Matthew 25:31-46
Sonder:
the realization that every person you see, every passerby, every random
stranger you come across -- the person you almost run into on the street, or
the person drinking coffee at the corner table at Starbucks, the man in the
next car in the next lane at the bank drive through, the homeless people who
gather in groups at the library or who line up in front of us at the Salvation
Army – all of these people have lives as vivid as yours. They have people who
have been influential in their lives, for good or for bad. They have their own back
stories, moments when their lives changed on a dime. Sonder is the realization
that every person has a life as vivid as your own.
Sonder
is a word coined by John Koenig. If you Google the word “sonder” you can watch
a video about it created and narrated by the author. If I were using this word
next week, we could watch the video on the screen. Soon. Very soon. I don’t know the origin of
sonder, how or why Koenig coined it. But it resonates with me. The word
resonates with me and the idea resonates with me.
I
first had a flash of sonder, although I didn’t know that’s what it was, when I
was enduring an interminably long layover in the Atlanta
airport many years ago. There’s an old joke that says if you die in the South,
whether you go to Heaven or Hell, you have to go through Atlanta
to get there. Sitting for many hours in the Atlanta
airport felt like hell. On that particular layover, I had wandered the
terminal, and checked out every possible shopping opportunity. This was long
before the days when you could get a massage, a mani and a pedi while waiting
in an airport. I’d gotten something to eat and drink, found the ladies room,
and was now sitting at my gate with what seemed like an eternity still left to
wait for my flight. I had a book and crossword puzzles, but I was having a hard
time staying focused because I kept listening for updates on my flight number.
So I had given up and started people watching. There were the business people
in suits, looking at their watches and reading files out of their briefcases.
There were some young families; one parent taking turns holding the baby and
minding the stroller and diaper bag while the other one took the toddler to the
bathroom.
But
one scenario unfolded that I’ve never forgotten. An older woman was waiting
anxiously by a gate – these were the days when families could meet you at the
gate. She was with a couple of older kids, teenagers. I guessed they were her
children. I said she was anxious because she was pacing slightly, looking,
peering at the spot where passengers from an arriving flight would soon appear.
She clasped and unclasped her hands. The flight’s arrival was called, and
travelers began to deplane. She and her children were staring excitedly at each
person coming toward them. It must have been a crowded flight because
passengers were streaming around this mother and children, parting like a river
meeting a large stone. Then the woman’s face changed; it was suffused with
absolute joy. She put her face in her hands and began to cry. A tall, lanky
sailor strode toward her. He was wearing his dress blues with the white sailor
hat. He walked up to her, threw his arms around her and hugged her so hard he
lifted her from the ground. The other kids were jumping up and down and hugging
him, and he was hugging them back. But I’ll never forget that mother. She was
overcome with joy that her son had come home.
I
didn’t know it, but I was experiencing sonder. I realized in that brief moment
that I was witnessing another life as vivid as my own. I would never see this
family again. I would never know their names or their histories or where they
went from that time on. But I knew that they were living a complete existence.
I could not write them off as just people in an airport. I imagined that there
was a great dinner being prepared at home to welcome their sailor. I suspected
that other family members and friends would be joining them. I guessed that
preparations and plans had been in the works for quite a while; the house had
been scrubbed. His room was shiny clean. The table was laid. Her son was home.
Sonder.
What
is so surprising about this passage from Matthew is that both the sheep and the
goats are surprised. When Jesus told those listening about the judgment of the
nations, he said that he Son of Man would come in his glory. All the angels
would come with him. The Son of Man would then sit on his throne of glory, and
all the nations – ethnos in Greek – all people would be gathered before him for
judgment. Like a shepherd, he would separate the sheep and the goats. The sheep
would be put at his right hand and the goats at his left hand.
To
the sheep at his right hand, he will say,
“Come, you that
are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the
foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty
and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was
naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in
prison and you visited me.”
The sheep, the
righteous ones, are surprised! They want to know when.
“Lord, when was it
that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to
drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked
and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and
visited you?”
The answer? “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.”
He will turn to
the ones on his left and use the same criteria for condemnation. I was hungry
and you did not feed me. I was thirsty and you did not give me something to
drink. I was a stranger and you did not welcome me. I was naked and you gave me
no clothes. I was sick and in prison and you didn’t visit me.
And the goats,
those poor goats, will also ask “when?”
Lord, when we did
see you hungry or thirsty, naked, sick, in prison and not welcome you?!
The answer? When
you did not offer those kindnesses, that compassion to the least of these, then
you did not offer it to me.
The traditional
takeaway from this passage is that Jesus is in every person, therefore we are
to treat every person – particularly the poor, the hungry and sick, the
prisoner, the least of these, as though
we were caring for Jesus himself. That is not a bad takeaway. It is a
fine one, in fact. Certainly, it is the essence of what kingdom living is about.
Seeing this passage in light of the Sermon on the Mount, considering who Jesus
called blessed, it would make sense to reach out to the least ones, the lowly
ones, the marginalized and forgotten ones.
There are
folktales and stories galore about millers and monks who learn that when they
care for others in need, they are really caring for their Lord. It would seem
that if you want to be a sheep, than this is what you do.
However, herein
lies the rub. I am a sheep. And I am also a goat. I have reached out to the
least of these. But I have also walked on by. I have tried to be mindful,
intentional about treating others as though I were serving Jesus himself, but I
have also dismissed other people as being as unlike Jesus as possible. I label
people. I group them into categories. I paint them with the broad brush of
sweeping generalizations. To be brutally honest, when it comes to caring and
compassion it is far easier for me to care for the least of these then it is
for me to care for those with whom I radically disagree.
But then I
experience a moment of sonder, a moment when I realize that everyone has a
story, everyone has a vivid life. Every person came from another person. Every
grown adult was once a tiny baby, dependent on the care of others. Every person
needed and needs a hand to hold, no matter what they tell you. Every human is a
child of God; every human carries a spark of the divine within him or her.
Every human is a child of God. Every human could be Jesus, because Jesus was
one of us. Maybe kingdom living is not just about treating others the way we
would treat Jesus, but recognizing that every human deserves dignity because
they are human. Every human has a story, and sonder, when we experience it, is
the gateway to empathy.
The sheep did not
know that they were caring for Jesus; they just cared. Are we not called to do
the same? To care, not merely because we are commanded to, but because we care.
God loves us, and we love God in return. God loves us, and out of our love for
God, we love others. So care. Care for the least of these. Care for the hungry
and the sick and the thirsty. Care for the naked and the prisoner. Care for the
stranger. Care for the human beings who cross your path. Care for the others.
Care for them all. Care as though they were Jesus and care because they are
human and care because they are God’s children. Just like us.
Let all of God’s
children say, “Alleluia!” Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment