​Jesus is enfleshed in the “least of these.”  In our lessons this week, Jesus points out his presence with the poor, hungry, imprisoned—the people on the margins of society.
It’s a surprising place to see Christ.  Both the sheep and the goats are surprised by how they’ve interacted with, or ignored, the Lord.  ‘We didn’t know you were with those whom we were helping; we didn’t know you were with those whom we ignored.’ 
 
God’s favor is on the lowly—not the one we praise as ‘blessed.’  Not the powerful, the rich, the ones with influence or ability.  The king, Jesus Christ, identifies and sides with the lowly.
 
What does it mean that the King of the Universe, the sovereign God’s son, came as a baby born in a barn?  That he came not as a warrior, lawmaker, or ruler, but as a teacher, healer, and political protester and as one who identifies with marginalized?
 
A wise man once held a tablet of stone that had at the top, “I AM the Lord your God, you shall have no other god’s before me.”  An even wiser one, when asked what the greatest commandment is answered, “you shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, soul, and mind…and love your neighbor as yourself.”  It’s hard to keep God at the top.  We tend toward putting our trust in more immediate things—in things that seem closer to, or more like unto, ourselves.
 
God is the ruler, creator, redeemer and director of the universe.  And yet we trust ourselves, our own reason and strengths, our own friends and authorities, to rule our lives.  In the end, these all fall short.  In the end, these lead to injustice and oppression.  Trusting ourselves leads to exploiting God’s people—it breaks away at “love your neighbor as yourself” and it quickly erodes “love the Lord your God, with all your heart, soul, and mind.”
 
The thing is, when trust in God fades, and our trust gets placed on ourselves and on others, we become blind to Christ among us.  We become blind to the one’s with whom Christ dwells.
 
Yet, when we see Christ as Lord, God as the only God, we begin to see others as they are, and we begin to see creation as a beautiful thing. 
 
The reign of Christ is made clear for us when God alone is our God.  We see Jesus and his love, when we worship God alone. 
 
When you put aside love of self, and you fear and love God above all things, people become people.  The hungry, thirsty, and strangers: you see; the naked, sick, and imprisoned: you recognize and treat as people.  When God alone is God, Jesus is embraced in the “least of these” and the ones we’ve pushed to the margins.  Jesus’ reign, the kingdom of God, is where he is—thirsting for justice, begging to be noticed, longing for love.
 
The good news today, God’s wonderful promise, we hear in Ezekiel.  God says, “I will set up over them one shepherd, my servant David, and he shall feed them: he shall feed them and be their shepherd.” 
God dwells with us, in Jesus Christ—the Son of David, the Messiah.  He feeds us with himself, washes us in the miracle of baptism, and gives us new life, renewed vigor, eyes that see him by faith.  In him ignorance and injustice for the hungry, thirsty, stranger, naked, sick, and imprisoned are brought to light.  In him, where there is death, life springs forth.
 
You are God’s sheep, God’s beloved one.  Jesus, the Christ, who is the Sovereign ruler of the Universe, is with you always.  The prince of peace, the light of the world, the crucified and risen king, is your shepherd.  Draw to him, as he is always drawing close to you.  By faith, see him and embrace him in people: in people who are hungry, thirsty, migrant, naked, sick, or imprisoned.
 
Christ is with his people.  Especially, the “least of these, members of my family.”
 

​Particularly on Thanksgiving, giving back is one of the ways many people choose to show their appreciation.  Thanksgiving is one of the largest volunteer days of the year.  There aren’t enough positions available in some places for all the people volunteering on Thanksgiving.  Giving back, using the time and resources we’ve been given for the benefit of others, is the mark of truly being thankful.
 
The gifts and money we have been entrusted with we are called, (expected even, by virtue of our baptism) to use extravagantly; expected to take risks, to make the most of what the Father has given us. 
Being followers of Christ is not idle work—it’s not hiding talents under the ground.  It is going boldly, in thanksgiving, into the world with our careers, vocations, relationships, etc. to proclaim Christ, to make a positive difference in the world, to speak hope in the face of despair, love in the face of hate, to work for peace and justice in a world where injustice, greed and corruptive power run rampant.  The Christian life and calling is one of giving thanks, actively.
 
Everything is a gift of God.  Besides the obvious things—food, shelter, our lives, friends—we are given something even greater.  We are given the gift of faith.  We are given baptism into the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. 
By our faith we are given eternal life, and through our faith we enter into the work of God, now, in the world.  We enter into the work of God,
who speaks hope in the face of despair,
who shows love in the face of hate,
who works peace and justice in a world where prejudice and violence are the norm.
 
It is our faith, given by the Holy Spirit, which allows us follow Christ, sharing the good news by the way we live. 
Thankful for all God has done for us,
for Jesus’ giving himself for us, bringing life from death for us, staying with us in all circumstances,
our faith takes us into Christ’s mission.
 
Sharing the light of Christ—this is the joy of the master. The two slaves that traded with their talents were praised and invited into the joy of their master. 
 
The one who buried his master’s talent…
That’s like receiving a precious gift and hiding in the back of the closet.  That’s like hearing and receiving the good news and not telling a soul.  That’s like receiving forgiveness and knowing God’s desire for justice and mercy, but being too afraid, or apathetic, to extend forgiveness and love to those around you.
 
Burying the talent is like squelching your faith, it’s like being freed by the gospel and then putting yourself in the ground.  It’s faith without works, and it is dead.
 
Jesus says the servant who hid the talent is cast into the darkness. It is darkness when we stifle the light of Christ we’ve been given at our baptism.  It is weeping and gnashing of teeth when we hide our faith.
 
We are invited into the joy of the master.  We are invited to share the light of Christ which we received, to trade with the talents the master has entrusted to us.
 
Last week was about lamps, this week about talents.   The encouragement: Keep your Christ light shining, trade courageously with your gift of faith.  Thankfulness includes a response.  It does not keep the gift hidden away, but displays it proudly.  Thankfulness tells all your friends about the gift, and strangers you meet as well.  Thankfulness is the response of faith—and faith, even the size of a mustard seed can do extravagant things: Faith enters into the work of Christ in the world--
Christ who brings good news to the poor, and proclaims release to the captives. 
Who heals the sick, and lets the oppressed go free. 
Who defeats injustice with mercy, and hate with love;
and who brings life where there is only death, light out of darkness.
 
Thanks be to God, for all we have been given, and especially for the work of Jesus Christ in this world—into which we have called, by God’s claim on us in our baptism.

​Awake, arise! 
The bridegroom comes; the banquet is prepared.
 
Today’s gospel urges diligence, and preparation as we wait for the coming bridegroom.  The great wedding feast is being prepared; and we will either be ready, able to wake, rise, and by our light, join the bridegroom at his feast; or we will have no oil, left in the dark, unable to see our way when he comes.
 
As Christians, we wait prepared.  The delay of the bridegroom does not worry us—our lamps are full of oil for the long, cold night.  We have been given the needed resources to keep our lamps lit.  In fact, we see and practice for his arrival as we gather each week.
 
The culmination of our life as Christians is at the table, where we meet Jesus at his wedding feast.  It is a meal that is a foretaste of the feast to come.  We meet Jesus, and all who are his, at this table when we share communion. 
Each time we do this it is a proclamation of the reality that Christ has come into the world, for us, and called us to himself.  He gives us forgiveness and his self—his presence in all aspects of our lives, through this meal. 
That promise is for us today, but it is not complete.  That’s why we call it just a foretaste of the feast to come; because, though we catch a glimpse of it now, the fullness of that presence and promise—eternal life in Christ—is still yet to be realized.
 
Our texts today urge diligence and preparation as we wait for our Lord’s coming—as we await the coming of the bridegroom. 
 
Jesus’ advice to “keep awake” means knowing that a moment will arrive we are called upon to witness to Jesus Christ and his kingdom in our midst.  The world is a dark place.  But we are not without the light of Christ, we are not without oil in our lamps—because he has put it there for us.
 
Our witness to the kingdom of God, our keeping awake, means that we are ready to call out the injustice we see.  It means that our lamps trimmed so we can witness to and shine forth the righteousness of God present here and now.  It means that our lamps filled with oil so as to be ready for the long haul of resistance and persistence as we help, in the prophet Amos’ words, “justice to roll down like waters, righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”
 
In baptism, we enter into these promises: to trust God, to proclaim Christ in word and deed, to care for others and the world God made, and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth. 
This is the kind of keeping awake Jesus asks of us—to be ready to witness to him, live our baptismal promises; to see his kingdom in this world now, and be continue to long for the fullness of that kingdom to come.
 
At the table, we receive a foretaste of the gift of eternal life in Jesus Christ. Christ fills our lamps for the long, cold night, where the world is hungry for peace, justice, and a witness to God’s kingdom.  We see a glimpse of his justice and righteousness poured out in the wine we share, and in the bread that is broken for our sake.  Justice and righteousness gets extended to where love and peace is shared in the face of hate and violence.
 
As we taste of the wedding feast, with every glimpse and witness to his kingdom in the world, we are reminded of the great promise of Jesus’ unyielding presence with us, of his unending love for us, of eternal life with him at the great banquet feast.
 
At the table, be fed by God’s presence.  Let Christ fill your lamps, and keep the lamp trimmed through the night.  Jesus is with you even through the coldest and darkest part of the night.  Shine your lamp brightly for those around you to see.
And, finally, come to the table in thanksgiving for the promises of God received here, and for those promises which are still to come: when we will all gather around the table at his great wedding feast.
 
Awake, arise!
The bridegroom comes!