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Homilies by Rev. Andrew Collis unless indicated otherwise.
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South Sydney Uniting Church
November 26, 2017
Psalm 100; Ephesians 1:15-23; Matthew 25:31-46
‘We all wear the same thorny crown’
Last week’s homily concluded with reference to this week’s Gospel. The conclusion bears repeating. The God of love calls us into a kindom of peace where the hungry are fed, the thirsty are given something to drink, strangers are made welcome, the naked are clothed, and those who are ill or imprisoned (or in any way afflicted, in any way suffering in darkness) are visited with kindness – loving-
We offer our love, in the mode of prayer, for victims of a coordinated attack on worshipers at the Sufi mosque in the Sinai Peninsula. We offer our love to their families, to the people and government of Egypt.
May the God of love draw us more deeply into a place of hospitality and dignity. Not without challenge or cost. The crown of thorns is the symbol for us today. God be with you ...
We bow to the One who lives and dies in the Spirit of a kindom – a sharing, a collaboration, an egalitarianism, a peace with justice. As the body of Christ (Ephesians 1:23) we offer hospitality and confer dignity, in his name. His presence as pattern of our common life encourages hope in us, even as it heightens for us a sense of “unfinished business” – the world is not yet the promised kindom ...
Bob Dylan sings:
“The midnight rain follows the train
We all wear the same thorny crown
Soul to soul, our shadows roll
And I’ll be with you when the deal goes down”
(Modern Times, 2006).
Today’s Gospel reading from Matthew 25 might be seen as Christ present in the six-
And yet, the text is also like Christ in its vulnerability. It’s a fragile text. The marks of the thorns might be seen in at least three places – at three points of vulnerability or ambiguity in the text. These are points of pain/discomfort and also promise …
The first point has to do with nations under judgement – nations comprising communities and individuals; the second point has to do with fiery judgement and ministry to those who suffer; and the third point has to do with Christianity and secular or common humanity.
In each case, we are drawn to a point of tension – not a problem to be solved so much as a mystery to be lived.
In verse 32 we read that the Ruler is seated upon the royal throne and “all the nations” are assembled below. The works of mercy are performed or not performed by nations, or so it seems. It could be that groups within the nations are lauded for their works of mercy. It could be that individuals are praised or criticised.
There is opportunity to involve ourselves in corporate works of mercy (together, let’s make a difference to the way that food is distributed, to the way that prisoners are treated in our state, in our nation), and yet as individuals we are each to be merciful (I am called, personally, in and through the conditions of my life, to respond mercifully to those around me).
We all wear the same thorny crown.
Perhaps the most unpleasant aspect of the text is the dualism (a feature of this kind of apocalyptic) that sees the accursed “goats” consigned to fiery judgement. It’s a bit extreme. There’s more to this point of pain and promise, however. I need to hear this indictment of unmerciful human beings. There are consequences for those who fail to show mercy.
To be merciless (harsh and hard) – irrespective of other religious or political or social concerns and activities – is to exclude oneself from the life that matters.
It’s not about being right. It’s not about being strong. It’s not about being talented, intelligent or respectable. It’s about being merciful – caring, attentive, compassionate. As such we “acclaim Our God with joy [in] all the earth” (Psalm 100:1). One commentator would have us focus on this point: “… mercy leads to life while its opposite leads to exclusion from the banquet of life” (Brendan Byrne SJ).
Yet it remains the case that anyone imprisoned or suffering – including the one in self-
We all wear the same thorny crown.
The third point of pain and promise – the third point of vulnerability or ambiguity – may be stated thus. If it is the case that merciful nonbelievers are welcomed into the banquet of life – we are not shown devotees of one or other god or cult but simply kind and humane persons – then why bother with Christianity?
Why bother with religion? If, in the end, “only kindness matters” (Jewel, “Hands”), then why pray, why meet for worship, why build synagogues, mosques, temples and churches?
The question can, of course, be asked the other way ’round: How does your faith centre about reverence for life, about acknowledging the preciousness of life communicated by the Gospel? How does being a Christian help you to be more merciful?
That’s a question we can begin to answer, again, on behalf of all those with whom we share this space, and these resources.
How does being religious, a follower of Jesus, a royal subject of Christ, a student of the Gospel, help you to be more merciful? According to Matthew 25, this is the ultimate question. In silence, let us receive what the Spirit brings ... Amen.