"Jesus and His Homies" (All Saints) | The Rev. A. E. Fiddler

Jesus and His Homies (All Saints) 

Preached by The Rev. A.E. Fiddler  Trinity Church New Haven 11/1/2026 

About 20 years ago. when I was still the rector here at Trinity,  a teacher at a local private school phoned me.  She was taking her 6th grade class on a tour of historic buildings in downtown New Haven and wondered if I could show them around Trinity Church.

A few days later, I met the class at the front door of the church and walked them down the center aisle.

One of the kids had a question right away.  Pointing in the direction of the high altar, she asked “Who are those statues?”

My heart sank. I felt like an idiot. At one time, I knew the identity of every statue behind the altar. But all I could remember  right then was Jesus, the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalene an assortment of Old Testament prophets and New Testament saints whose names I had completely forgotten.

I was about to say that they were “all saints”.

But before I could attempt that generic answer, one of the 6th grade kids supplied his own answer.  “I know who they are,” he said. “They’re Jesus and his homies.”

Jesus and his homies.  He was absolutely right.

“Homies.”  The word has a lot of shades of meaning.  It can mean your buddies, your gang, your posse.  But mostly it means people with whom you feel at home.

“Make yourself at home.”  That was at the heart of Christ’s radical welcome: “Abide in me.  Make your abode in me. Come unto me.  Make your home—make your home in me.”  Christ’s homies heard that radical welcome.  Christ’s homies heard it.  They heard it then.  And they hear it now.

It is altogether fitting and proper that statues of Jesus and his homies would adorn the altar at the front of the church.  But where is the front of the church? Where is the front of the church?

It’s a funny thing about church buildings.  When you’re INSIDE this church, the front of the church is the chancel, the altar, the statues of Jesus and his homies. 

And the back of the church is behind the back pews. And at the very back is something called “the front door.”

Because when you’re outside the church, the front of the church is the front door, the front steps, the front sidewalk.

Step OUTSIDE the church and everything is reversed.  The back becomes the front and the front becomes the back.

It reminds me of something Jesus said: “The last shall be first and the first shall be last.”

When you’re outside Trinity Church on the Green,  in  front of the church is the bus stop, the lower Green, City Hall, the court house, banks and offices and stores and downtown traffic.

And that’s where we find Jesus and his homies. Not statues but real people.  Living people. In front of the church. Waiting for the bus, passing time on the benches, living their lives.

  But just as I forgot the identities of some of those statues of saints, sometimes we all forget who Jesus and his homies are.

  Who are his living homies?  Who are his living saints?

Jesus gave us some help to jog our memories.  He told us who his homies are.  He said they are the last, the least, and the lost.

The last.  The least.  The lost.

Christ’s homies are the last. In a world that rewards winners, Christ’s homies are apt to come in last.  In a world that says might makes right, that only the strong survive, Jesus says “The meek shall inherit the earth.”  “And the last shall be first.”

Sometimes I think Jesus got that idea from his mother.  Before Christ was born, Mary wrote a hymn.  It was a hymn about the power of God, and she sang these words about God out loud: “He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble and meek.”  Mary praised a Lord who turned the values of the world upside down.

“The meek shall inherit the earth,” said Jesus.  “ And the last shall be first.”

Christ’s homies are also the least.  They are the least. Jesus called them his brothers and sisters.  And when you serve the least you serve Jesus himself. That’s what he told us.

Jesus said, “I was hungry and you gave me food, naked and you clothed me. I was a stranger, a foreigner, and you welcomed me.  For as you have done it unto one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you have done it unto me.”   Sometimes you can’t tell Jesus from  the least of his homies. Sometimes they ARE Jesus.

Sometimes they ARE Jesus.

His homies are also the lost.  They are lost.  Jesus said “There is great joy in heaven” when they are found.

In his parable of the Prodigal Son, Jesus likens the finding of the lost son to the resurrection of the dead.  When the lost son comes home, it is as if the dead have been raised.  It’s that big a deal.

When the lost son returns, his father says, “This my son was dead, and is alive again.  He was lost. And is found.”

They are all out there in front of the church: the last, the least, the lost.  All of them Christ’s homies. All of them alive. All of them have their home in Jesus.

About 25 years ago Trinity’s vestry, in its wisdom, decided to make the front of the church more welcoming.  

They launched a capital campaign to raise money to build a beautiful new stained glass window above the front door, to be lit from the inside so that Trinity would be more welcoming to all who passed by at night.

And they commissioned a sign to be mounted above that front window for all  who pass by in the daytime to see. The words on the sign were words from the Bible, which were words from Jesus himself, carved into hard wood.  These are his words:

“Come unto me all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.”

“Come unto me.”  “Abide in me.” “Make your home in me.” “Come home.”  These are the words from Christ himself, who stretched out his arms on the hard wood of the cross that all might come within the reach of his saving embrace.  Words addressed to his homies: “Come home.”

When I was in fourth grade I used to walk to school every day with a kid named Donnie who lived on my block.

Donnie’s father was a radio evangelist, and Donnie was something of a 9-year old evangelist himself.  He knew whole passages of the Bible by heart and could cite chapter and verse.

And at least once a month, on the way to school, he would ask me a question that went something like this: “Andy, have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal savior?”

I don’t remember his exact wording.  And I don’t remember my  own response other than it was probably some fourth grade wisecrack.

But what I remember most was his word “personal.”  Personal.

Since that time I’ve learned that all Christianity is personal.   It’s personal.

What I mean by that is that Christ’s homies are not just those people out there in front of the church.  They are not just other people.  

Christ’s homies are also you and me.  

I’ve lived long enough to figure out that  deep inside every human being—inside every child of God— is a part of us that is last, least, and lost.  Inside the heart of each one of us is a part that is last, least, and lost.

And one more thing.  I might be wrong about this, but I have a strong hunch that the only part of us that can HEAR the call of Jesus, the only part of us that can hear and respond to Christ’s call to make our home in him, the only part of us that can hear him at all, is the part of us that is last, least, and lost.

Deep down at the very core of our souls, the part of us that has ears to hear him is the part of us that is last, least, and lost.

  The last will hear him.  The least will hear him. The lost will hear him saying “Come unto me.” “Follow me.”  “Make your home in me.”

The disciples heard him then. They left their nets, and they followed him.  And we hear him now.

I’m reminded of the words of an old hymn.  We don’t sing it much any more, but the great Willie Nelson has revived it by singing it at the very end of his concerts.

He sings it at the end, because after you’ve sung these words, you’ve sung it all:

“Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, calling, calling for you and for me.  See, on the portals he’s waiting and watching, watching for you and for me.  Come home, come home.  Ye who are weary come home.”

Ye who are weary, come home.  Amen.