The Rev. Dani Gabriel
November 22, 2020
Readings:
https://lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp29_RCL.html
“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.” —Matthew 25
Pretty simple, right?
The first time you visit someone in prison is something you never forget. When I was 19 I was a student teacher poet in the Poetry for the People program at UC Berkeley. We were all set to teach sections at Cal, classes at Berkeley High School, and classes at the Federal Women’s Prison in Dublin. I didn’t think anything of it. Of course, people need poetry in prison. Of course, I’ll go.
One evening a group of us headed to the prison for the final poetry reading from the last semester’s session. We took BART out to Dublin and then hitchhiked through the military base surrounding the prison til we met its razor wired entrance. I’ll never not know what it feels like to have the prison door click and lock shut behind me. Every time I went the doom of that moment rattled me. And that first time it was enough to rattle me the entire evening.
And there they were, these women I would get to know, with their words and their stories. They were powerful. They were survivors. And they taught me more than I taught them. They taught me what dignity is. They held such palpable dignity as they walked into the small room in ugly, dingy uniforms. They spoke of hardships I often related to, and had to ask myself, how is it that I am free to go, and they are locked down here?
“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.”
When Jesus tells us in this passage—and he’s not asking, let’s be clear—-how the righteous will be separated from the unrighteous and what we are expected to do for our siblings, he’s not just telling us to do it for the benefit of those who are hungry or in prison. He’s giving us the opportunity to encounter Him. He’s inviting us to meet him where he lives, which is with the poor, and the outcast, and those in prison. Make no mistake about it. When you commit yourself to acting in service you have just accepted an invitation from Jesus Christ himself to know and be known.
Over the months I visited the prison I got to know people’s stories. Stories of addiction, violence, and political protest. But I also got to know what they found funny, what they saw as beautiful. I learned a little about what it’s like to live in a prison surrounded by razor wire for decades or maybe the rest of your life. And it changed the course of my life, and my commitment to justice, and my commitment to serving my siblings.
“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.”
So reach for that invitation from Jesus in whatever way you can. There are ways to “visit” even without leaving your home. There are ways to connect and to affirm the dignity and divinity present in all of us. You can donate, correspond, and meet online through Episcopal organizations and others. The punishment in this passage is not the point. It’s the call to relationship, and ultimately to wholeness.
