The Rev. Canon Jan Naylor Cope: Let Jesus be the Judge
Lord, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of our collective hearts be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.
If I were to ask you to name your five favorite biblical themes, what would they be? What are some of the spiritual threads and themes in the Bible that have the most meaning for you? That you cherish and that help you get through every day? If I were to guess, many of you would probably have love on the list. Love is good. We all want to be loved. Surely, we are sustained by scriptures like those in Ephesians, which express the sort of love that surpasses all understanding. In these complicated and difficult days, comfort might be on your list. Looking across the divisions in our own country and then the horrific and heartbreaking wars in Ukraine, in the Holy Land, and other troubled places around the globe, I certainly seek comfort in the scriptures. As we are about to enter the season of Advent, I recall that part of Handel’s Messiah taken from the prophet Isaiah, “Comfort ye my people.” Maybe you would choose strength—strength not just for today but for tomorrow. We are drawn to Psalm 46 which reminds us that God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. For some, perhaps it’s justice and we think of the prophet Amos who speaks of letting justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
What are your five? Just out of curiosity, did anyone have judgment on your list? For those of you worshiping online, the Cathedral is full; I did not see one hand go up! It’s ironic, isn’t it, that we who are not too keen about being judged are quick to judge? Is that not true? I remember as a child, one of the very first scriptures that I memorized was from the seventh chapter of Matthew, the Sermon on the Mount: “Judge not lest ye be judged.” Now, let’s just say that Episcopalians in that day weren’t necessarily known for memorizing Bible verses. The fact that that one still sticks with me from the time I was a child probably has something to say about what my parents felt I needed! Judge not lest ye be judged. You heard the gospel lesson. It depicts Jesus as the judge at the end of the age. Jesus is teaching the disciples and answering their question from the previous chapter in the Gospel of Matthew— when is the end of time? And essentially, what will it be like? Jesus responds with the prospect of the sheep and the goats and the eternal fire and eternal punishment.
This was a gospel lesson that was appointed to me when I was a fairly newly minted priest and I thought, oh my gosh, what do you do with this—the sheep and goats and judgment and eternal fire and eternal punishment? Where’s the hope in all that? So, I did what I often did in those days when I was turning myself into a theological pretzel and on Saturday still didn’t have a sermon. I called my mother. My mother was incredibly wise and wickedly funny. We always had a good conversation regardless of where it went. I said, “Mother, what am I going to do? I have to stand up and preach. And it talks about final judgment and sheep and goats and fire and punishment!” There was a long pause and she said, “Well, Jan, sometimes we’re sheep and sometimes we’re goats.” Truer words were never said. My friends, sometimes we’re sheep and sometimes we’re goats.
The great Good News in this gospel lesson is that it’s Jesus sitting on the throne and not you or me. Look at what Jesus lifts up: our calling, if we are to follow him, is to be focused outwardly, not focused on ourselves. Now Jesus describes family very broadly—that the kingdom of God includes all, with particular attention to the least, the lost, and the last. Jesus lifts up what he did in his own ministry: tending to the hungry, to the thirsty, to the sick, to the stranger, to the naked, and to those imprisoned. This is our call also as followers of Christ. Jesus says, “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.” That’s it. We are, as followers of Christ, to do for the least, the lost, and the last.
Life, however, is messy sometimes. I was reminded when I was preparing for this sermon of a person who touched me very deeply and I think helps underscore the point I’m trying to make. Many years ago, my husband John and I participated in a program called the Disciple Bible Study. It was a nine-month Bible study with a small group, and we were in it with members of Foundry United Methodist Church where my husband was very involved before we married. Suffice it to say, when you’ve done Bible study with a small group for nine months, you are tight. You know a lot about each other. One of our members told the group that she’d become engaged, and she was going to be married and it meant that she would be moving away from Washington.
We were all excited for her. She was so happy. She asked John and me if we would meet with her because she had a favor to ask and we said, of course. When we met, she told us something she had not shared before. Her brother Randy was homeless and had been for some time. She told us a little bit about his story and that he had hit a really rough patch in his life. He was depressed; he just couldn’t handle life anymore in the way that he was trying to live it. He abandoned and left his wife and children—just left and ended up living on the streets. She asked if we would keep an eye on him, which of course we were happy to do. As fate would have it, he lived on the street two blocks from John’s office, so it wasn’t a big ask.
We discovered that Randy was really friendly. He was a great big man. No one would mess with that man on the street. He had a really big heart too. People in the neighborhood around 20th and M all knew Randy. He was the person who always seemed to have some money available for a fellow street person who needed just enough for a bus fare to go home or to go seek a better life. He always seemed to have enough time to listen to someone with a problem who just needed a listening ear. It didn’t matter if you worked in a shop or if you were one of those K Street lawyers in multi-thousand dollar suits. Randy was a friend to all. He was easy to have as a friend. He never asked for anything. He was just there tending the sheep who crossed his path.
One day we learned that Randy had died. It turned out he had not just a big heart, metaphorically, but an enlarged heart and it took his life. People came together and said, “Well, we have to have some sort of gathering to remember this man.” So, arrangements were made. We had a gathering at Foundry Methodist Church. All kinds and sorts of people came. People started to share their own story of their interactions with Randy: what a friend he’d been, how generous he’d been, what a compassionate person he was. And all those things were true. Then his estranged wife and children spoke. They told a very different story about how he had abandoned them and the hurt and the pain that they had suffered as a consequence—all the ball games and birthdays he had missed. That too was true.
So, was he a sheep or was he a goat? Life is messy. Sometimes we’re sheep and sometimes we’re goats. But the Jesus we follow, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords is a different kind of king. He’s not a king who judges by royal fiat, but by relationship. This is not a capricious king, but a compassionate one and one who comes alongside us—Emmanuel, God with us. Bryan Stevenson, a public interest lawyer who’s dedicated his life to serving the poor, the incarcerated, and the condemned said that “Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”
Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done. My brothers and sisters, life is messy; and part of our call is to be there for one another in those messy times. We’re about to start a new church year next Sunday. Hold fast to these things that Jesus has taught us and let Jesus be the judge. I leave you with words of benediction that our dean, Randy Hollerith, often offers us and they’re from the Gospel of Luke.
Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven; give and it will be given to you. . . . for the measure you give will be the measure you receive. Amen.