This week…

at an investment conference organised by a major wealth management magazine—

which was held in the ballroom at the five-star Savoy Hotel in London—

about five hundred of the ‘global super-rich’ and their advisers were warned that… 

unless they do more to address the widening gap between rich and poor…

spurred on by rising food and energy costs, and climate change…

there was a “real risk of actual insurrection”.

As the wealthiest members of society…

they were told that they were in a unique position to address it in a meaningful way…

if they stopped trying to slow down efforts to tackle the issues.

One of the speakers—

from the Centre for Strategic Philanthropy at the University of Cambridge—

said that philanthropic efforts by the wealthy had a “bad reputation”…

because, often, the focus was on the “feelgood factor” rather than on actual need.

Many rich people…

she said… 

look to establish their own charitable foundations—

especially in the areas of education and health—

without really investigating if there was an actual need…

or if there was an existing charity that was addressing it and to which they could contribute.

Too often, she claimed, the attitude seemed to be about personal image— 

“let’s just get some quick wins”—

rather than trying to “maximise impact”.

 

And…

to be quite honest…

that’s exactly what I think when I hear the word “philanthropy”:

rich people very publicly splashing their cash in an effort to make themselves look good…

and not necessarily because they actually, genuinely care…

and certainly not because they understand what the lived-experience of the recipients might be. 

 

Empathy—

figuratively, the act of walking a mile in someone else’s shoes;

seeking to look beyond my own experience and my own needs…

and to consider those of another—

it is, in many respects, one of the pre-eminent human virtues…

something that truly sets us apart from nearly all other species.

And yet, if we’re honest…

we have to admit that we’re not always very good at it.

So often, we struggle to empathise—

especially in the case of the vulnerable…

the marginal…

the different…

and the ‘other’.

And, in failing to do so, we only compound the vulnerability of the vulnerable;

and we demonise the different.

All too frequently, we fail to empathise—

out of fear…

out of apathy…

out of selfishness…

or, perhaps worst of all, out of an uncaring ideology.

And that lack of empathy is, perhaps, at its most hideous and heinous… 

when it’s religiously motivated.

And, unfortunately, don’t we see that all too often?

Be it the church’s mishandling of paedophile clergy—

still endeavouring to protect the institution…

rather than responding appropriately to the victims;

or its treatment of LGBTQ+ people;

or its attitude towards the terminally ill whose suffering cannot be controlled.

So often, throughout its long history…

the church has failed to protect the weak and the vulnerable;

and it has failed to embrace the rejected and the despised.

 

In some ways, perhaps, that was understandable—

if not forgivable—

in the centuries when the church was dominant;

when it held a privileged position within Western society;

when, in many respects, it not only shaped…

but was shaped by…

the dominant cultural discourse;

when it reflected the dominant ethos and values of the world around it.

And, maybe sometimes, we don’t fully appreciate how things have changed.

We don’t appreciate how we—

as the church—

are quite marginal to our community’s life.

In many ways, we still like to pretend that we’re society’s moral guardian.

Meanwhile, we still swallow so many of our culture’s values and ideologies uncritically…

rather than embrace our marginal place…

and allow our experience of marginality to feed our empathy.

 

And yet, if we look back—

back to a time when the church was in a marginal social position—

we find that it, too, struggled.

The community to which Matthew’s Gospel was addressed was marginal—

it was small…

and it wasn’t rich or powerful.

It was also treated with suspicion and contempt by its wider society—

both by the Greeks and Romans…

as well as the rest of the Israelite community from which it had come.

The members of that small Christian community were seen as different…

‘other’…

strange.

They didn’t fit in.

They experienced rejection, ostracism, and hostility—

especially from their own families.

And, within the context of ancient society, that was very profound.

After all, theirs was a world in which family was much more important than it is for us…

because most families struggled to make enough to survive;

and the household unit was the productive unit—

so they depended upon co-operation… 

and everyone doing their share.

It was also a world in which there was no social-security system…

and they were utterly dependent on their extended family for support.

So family division was, quite literally, a matter of life and death.

And the author’s comment, here— 

that allegiance to Jesus would set father against son…

or daughter against mother—

was a reality that many of them did, in fact, encounter.

 

And yet… 

there’s a suggestion in this morning’s reading…

that the experience of rejection, ostracism, and hostility in Matthew’s community…

isn’t necessarily producing a response of empathy.

For, he commends “whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of the little ones”.

Now, that expression—

“the little ones”—

is one of the author’s favourites;

and how these “little ones” are treated mark…

for him…

one of the defining characteristics of a follower of Jesus.

And, clearly, the expression refers to those in the community who are the most vulnerable and most in need:

the powerless…

the weak…

the hurting…

the abused…

and the abandoned.

The author urges his community to recognise and draw upon their own experience…

and thus to show empathy for—

to welcome and embrace—

those who were ‘the last and the least’;

those whom their culture and society deemed the lowest of the low;

those who, within their culture, were not deemed to be deserving of compassion.

But his rationale is not just that so doing affirms our essential humanity;

or, even, that it’s a good missional or evangelistic strategy.

No!

For this author, it is fundamentally a theological issue.

If empathy—

that is, seeing beyond my own experience and needs…

and understanding those of another—

is a quintessentially human trait…

then…

as the theologian, Charlene Burns points out… 

it’s first and foremost a divine trait.

Surely the incarnation is nothing if not an act of divine empathy?

More than that, Burns argues that empathy constitutes for us the ‘image of God’ in which we are ‘created’.

In other words…

it is only through empathy that we manifest and make real the image of God.

Thus, according to the author of Matthew’s Gospel:

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me”.

The author calls upon them to care for the lowest and the least…

as if they were caring for Jesus himself. 

That is the very essence of what it means to participate in God…

and to be children of God.

And, in that respect, nothing has changed!