I want to share with you part of a gracious letter we received from our friends at an immigrant rights organization in our community thanking our church for the modest and meaningful and ongoing way that we have been supporting them and their food pantry and food delivery efforts:

“Your support is invaluable in the face of ongoing and intensified persecution of immigrants. Your generosity is nothing short of an act of profound solidarity, allyship and the true embodiment of Christ!

“The current political climate, marked by aggressive enforcement, restrictive policies, and rhetoric that seeks to dehumanize, has made our mission more challenging and more critical than ever before. Every day, families live in fear of separation, and vulnerable individuals are denied the basic dignity and legal process they deserve…

“We are honored to have you as a partner in this struggle for an inclusive, just, and welcoming society.”

These gracious words strike me in a convicting way, where my honest response is, “May I, may we, prove ourselves to be worthy of this gratitude.”

What the letter says here about being the “embodiment of Christ” is deeply rooted in the Gospel of Jesus. We are called to be the embodiment of Christ for one another – or maybe at best try earnestly to be – through humble service to each other, to neighbors and strangers in their time of need. Now, we do this imperfectly, at our best (and how often are not at our best), but we still must try to do it earnestly.

What Jesus teaches about how to try to do this earnestly is by focusing on, you could say, the inverse: not by seeking to be Christ but to serve Christ, and to serve Christ by serving other people, by serving that-of-Christ in other people. Jesus literally says that we should see him in people who need our help. Jesus concretely identifies himself with them. Jesus goes out of his way to say that he is present especially with those whose dignity and sanctity and humanity are not being recognized and cared for. Sometimes that’s us, sometimes that’s others.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus explicitly identifies himself with those he calls “the least of these” – those who need welcome, those who need help, those who need food and shelter and safety and companionship. “That which you do to the least of these,” Jesus said, “you do to me” (Matthew 25:31-46).

How much clearer can he be? If we come upon a stranger needs welcome, we are encountering Christ. If we offer that person welcome, we are welcoming Christ. If we refuse that person welcome – or worse, abuse them – we are refusing and abusing Christ.

Jesus is also clear that there are consequences for the decisions we make about how we treat others. If we offer someone mercy and generosity, well that’s a taste of Heaven on earth that we both can enjoy – a foretaste of what’s to come.

But if we make life hell for others, well, we will have hell to pay for it.

It is impossible for me to hear these words from Jesus and not connect it directly to how hellish life has been made for so many immigrants in our country, “strangers” in need of welcome and safety and home. Life has been precarious for them for a long time, but it’s particularly scary now. So many of our fellow human beings, bearers of Christ, have not only been denied welcome and safety and home, but had it ripped away. And when loved ones and clergy and lawyers try to visit them in when they’re locked up, as love dictates and justice requires and Jesus demands, they are denied. Folks may not even be held in a country where they have any family ties or any constitutional rights, or any hope for release.

If we take Jesus seriously, shouldn’t we expect there will there be hell to pay for all this?

We don’t usually focus on this in the United Church of Christ, but Jesus did teach about some kind of chastising punishment after life, as well as the possibility of inheriting the Realm of Heaven. In fact, after my sermon last week someone told me, “Hey, I was hoping for a fire-and-brimstone sermon!” They said it as a joke, meaning “It’s cold outside and it’s cold in here (with one of our sanctuary heaters out), how about a fire-and-brimstone sermon to warm things up!” Well, this is as much of a fire-and-brimstone sermon as you’ll get from me.

All joking aside, sin is very real, and sin has consequences. Violence does beget violence, violating the dignity and human rights of fellow human beings is a grim and dangerous path to go down, for the here-and-now and the here-beyond.

Now, I have never been convinced by the view that the good and just and loving God that Jesus revealed to the world would subject souls to eternal torment. But I do believe the best interpretation of Jesus’ teachings, and of near-death experiences, is that our souls must pass through the refining fires of the hells we make for others, experiencing what we have made others experience, being confronted by the pain of our willful distance from the Divine. (*see notes below).

Our enslavement to sin does have consequences, not only for others but for ourselves.

The hells we make for other we have to live in ourselves, at least for a time, if not in here-and-how, then in the here-beyond. Yet through it all, God, whose true nature is Mercy, extends the invitation to freedom, freedom from our enthrallment with the forces of sin, freedom in sweet surrender to the unconditional universal Love of our Creator. There can always be Mercy for those who choose to accept it mercy. The chastising punishment of negative moral consequences does not have to be eternal … as long as a soul becomes willing ultimately to be utterly humbled by the realization of their – of our – need for God’s Mercy.

We all need God’s holy Mercy. We all can know this holy Mercy, here and now, as well as in the here-beyond. It is much, much better for us and for others if we can receive this holy Mercy in the here and now. And when we do, Jesus makes it clear, we are drawn to live by this mercy and to offer this mercy to all those who also need it. We can’t truly receive it without sharing it, even with our enemies, and with those who treat us as enemies. As Jesus said, “Be merciful as your Abba in Heaven is merciful.” (Luke 6:36). When we do, this gives glimpses of Heaven on Earth, sweet foretastes of what is to come.

Whenever Jesus spoke about the Age to come and what we may inherit in the here-beyond, his point very clearly is to direct our attention to how faithfully we are living in the here-and-now.

And the truth is, if we’re honest, most of us – maybe all of us – are a mix of “sheep” and “goat” (to use the image Jesus uses in Matthew 25 – which I think is unfair to actual goats, but I won’t get into that). Speaking for myself, I’ll confess I’m a mix of “sheep” and “goat.” There are times and ways I have responded with compassion and moral courage when confronted by my fellow human being in need.  And there are ways I have ignored the needs of others, turned my back on my brother, my sister, my sibling – sometimes out of fear, sometimes out of judgment, out of a hardened and merciless heart. So I can’t just blame others for making life a whole hell of a lot harder for someone than it could have been if I had just let the love of God soften my heart my little.

How much worse does it get when you are taught to hate and fear others, to think that all our problems will go away if we just get right of those people?

Jesus’ teaching is convicting. It’s not comfortable. It can cause us to become aware of the ways we have served Christ as well as the ways we have denied Christ. When we reflect on this, we can become aware of those forces within us and around us that can lead us to go one way or the other. On one side is the magnetic pull of God’s Love and Mercy. On the other side are the merciless forces of sin. The truth is we are all susceptible to those forces and unable to free ourselves by our own power; we must open ourselves to the magnetic pull of God.

The other uncomfortable thing here is that it’s unclear whether Jesus in Matthew 25 is talking about people as individuals or as societies. Jesus only talks about nations here.The people on both sides speak in the third person we. There is an uncomfortable ambiguity about what is at stake here, individual behavior or collective behavior.

The argument against showing mercy to our neighbors and siblings who are immigrants is often this: Hey, don’t be naïve. Mercy is weakness. There are terrible, predatory people taking advantage of your bleeding heart to commit terrible violent crimes.

First, I’ll point out that only 5-7% of the undocumented immigrants who have been detained or deported actually have a violent criminal record. 72-3% have no criminal convictions against them of any kind, 26% of which do have pending charges but the vast majority of those pending charges are for immigration or traffic offenses (see here and here for analysis, as well as here and here).

To make it seem like immigrants are some kind of violent scourge is scapegoating pure and simple.

But let’s think through this accusation of naïvety from a Christian perspective. We do live in a fallen world. We do need laws and law enforcement to try to protect against the terrible things people can do to each other.

But what is most naïve is to think that those who are empowered and entrusted to make laws and to enforce laws are somehow going to be immune from the forces of sin. In fact, they are more susceptible to sin, because of the seductions and corruptions of power. A wise and just society needs to have strong checks and balances, real rules and accountability for the people we entrust with any kind of power. A wise and just society respects and protects the rights of all people against abuses of power. In our society that’s very much in danger.  

A Christian thinker who really spelled this out was Reinhold Niebuhr. Niebuhr was very influential Christian ethicist in the 20th Century, who started out as a minister with the German Evangelical church, which became part of the UCC. Niebuhr wrote a book called “Moral Man, Immoral Society,” which explored the reasons why it seems to be much easier for people to be moral and good as individuals than it is for us to be moral and good as societies. When we come together as societies in the real world, it is very hard, impossible maybe, to negotiate all the competing needs and interests of everyone in a way that doesn’t trample over some for the sake of others.

Nations are going to be a mix of sheep and goat.

But Niebuhr is very clear this is no reason to give up on morality on a national scale and just give people in power a pass for bad behavior, and to cynically act like might makes right.

Just the opposite.

Christians who are not naïve to the reality of sin, who are not naïve about how we are all susceptible to the powers of sin, must work to ensure there is real and rigorous accountability for the ways sin can amplify through power. Christians have a responsibility to guard against impunity.

Niebuhr famously said, “Man’s capacity for justice makes democracy possible; but man’s inclination for injustice makes democracy necessary.”

There are real lives at stake, real dangers.

When Jesus sent his disciples out to heal and share the good news, he warned them about the dangers. His words to them are wisdom for Christians of all ages, who sincerely try to be emissaries for God’s Mercy in this world: “be as savvy and serpents, and as gentle as doves.” It’s about that balance.

This is why compassion often takes courage. It’s worth it, it’s worth the risk. Because every act of Mercy is a momentary glimpse of the Realm of Heaven on Earth. This is especially true in an atmosphere of mercilessness.

So, my friends, may we receive God’s Mercy and may we offer God’s Mercy as best we can for those who are most in need of some mercy.

The outcomes are not in our hands. We are not in control of history. But we each can do our part on behalf of the reality of God’s Realm, as we do our parts in the long struggle inclusive, just, and welcoming societies.

Thanks be to God.

Delivered Sunday, February 8, 2026, by Rev. Nathaniel Mahlberg, at the United Church of Christ at Valley Forge.

(Image: La Sagrada Familia by Kelly Lattimore)

*The word that is often translated in Matthew 25:13-46 as “eternal,” is the Greek word ainios, or the Hebrew olam. A more accurate translation is “an age or era or epoch” – a long period of time, but very rarely does it mean “forever.” The word that is often translated as “punishment” here means “chastisement” or “disciplinary correction.” This is distinct from the word that means a terminal kind of punishment like life imprisonment or a death sentence. See translation notes in The New Testament translation by David Bentley Hart, and his book, “That All Shall Be Saved.”

Matthew 25:31-46

[Jesus taught them, saying,]

“When the Son of Humanity comes in his glory and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. 

Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Abba, 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.’ 

Then the just will answer him, ‘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?’ 

And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.’ 

Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘You who are accursed, depart from me into the fire of the Age to come prepared for the Slanderer and his angels, for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ 

Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison and did not take care of you?’ 

Then he will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ 

And these will go away into the punishment of the Age to come but the just into the life of that Age.”