“I was in prison.” Yes, you were. But, in many ways, so are we all.
Not likely literally, but often figuratively. We may be imprisoned by guilt, by habits, by addictions, by history, by ignorance. Perhaps we made a decision long ago whose consequences we feel we cannot escape. We may be a victim of childhood or adult neglect, indifference, or even abuse. There are many kinds of prisons.
We are at the mercy, if not imprisoned by, economic and cultural forces that invade our every living moment. The mysterious algorithms of the internet; the hidden and blatant persuader that is advertising, the rabbit holes of suspicion and conspiracy theories that make it nearly impossible for us to sort fact from fiction. We may be tempted to give up, to drop out, to construct a prison of our own making so that we can, at least, control our day-to-day lives.
And the prison of sin…yes, sin. Our frequent and persistent inability or unwillingness to do the good we know we should do or to avoid the bad we know we shouldn’t do. Our attempts to make our way through life apart from the love and grace of God. One day we decide we will do better; the next, we fall off the wagon of goodness.
And the pandemic. How is that for a prison? Huddled inside our homes seems the only safe place to be. If we dare venture out, it is because we must, even if just to avoid a complete mental and emotional breakdown. Even if the government doesn’t require us to do so, we hide behind our walls and our masks to protect ourselves, and wonder if we are being punished for something, and if so, for what?
Eric will walk out of a prison that has clear and obvious walls and fences into a world filled with vague and hidden forces that want to entrap him into their service. Not to mention into a world that may still be locked down by a pandemic. He will walk into the world we live in all the time.
“I was in prison…” and we still are.
“…and you visited me.” Yes, he did.
And that is my other good news for today. It is the eternal, unchanging good news of God’s earthly visit to us in Jesus Christ, of the Holy One’s visitation into the dark cells of our many and overlapping prisons.
Matthew 25’s dramatic vision of judgment meted out upon the nations by a sovereign Lord suddenly gives way to Matthew 26 and 27’s judgment meted out upon sinless Jesus by sinful human beings. In the same way, as the church turns the page from this Sunday of Reign of Christ/Christ the King to next Sunday’ beginning of Advent, we suddenly go from being awed by the sight of a mighty ruler surrounded by glory and angels to engaging in humble preparation for the birth of a helpless child on the darkest of nights, and surrounded the cattle.
Because of that holy child’s forthcoming visit to us, we know we are not alone despite all the walls that would enclose us and imprison us. By that one’s visitation in Jesus Christ, we are strengthened not only to endure the walls that encompass us, but even perhaps one day to break out of them. We are released from the fears of isolation and separation that incarcerate us in our past and in the pain and turmoil of our present. We are emboldened to live with trust that love is eternal, that justice prevails, that we need not abandon our humanity to get through all this, and that the hungry and thirsty and stranger and naked and sick and imprisoned deserve God’s life-giving visitation and presence as much as anyone else.
These continue to be difficult days and weeks, perhaps the most threatening we’ve known as a people in a couple of generations. But we are not alone. We meet and see and uphold one another as we ask questions and face challenges, dispelling doubt as we are in our beloved faith community. Jesus is in each face. We are not alone.
Seeing him and encouraged by each other, we are compelled toward generosity of time, talent, and treasure on behalf of those we likely do not know. As we serve strangers with resources and care and presence, Jesus is in their faces. And perhaps, they see Jesus in ours. We are not alone.
For Mary’s child liberates us all—servers and served alike—together: Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world…
Amen.
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