The Sparrow King

Matthew 25:31-46 (“Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”)

I'm going to look at an aspect of this Gospel that isn't normally emphasized. The Gospel itself definitely a warning message to all of us about how critical it is to consider each person we encounter as a manifestation of Christ himself but the message this Sunday is not only about caring for the unfortunate. This is the feast of Christ the King and in the first reading and the psalm we receive the understanding that he is not just a distant and removed king waiting for judgment day. He is a shepherd king, a king who walks with his people and shepherds them. He is a parent, a father, an older brother and one who suffers with his people.

A lot of you are parents and some of you are not but you have or had parents and I would hope that when you were a child you experienced the secure feeling that came from knowing that if things got really rough, one of your parents would always go to bat for you. Wise parents allow their children to fight most of their own battles but they also discern when a child is in a situation where he or she is just not capable of dealing with the problem and needs a parent to step in and take control. Those of you who are parents can no doubt think back to many situations where your child was bullied or was ill or was struggling with a situation where you recognized that adult intervention was definitely needed. The point here is that a good parent doesn't just objectively recognize situations where a child needs help; a good parent acutely feels the child's pain. Even when parents judge that it's all right to allow the child to try to deal with the challenge, parents die a thousand deaths if they think their child is scared, hungry, alone or physically threatened. The feeling is, “When you do it to my child, you do it to me.”

When you read or listen to the Gospel where Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it (or did not do it) to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it (or did not do it) to me,” think about a king who, like every good parent, is sliced to the core when one of his little ones is hurt, scared, lonely, excluded, sick, hungry or in an emotional, mental or physical prison.

Certainly we should always be aware of easing the suffering of his people – and that doesn't just mean other Christians. It means everyone. Still, to be able to effectively see Christ in the suffering ones, the small ones, the Anawim, we need to back up a bit and embrace the fact that we, too, are small ones. We all suffer. We all experience loneliness, fright, depression, spiritual or physical hunger and all the traumas that go with being a broken human in a broken world. We all need to spend time pondering the fact that our king is not a king in absentia. He is not an unapproachable autocratic type king who sits on a throne of terror. He is here with each one of us and when we are hurt, he dies a thousand deaths. Every parent knows the truth of that.

When the Israelites of the Old Testament demanded to have a king over them rather than a judge, they said, “Now make for us a king to judge us like all the nations.” They wanted their nation to look like the other nations of the world and God warned them that the kingdoms of the world they were wanting to emulate had rulers who took from the people. “[The King] will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots and to be his horsemen, and to run before his chariots; and he will appoint for himself commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and some to plough his ground and to reap his harvest, and to make his implements of war and the equipment of his chariots. He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive orchards and give them to his courtiers. He will take one-tenth of your grain and of your vineyards and give it to his officers and his courtiers. He will take your male and female slaves, and the best of your cattle and donkeys, and put them to his work. He will take one-tenth of your flocks, and you shall be his slaves.”

Still the Israelites insisted on a king and, except for the reign of a few good kings, kingship became equated with dictatorial inaccessibility, cruelty and bondage. Jesus came to turn the entire worldly image of a king completely upside down. He came to release his people from bondage. He came poor and whatever he possessed was freely given away. Instead of cruelty he dispensed healing and love. Instead of arrogance he displayed humility. Instead of intricate political maneuverings he walked in glowing transparency with no hidden agendas. Instead of building up armies and power, he built a group of twelve weak men. And instead of maintaining a cold, regal and demanding headship he became our Shepherd, our Father, our Brother, our Offering, our Healing, our Safety and our Beloved.

He became the Shepherd King, the Parent King who knows when it's healthy for us to struggle through and when it's time for him to step in and take over – if we will let him. He knows when we don't want him and he knows when we're longing for him like a deer thirsts for a running stream. But no matter what his wisdom knows is right and appropriate and no matter if he knows we will reject his hand or gratefully cling to it, his heart always acutely feels our pain. It is imperative that we experience the truth that we are small and lost and that we have a King who comes to us daily with compassion, understanding and an open hand, not the clenched fist of enforced subjugation. If we do not first experience our own beautiful smallness and the astonishing healing humility of our king, our efforts to reach out to others in need will be sporadic, mechanical and often patronizing. We will find ways to give so we don't have to become involved.

I've said it before: you cannot give what you haven't got. You cannot share a compassion that truly heals if you have never experienced seeing your king coming to you in your own pain, coming in the rags of a shepherd to show that his authority does not reside in regalia but in the love he wears.

When you have experienced your king in this way, then when you go to others in need you will go to them with the full authority of the king which is the authority of love. You will go to them as Jesus the King came to you saying, “You are my brother. You are my sister. Because of this I have suffered with you and whatever has been done to you has been done to me.” We cannot go to the poor and suffering as if we are separate from them in any way because Jesus does not come to any of us separated from our pain.

I love the story of the man who looked out his window on a bitterly cold winter day and saw a flock of sparrows huddled in the snow, perishing from the freezing winds. There was a barn there and the door was open but the sparrows didn't understand that there was shelter, safety and warmth in there. The man went out and tried to shoo them toward the barn door but the sparrows would just take fright and fly in all directions before settling back on the frozen ground. The man sadly realized that the only way he could get the sparrows into the barn was if he became a sparrow. Only then would he be able to speak their language and lead them to shelter.

This is what our King did for us. He became what we are because he felt our pain. When we know that the king himself has led us to healing warmth and shelter, how could we not do the same for others? When we do so, we are at one with the nature of the divine King – the King who does not separate himself from his people.

“... may we come to share in the divinity of Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity.”