A Fresh Perspective

What Matters Most (a sermon from Matthew 25:31-46) This parable is not really a parable – it is but it isn’t. One scholar calls it an apocalyptic drama. Scholars who have studied Matthew in detail see the author’s hand all over this. Some argue that the author probably composed it. Of course, there is no way to prove that. What we can say for sure is that the teaching of this apocalyptic story strikes a theme that is dominant in Matthew’s Gospel, namely, doing the will of God, expressing mercy and justice, engaging in acts of lovingkindness. These are the things that Matthew’s Gospel emphasizes and these are the things that matter most. I hope you know not to take this judgment scene literally. This is an apocalyptic story. Apocalyptic literature is full of symbolism, sometimes rather strange and bizarre symbolism, like the Beast with ten heads or the great red dragon in the book of Revelation. In apocalyptic symbolism everything is exaggerated; it’s full of hyperbole. And whe

The New Oxford Annotated Bible calls this an “apocalyptic parable” and Matthew probably intended it as such. However, in more recent times a growing number of biblical scholars and religious writers have rediscovered the ancient wisdom tradition that some of the early followers of Jesus embraced. These teachers, instead of putting all the focus on some future coming, would emphasize Christ’s coming to us right now, again and again and again. The last couple of weeks I have talked about “knowing God” and “loving God.” Today I want to talk about “meeting God,” not in some future apocalyptic event, but right now. If you have been listening to what I have been saying this may seem like a paradox, which it is. I said last week that there is a sense in which we are all spiritual beings, because the Spirit of God, the Divine Presence is the reality in whom we live, move, and have our existence as Paul told the Athenians in the story in Act 17. The challenge for us is allowing the Spirit

In her book, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, Anne Lamott tells of her conversion to Christianity. After a number of years of self-destructive behavior and spiritually wandering about, she found herself attending a small Presbyterian church. She says, “I went back to St. Andrew about once a month. No one tried to con me into sitting down or staying. I always left before the sermon. I loved singing, even about Jesus, but I didn’t want to be preached at about him.” Her life at the time was a mess. Her dearest friend was dying of cancer. She was despondent following an abortion. She was addicted to alcohol and spent a number of days in a drugged and alcoholic stupor. And she was in the midst of a deep depression. It can’t get much lower than that. Nevertheless, she felt a presence. She says it was like a cat eyeing her, “I felt him sitting there on his haunches in the corner of my sleeping loft, watching me with patience and love, and I squinched my eyes shut, but that did