Judgment. The parable you just heard is about judgment. There is nothing
mysterious about this parable at all: serve others and enter the kingdom,
ignore others and suffer eternal banishment.
We won't dwell on judgment today. Instead, I want you to look at your
hands. Whether you are five years old or a hundred and five years old
or anything in between, you know something about hands. When I am done
this morning it is my prayer that you will allow the Holy Spirit to
continue to guide and direct the work of your hands. To help us we begin
with a story that has circulated widely on the internet.
Back in the fifteenth century, in a tiny village near Nuremberg, lived
a family with eighteen children. Eighteen! In order merely to keep food
on the table for this mob, the father and head of the household, a goldsmith
by profession, worked almost eighteen hours a day at his trade and any
other paying chore he could find in the neighborhood. [Albrecht Durer
the Elder worked hard just to make ends meet.] Despite their seemingly
hopeless condition, two of Albrecht's children had a dream. They both
wanted to pursue their talent for art, but they knew full well that
their father would never be financially able to send either of them
to Nuremberg to study at the Academy.
After many long discussions at night in their crowded bed, the two
boys finally worked out a pact. They would toss a coin. The loser would
go down into the nearby mines and, with his earnings, support his brother
while he attended the academy. Then, when that brother who won the toss
completed his studies, in four years, he would support the other brother
at the academy, either with sales of his artwork or, if necessary, by
laboring in the mines. They tossed a coin on a Sunday morning after
church. Albrecht Durer the Younger won the toss and went off to Nuremberg.
Albert Durer went down into the dangerous mines and, for the next four
years, financed his brother, whose work at the academy was almost an
immediate sensation.
Albrecht's etchings, his woodcuts, and his oils were far better than
those of most of his professors, and by the time he graduated, he was
beginning to earn considerable fees for his commissioned works.
When the young artist returned to his village, the Durer family held
a festive dinner on their lawn to celebrate Albrecht's triumphant homecoming.
After a long and memorable meal, punctuated with music and laughter,
Albrecht rose from his honored position at the head of the table to
drink a toast to his beloved brother for the years of sacrifice that
had enabled Albrecht to fulfill his ambition. His closing words were,
"And now, Albert, blessed brother of mine, now it is your turn.
Now you can go to Nuremberg to pursue your dream, and I will take care
of you."
All heads turned in eager expectation to the far end of the table where
Albert sat, tears streaming down his pale face, shaking his lowered
head from side to side while he sobbed and repeated, over and over,
"No ...no ....no ...no."
Finally, Albert rose and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He glanced
down the long table at the faces he loved, and then, holding his hands
close to his right cheek, he said softly, "No, brother. I cannot
go to Nuremberg. It is too late for me. Look ... look what four years
in the mines have done to my hands! The bones in every finger have been
smashed at least once, and lately I have been suffering from arthritis
so badly in my right hand that I cannot even hold a glass to return
your toast, much less make delicate lines on parchment or canvas with
a pen or a brush. No, brother ... for me it is too late."
More than 450 years have passed. By now, Albrecht Durer's hundreds
of masterful portraits, pen and silver-point sketches, watercolors,
charcoals, woodcuts, and copper engravings hang in every great museum
in the world, but the odds are great that you, like most people, are
familiar with only one of Albrecht Durer's works. More than merely being
familiar with it, you very well may have a reproduction hanging in your
home or office.
One day, to pay homage to Albert for all that he had sacrificed, Albrecht
Durer painstakingly drew his brother's abused hands with palms together
and thin fingers stretched skyward. He called his powerful drawing simply
"Hands," but the entire world almost immediately opened their
hearts to his great masterpiece and renamed his tribute of love, "The
Praying Hands."
The next time you see a copy of that touching creation, take a second
look. Let it be your reminder, if you still need one, that no one, no
one-ever makes it alone!1
We have all met people of the kingdom. Sure, they were imperfect in
many ways, but they have helped us arrive here today. If you are no
longer a child, remember yourself as a child. When you were hungry,
whose hands fed you? When you were thirsty, whose hands offered the
drink to refresh you? When you were feeling uncomfortable, and estranged,
whose hands welcomed and comforted you? When you were naked and helpless
as a baby whose hands dressed you? When you were sick, whose hands soothed
and healed you?
You are well acquainted with the truth of the parable of Jesus, you
are well acquainted with the mystery of love contained in the story
of The Praying Hands. Could you have made it to this point alone? Of
course not.
Whether young or old, you are here today because of others, and it
is equally true that others are here because of you. Look at your hands
again. They are a remarkable gift from God. These are hands that have
delighted in play and become calloused in work. These are hands that
have gripped and held and worked with tools with a strength to crush;
and have gripped and held fabric and art, a newborn child, an aging
parent with an incredible gentleness.
A quick look through our congregation this morning would reveal hands
roughened and cut in work, perhaps damaged, as were Albert's hands,
because of the type of work done; and we would find hands smooth and
whole and steady used to heal as surgeon and physician, nurse and technician.
We would find hands which guide others into new knowledge as teacher
and scout master and coach; hands which bring us to tears of both sadness
and joy as they work the musical instrument in their hands; we would
find the skilled hand of the artist in our midst; we would find hands
which prepare and serve food and drink to others; hands which are used
to protect our safety and smooth our way from one place to the next.
Hands that fix our cars and repair our homes.
Your hands have fed others and received food from others. Your hands
have offered refreshment to those who were thirsty and received refreshment
offered to you. Your hands have been stretched out and open to receive
the hand-shake of the stranger and offer welcome. Right here, perhaps
this very morning, your hands have been extended in welcome.
Your hands have held and then let-go of the clothes that soon covered
another-whether you have done this or given the clothes to the Cellar
Door or Martha's Closet. Your hands have gently held and stroked and
comforted the one who was ill. Your hands folded or lifted in prayer,
your hands touching and resting upon the one who is ill, combined with
the words of your heart have more than once been the way for the healing
power of God's love to work its way.
And what about prisons and prisoners? Just last weekend we prayed for
those who went to Ironwood Correctional Facility with Kairos. Their
hands served the men imprisoned there. Their hands were offered in welcome
and prayer and hope.
But, not all prisons have bars, and not all of us are called to go
to Ironwood. A quick look through our congregation this morning would
reveal hands offered to the one imprisoned in loneliness and loss; the
simple act of holding hands with one who is lonely shatters that prison
and opens the way for grace. Your hand offered to the one imprisoned
by addiction has been the hand-up that has lifted them out of that dungeon.
Your firm, loving grip extended to the one imprisoned by fear or depression
has dispelled the darkness of that prison and brought hope.
Have we been perfect in our service? No. Have we done everything that
God would have us do? Of course not. That is why we gather each week,
confessing that we have sinned in what we have done and in what we have
left undone. There is always more that we could do, and there is always
going to be improvement in what we are doing. What I want you to recognize
is that you and I, we, have begun to travel the way of serving others
that Jesus set before us. Let's not turn back now.
God's desire was and is to reach all those in need: the hungry, the
thirsty, the stranger, the naked and poorly clothed, the one sick and
the one in prison. But God's reach and God's touch resides in your hands.
Yours are the hands that must reach and touch with God's grace.
Yours are the hands that must teach our world about God's love.
Yours are the hands that will help your child, your spouse, your co-worker,
your neighbor make it in this world.
Yours are God's hands at work in the world around us.
Use this wonderful and precious gift, use your hands, for the comfort
of God's people and the glory of God's name. Amen.
