[Propertalk] Proper 29a

[robertpmorrison at charter.net]

Here's what I've been looking at for a couple of days or so. No doubt 
I'll stare at it some more and play with it before Sunday.

Happy celebrating!

Bob

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN, ALBANY THE LAST SUNDAY AFTER 
PENTECOST:          CHRIST THE KING – A
EZEKIEL 34:11-16, 20-24	 	           		          		            PROPER 29 
A
EPHESIANS 1:15-23				 
20th NOVEMBER, 2011
MATTHEW 25:31-46						                                 PSALM 100

	I remember being surprised, and somewhat jealous. A young friend, a 
sophomore at Portland State University, was invited to The White House – 
to be a member of a select group of people, actually to participate in 
the special celebrations connected with the Inauguration of President 
Jimmy Carter. I wondered what was happening that such a person, a 
student at what is a good University, but far from one of the top-flight 
ones in the country; I wondered what Craig had done to merit such an 
invitation. Apparently it didn’t seem to matter what his background, 
what his education, something triggered the invitation, and off he went.

	Regardless of one’s feelings about which incumbent is in The White 
House, I’d experience a certain amount of awe at being there – checking 
out where the British lit their fire a couple of hundred years ago, 
looking at chairs made and sat in by John Adams. Being in the same room 
with someone who has been elected – or appointed – to high office, and 
has had trust placed in her or him – I find it all fascinating. I wonder 
who’s been there before me, and who might come after me.

	And I wonder if someone will come along later – say in twenty of thirty 
years from now, and look to see where Craig sat, and what he did, and 
what he saw.

	Hardly likely, after all, who’s heard of Craig. Yet someone sought him 
out, someone on the President-elect’s staff. Someone sent him that 
invitation, gathered him with others and arranged for his stay in the 
nation’s capital.

	This sounds a bit like the story in the first reading this morning. God 
will participate personally in calling together sheep from all over 
creation – no city too large or village too small, no farm too remote – 
ALL sheep will be called into the one fold, to mingle together to become 
part of a joyous celebration at which God will play host and ensure that 
no sheep is left out, or put in any sort of danger.

	It’s a marvellous picture. Transfer it to humans for a moment – and 
that’s how the prophet wishes us to understand the parable – think of 
this in human terms and it means that country of origin, status of 
residency, economic background, political affiliation – none of these 
will have the slightest bearing on the fact that God wishes to draw 
everyone together.

	But to our possible discredit, it WILL matter that God is interested in 
those who have been side-lined, intentionally or unintentionally. It’s 
all about responsibility.

	As we come today to celebrate the reign of Jesus as King over all we 
come to the climax of the church year with some of scariest of scripture 
readings. They’ve been getting more and more blunt this past month as 
pictures of God’s reign have been presented. Now we come to the 
summation. This is what last Christmas pointed to. This is what Ash 
Wednesday and lent, and Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter drew our 
attention to. This is what Pentecost was all about – how well do you and 
I behave.

	Once again, there’s no problem with God. God’s fine. God’s continuing 
to be compassionate, and loving, and merciful. But God is, say the 
various writers of scripture, God is also just. And that’s where the 
problem lies. If we believe that God is going to bend over backwards to 
do everything possible to bring us into the celebration of life in all 
its fullness, then WE’RE supposed to bend over backwards just as far to 
make sure that everyone else gets to hear about and participate in the 
celebration also. Perhaps like my friend Craig – EVERYONE is to get a 
hand-engraved invitation to go to that party!

	What’s wrong with fat sheep, though? I LOVE fat sheep. Their wool is 
thick and curly, and can provide the means for me to be warm in those 
cold mornings. Their fat, drawing sweetness from the sheep’s bones, 
infuses through the delicious meat so that it’s juicy and the perfect 
complement to mint jelly, and potatoes, and carrots and beans.

	What’s not to like about fat sheep?

	Well, it seems that they’re criticized so severely because somehow they 
didn’t look out for the whole flock. Some sheep were unable to get to 
the good pastures; some were kept on such rocky ground that they were 
severely injured. And Ezekial lays this squarely on the haunches of the 
fat sheep – the ones too busy eating the best young shoots to be 
bothered to notice whether or not the others had anything to eat and 
weren’t in danger.

	All this is about the reign of God? The prophets and Jesus were 
kidding, right?

	Well, unfortunately they weren’t. Sheep, of course only have sense when 
they come to having two minds each animal whenever a collie comes near. 
Past that, trying to get the better of the dog, and sheep don’t seem to 
have much of a notion beyond themselves. So why does the Bible talk time 
and again about the Ruler of the Universe being a shepherd, and of the 
inhabitants of the universe as being sheep? Probably because, nine times 
out of ten, most of us don’t really have the sense to get in out of the 
rain to keep ourselves dry never mind look out for the rest of the 
flock. After that, though, the analogy may begin to break down.

	So what does this say about humans, and about us, specifically? What 
does it say about the reign of God and of the Leadership of Jesus?

	Here’s where the Gospel parable and the prophetic parable mesh 
together. We can’t participate in the celebration of God’s sovereignty 
unless it’s done in the company of others – lots of them! There’s no 
participation either if we haul the others in bleeding, and panting, and 
uncared for and haven’t done anything to try to protect them

	I wonder what each of us in this room feel about the people all around 
the world participating in the various “Occupy” gatherings that are 
creating tension right now.

	Well, I’ve got some really good news for all of us. It doesn’t matter a 
bit what we think of them. We can get to know their names, or not. We 
can shake our heads and mutter a few unchurchy epithets about them. We 
can symathise with the way in which many of these people are there in 
various public spaces and have practically all their worldly possessions 
with them in the few square feet they occupy. Still, it doesn’t matter 
at all what we think of them; but it matters absolutely what we do about 
them; unless, of course, we don’t mind getting the old heave-ho from 
Jesus.

	There’s the royal pain about this Sunday. Entry into the celebration 
with Jesus, like so many of these events of which we read, isn’t by paid 
ticket. It’s much closer to the announcement that entry is by bringing a 
can, or two, or three, of food and some dry goods. And by taking along 
some Neosporin, and gauze, and elastic bandages; and bottles of water; 
maybe even a spare sleeping bag.

	I’ve forgotten which night it was during our diocesan convention last 
week, I think it was Friday, I’d been enjoying a friend’s company and 
was walking past one of the tree-dotted areas near Willamette University 
and the State Capitol. From the inside edge of the sidewalk near the 
grass a man came out towards me, walking slowly. I’m used to this 
happening and he didn’t look menacing in the least, so I wasn’t 
bothered. It was obvious he wanted to say something and our eyes met. He 
didn’t ask for the expected, though – a dollar for coffee, five fir a 
drink, a room for the night – whatever I thought might come from him 
didn’t. What he DID say took me by surprise.

	He turned to look over his shoulder and he said that he had two 
friends, a couple, I’d guess between twenty and twenty five. He said 
they were having a tough time.

	Remember, it was cold – fog gathers at night in the hollows of Salem, 
and it must have been barely forty degrees.

	The first man said, “Would you pray for this man and this woman?”

	He didn’t say, “Can you put them up somewhere?” He didn’t ask that I 
find an all-night café. He asked if I’d pray for them. Another man came 
up and there we were, six of us, holding hands in the cold on the 
sidewalk, asking the name of the man and woman, and praying that God 
would bless them, look after them, help them to interact with others 
who’d be able to meet their comfort needs, whatever they might be.

	Who knows, maybe that first man who approached me was the Shepherd. 
Maybe He was gathering up a couple of sheep who’d become separated from 
the rest of the flock. Whoever He was, He wanted to make sure that that 
young couple wouldn’t go to bed, wherever that might be, unblessed, 
uncared for, unremembered.

	There WERE other people around. Not that far away there were little 
two-person tents, some with lights inside them. There was the smell of 
warm food in the air. But the Man said that His friends needed to know 
that they belonged, that someone would remember them that night, not 
just as we stood at the side of the road, but as I drove on down I-5, 
and got into my home in Albany, and climbed into bed and read my prayers 
– that young woman, that young man WERE remembered. They’re STILL 
remembered. And not just by me.

	Ezekiel and Jesus both – they made it absolutely clear that God knows 
that couple. The point was – the point remains – will I continue to 
remember them, and their brothers and sisters here in Albany?

	I’d better! So should you remember the sisters and brothers on street 
corners, and thrift shop lines, and wandering down the aisles at 
Goodwill, and standing at the food table at St Mary’s before sitting 
down to eat – oh, and don’t forget Wednesday night as we eat pies and 
drink tea or coffee, and laugh and joke after the Thanksgiving eve 
service at Good Shepherd down the street on 34th. And don’t forget any 
of their friends on Thursday either!

	As often as we squirm about the thought of earning our way into God’s 
good graces – something that’s not accepted as sound doctrine – as often 
as say that we can’t buy God’s favour, the readings for this, the very 
last Sunday of the Church year, the readings inspired by God’s Spirit 
maker it abundantly clear that if we don’;t slow down for the others 
around us; if we don’t give them the opportunity to address us; if we 
don’t visit them when they can’t come to us; if we don’t – if we don’t 
even pray for them – then it sounds as if we’d better have reservations 
for ourselves someplace else, because Jesus isn’t going to be too happy!

	Of course, we can’t BUY anything to make sure we’re right with God. But 
neither can we be right with God unless our neghbour, and that other 
neighbour, and the person down the street – unless they’re all there 
with us because we’ve taken the time to be there for them. Because, 
after all, we may not be there if it weren’t for others being there for 
us.

	Oh, and that fat sheep? And my somewhat anonymous friend Craig; and 
that couple in downtown Salem? They’re invited too – all of them – to 
celebrate with God. All that each of us has to do is to remember that 
we’re part of an ever-expanding community.

	And that is the somewhat disturbing Good News for this morning.



Robert P Morrison
Interim Vicar
The Episcopal Church of St Alban
PO Box 1556
Albany OR  97321   541-921-1076 (cell)