear… And I believe that we all need to listen for this question. It is the question that invites us to enter the Kingdom of God where Jesus Christ reigns. Who do you suppose is asking you that question today? Who is asking us as the church, “Do you love me? Will you care? Will you be my friend?” The invisible Christ is found anywhere those questions resound. See…listen…and choose how you will respond—because your response will change the world.
