By The Rev. Deacon Christine McCloudMay the words of my mouth and the meditation of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight. All this we ask in the name of our God who created us, His Son who redeems us and the Spirit that makes us holy. Amen.
As we come to the end of our liturgical year, we pause and take this day to acknowledge and honor Jesus Christ as our king; to celebrate His victory over death and to examine what His authority over His kingdom means to us. We not only come to this day to celebrate the person and work of Christ, but we look to the absolute certainty that His continuing reign among us assures us of His everlasting peace and justice for all of His people.
Matthew’s Gospel brings us full circle from the Ezekiel reading. Ezekiel shares with us that God will take over as the shepherd of his sheep and that he will seek out and search for his sheep. God will gather them up and bring them to a safe place -- “their own land” -- from those places from which they had been scattered on the day of exile. And God gives his promise to find those who are lost; and to those injured, He will heal; and to those weak, He will strengthen. But, there is also some bad news to ponder. Ezekiel makes it clear as does the Gospel of Matthew, that there will be judgment by God on the last day. The entire flock, all of us, Ezekiel proclaims, will stand before God to be judged for the treatment of our fellow sheep.
There will be consequences for our actions and inactions. What is made clear in both the Old and New Testament readings is how we treat one another matters. But it’s important to understand that the readings today are not about a theology of works of righteousness. If we take the time to understand and put into context all of Jesus’ teachings, then what should emerge for us is that we do acts of love and compassion not to gain a room in the heavenly mansion. No. We do these things because of the One who loved us first. We do these things in response to what God has done for us through Christ. And because of God’s love, we should be absolutely impelled… driven without hesitation… to love others because there is absolutely no other way for us to respond to God’s powerful, transforming love.
Exactly who are the “least of these”? The Gospel tells us, “for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” Before we take the jump to look outside of ourselves to see who these “least” might be, I thought it would be best to stay right here -- within these walls -- and take a moment to identify with the “least” among us.
Many here at St. George’s understand what it means to be exiled. From family and friends; from co-workers, even our own Church communities and parts of the world, we have experienced and felt exile simply because we happen to be gay or lesbian. Others here who aren’t gay or lesbian also understand and have experienced exile for other reasons but imposed by and from many of the same entities. Most of us, if not each and everyone of us here, knows very intimately what it feels like to be naked and exposed -- to have our vulnerabilities sitting right out in the open -- because of the painful hurts and deep wounds inflicted and suffered at one time or another. Most of us have been thirsty for love, hungry for companionship, and to have a sense of belonging.
Who are the least of these that Jesus speaks of? It’s all of us in some way or another. Yes. Jesus speaks and identifies first with the poor, the weak, the sick, the lonely, the aged, the imprisoned -- but he also speaks of and to us. There were no outcasts in Jesus’ ministry -- there are no outcasts in His love for us. Each one of us who has experienced any kind of spiritual or emotional exile often find ourselves longing for the God who searches us out; we long for the God who heals our wounds; and we long for the God who restores us to new life in Him through Jesus.
At the end of our lives, it doesn’t matter if we lived a long life or a short one. In the end, it doesn’t matter whether or not we made a ton of money or we were the hottest personality around. In the end it only matters if we brought joy to those around us. In the end, it only matters if we gave what we had to better the life of someone else, known or unknown to us. Whether what we had to offer was clothing or food; to visit or care for someone who was sick or imprisoned; or to give the simple gift of a red tricycle to a homeless child living in a shelter.
For the past several weeks, I’ve been on a journey with a little 2½ year old boy that I personally never had the opportunity to meet in this life. But I have met him and have come to know him through God’s amazing grace. I have come to know him through his artwork that he and his mother Suzette did while he was in the hospital. I have come to know him through his father Miguel who read the most amazing love letter to him at his funeral right here at St. George’s not so long ago. I have come to know him through his grandmother Yolanda who made a promise to buy him a red tricycle for his 3rd birthday.
Gabriel left us at the tender age of 2½ years… just 17 days before his 3rd birthday. But oh sweet Jesus, what a life this child had! He was the absolute embodiment of love. He gave all that he had and all that he sought in return was the absolute love of those in his life and he received that love back from them in abundance. His short life was filled with the beauty of his artwork, the beauty of his joyful spirit, the beauty of his song and dance, the beauty of the love of his family -- a joy so absolutely fundamental to who he was, that his parents, Suzette and Miguel, stood right there; right there, next to his casket and did Gabriel’s “happy dance” during his funeral. My friends, I can’t even begin to express to you my feelings at seeing the both of them -- naked and exposed in their grief -- dancing for Gabriel, their most beloved son who they lost so early. That moment will forever remain in my thoughts and in my heart.
Gabriel left us far too soon, but his life will not be a story of only loss, or a story of God’s absence. His story is a story that his parents and grandparents are determined to write for him. His story will be one of kindness, generosity and love. A little later on during our service, Father Poppe will bless a tricycle in Gabriel’s name on behalf of another 3 year old child from Turning Point Community Services, the shelter program for women and children that I oversee and which Carla and I founded some years ago. It is my absolute honor to be able to accept that tricycle on behalf of Gabriel for this child. I am deeply touched and moved beyond words at the incredible act of unselfishness offered by Yolanda in her grief.
Because of a grandmother’s promise, 3 year old Iyanna will be able to know a different type of joy in her young life. She’ll ride around on that tricycle with exuberance, leaving her 3 year old worries and cares on the wayside. She’ll be able to dance the happy dance of playfulness and enthusiasm with her new bike. And why? Because of Gabriel.
On the 4th Sunday of Advent, we will hear in Luke’s Gospel how God sent His angel, Gabriel to visit Mary and to tell her of her favored status with God and that she would bear a son. The word angel means messenger. I truly believe that our Gabriel is a messenger sent from God; sent to teach us what life can be like. A life lived in full abundance -- full of creativity, hope and joy -- a life that touches the lives of others with grace, wonder and possibility. Can any one of us aspire to more than this in our more advanced years? You see, it really doesn’t matter if we live long or short lives.
Mother Teresa said: “We can do no great things for God, but we can do small things with great love.” This small gift from a small boy’s grandmother is a gift of that great love. Yolanda’s love for Gabriel as well as Miguel and Suzette’s love for him and Gabriel’s love for them, issues forth in love for every parent, for every grandparent, for every aunt and uncle and cousin, for every godparent, and every child because they know -- they know as we should know -- just how special and irreplaceable each and every person is.
Each one of us here today is that irreplaceable. Each one of us here today is that loved. God loves each one of us equally. He loves us so completely and calls us to love one another as He loves us. There is no “us” and “them” -- there is only “us”. There is no “we” and “they”. There is only “we” -- one family, cradled under one God, each one of us brother and sister to the other in Christ just as Gabriel is now a brother to Iyanna and who will watch over her as she races around the shelter on that little red tricycle and as he will watch over every other child that comes through our doors. The least of us -- the hungry, sick, naked, poor -- we are siblings to them all. How will we love them? How will we love us?
In the end, it won’t matter if we lived long lives or short. It won’t matter if we made a fortune or lost a fortune; it won’t matter if we built the biggest house in the universe or if we lost our home. What will matter: did we take the opportunity to share what was ours and share it in love? Did we recognize and understand that we are so inextricably bound to one another that our caring for our neighbor is caring for God Himself and that this is always our calling? Did we take any risks -- did we step out in faith -- to help another?
Jesus tells us: “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these, you did it to me.”
Amen.
© 2008 The Rev. Deacon Christine McCloud
Posts
