Jesus said to his disciples: “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit upon his glorious throne, and all the nations will be assembled before him. And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father. 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 drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’” (Matthew 25.31-36)
The Danish philosopher and writer Soren Kierkegaard, a man known for his parables as well as his philosophy, once told a story about a man who was walking down a city street when he saw a big sign in a window that said, “Pants pressed here.” Happy to see the sign, the man went home to gather up his clothes, which he carried to the shop, placing the heap on the counter.
Surprised, the shopkeeper said to the man, “What are you doing?” Confused, the man said, “Well, I brought my clothes here to be pressed, just like your sign says.” The owner answered the man, “Oh, you’ve got it all wrong. We don’t actually do those things here. We’re in the business of making signs.” And that, explained Kierkegaard, is the same problem with Christians. They present themselves as doing the work of Christ, but when people show up looking for love and action, they don’t see it.” Instead, Kiekegaard said, Christians answer, “Oh, no, we don’t actually love people here. We just talk about it.”
Obviously, Kierkegaard was offering a damning picture of Christians, based on his own experience and run-ins with them. As he saw it, they were empty vessels, or, as a modern phrase expresses the same sentiment, “all talk, no action.” It was, in short, much easier for those who claimed to follow Christ to talk about love of others than to actually love others.
Centuries before Kiekegaard, the English poet and playwright William Shakespeare said the same thing in a simple verse when he wrote these memorable words in one of his plays, “They do not love who do not show love.” Again, a true, even if damning, indictment of those whose mouths are full of talk, but whose actions are as empty as a desert landscape.
It is good for us to remember both of them, the Danish writer and the English playwright, as we ponder the passage from the Gospel of Matthew that is put before us today because, in effect, the Galilean Teacher called Rabbi Jesus, in the story that he tells us in that selection, says the same thing that these two other men would say centuries later. Words without actions are empty, simply sounds without substance, as meaningless as the gibberish from a baby’s mouth.
That story that Matthew relays to us is known as the parable of the sheep and the goats, or sometimes called the judgment of the nations. The first title refers to the separation of the inhabitants of the world into two groups, sheep and goats. The second title refers to the event–that is, the judgment of all peoples at the end of the world.
In effect, the second title is the more accurate, particularly given the context in which it is found. We are at the end of Rabbi Jesus’ ministry, the countdown to his crucifixion already commencing, the crucible around the corner. As we have seen in the last several weeks, Rabbi Jesus spends his last hours speaking of the judgment–positive and negative–that will come in time upon his followers.
By this point, he has already used three similar stories to express that judgment, first, the story of the wicked servant; second, the story of the wise and foolish maidens; and third, the story of the three servants, each of whom receives money from the master that they are to use wisely on his account. Each story carries the same theme, only the actors changing, while the theme remains the same.
Having studied these stories at length in the previous Sundays, we are familiar with the intent of Rabbi Jesus’ sharing these stories. They serve as serious reminders of the scrutiny of the actions of his followers by the Most High God whom he calls his Father in Heaven. Knowing that the time that he has with his followers is short, the clock soon to chime the hour, he wants it crystal clear to them that they will not get a free pass if they fail to follow his ways and do not put into practice his words.
This story of the sheep and the goats, then, is the last word he offers them and, as such, can be seen as the culmination of his teachings, his final lecture, so to speak. As such, it is to be understood as deadly serious. For the evangelist Matthew, this will be the last of Rabbi Jesus’ public teachings in his gospel. He leaves the lecture hall and begins the slow walk to Golgotha. Placed as it is at the end, the story carries the full weight of the gospel. Everything has been moving steadily towards this end point.
The plot of the story is precisely parsed. Presented by Rabbi Jesus as a prediction of the end times, the story tells of his return at a future time, not as a healer or teacher, but now as judge and jury. As such, he will render judgment on the world’s inhabitants, his assessment based on their actions that do or do not accord with his teachings.
Using the image of sheep and goats, Rabbi Jesus imagines the world separated into two groups, the division based on their actions or inaction. The first group is composed of the sheep who are put on his right and the second group is made up of the goats who are put on his left side. The separation is purposeful since the two groups soon enough will be differentiated in clear details.
However, the initial scenario that is presented to each group is the same, summarized in ordinary human needs known and experienced by one and all. “I was hungry. I was thirsty. I was a stranger. I was naked. I was sick. I was in prison.” The differentiation between the two groups is found in the reaction that each takes to these fundamental human needs. And judgment follows these reactions.
For the first group, the response is swift action. “You gave me food to eat. You gave me drink. You took me in. You clothed me. You visited me. You came to me.” For the second group, the response is inaction. “You didn’t give me food to eat. You gave me no drink. You didn’t take me in. You didn’t clothe me. You didn’t visit me when I was sick or in prison.”
Because the first group responded with actions that met the needs shown, they are called righteous and blessed. The judgment they receive for their response is full entry into the kingdom of God. The Just Judge says to them, “Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” Turning to his left, he addresses the second group, the group that did nothing. They are called accursed and their judgment is “the eternal fire that has been prepared for the devil and his angels.”
As we take a moment to look closer at the story, it becomes clear that Rabbi Jesus did not create these criteria for judgment. They are the same as those preached by the prophets of old who railed against the mistreatment of the widow, the orphan, and the foreigner, challenging the people of Israel to show to these marginal groups the same mercy that is the heartbeat of the Most High God.
So, the human needs that Rabbi Jesus presents in this story are found in the familiar faces of those ignored, neglected, and disenfranchised throughout human history. That is, the least, the last, the lost. And while Rabbi Jesus’ story is built on six fundamental needs, we should not walk away thinking the list is exhaustive. It is simply illustrative of the many needs that are found in the cries of the poor, the impotent, and the unprivileged.
What is original is the identification that Rabbi Jesus makes between these outcasts and himself, the identification found in the subject of each need, “I was hungry. I was thirsty. I was a stranger. I was naked. I was ill. I was in prison,” In short, he makes clear to his followers that he is at one with those who suffer, those who cry out, those who have no one and nothing.
As he has done throughout his ministry on earth, so he expects his followers to do. They are to serve the sick and the suffering, the weak and the weary, the despised and the diseased. And in serving “these least of my brothers,” Rabbi Jesus makes perfectly clear that his followers are, in fact, serving him. They are one and the same.
That reality is further emphasized and seconded in the seeming confusion of his followers on when they were supposed to have seen him hungry, thirsty, naked, in a strange land, sick, or in prison. “Lord, when did we see you hungry, and feed you; or thirsty, and give you a drink,” both groups ask in turn, allowing the Just Judge to cement the closeness between him and those lacking the necessities of life, telling them “whatever you did for one of the least brothers of mine, you did for me.”
Here, there is an important element in the story that we should not overlook. Neither group knew they were face to face with the Risen Lord when they found themselves confronted with the hungry, the homeless, and the humbled. In other words, the presence of the Lord is hidden. And yet, the righteous do the right thing.
And in responding to the needs of the oppressed with no intent or motive other than to do the right thing, no idea that they will be rewarded for their goodness and for their generosity, they prove themselves to be selfless servants without calculation and without gain. They have made the ways and words of Rabbi Jesus so much a part of their lives that they do not need to be spurred into action by any other reason than they know it is the right thing to do.
Today, we celebrate the Feast of Christ the King, the way that the Christian community has chosen to recognize the close of another liturgical year. The irony, of course, is that while Matthew presents the Risen Lord as “coming in glory and sitting upon his glorious throne” when he judges the world he also has made it abundantly clear that the presence of the same Lord and God is hidden in plain sight, found everyday before us in the poor and in the deprived, in the lost and the lonely, in the forgotten and in the godforsaken.
And what we do when we come face to face with those in need becomes the story of our lives and the stuff of our judgment. In those moments, we will prove ourselves either to be sheep or to be goats, to be true followers of Rabbi Jesus or wannabes who fail to meet the challenge of putting into action the ways and words of the Galilean Teacher.
Some years ago, an international student found herself pregnant, thousands of miles from home, desperate and despairing. Knowing of a pro life group in the local parish, she and a friend met with the head of the organization, hoping to find some means of support in her dire circumstances, at least at the start. At that point, anything would have helped.
Asking the man if there were any funds available to help with baby formula or diapers for the newborn, the single mom was met with a quick rebuttal. “Oh, we don’t do those things!”was the immediate response of the self-assured man, leaving her alone and wondering what exactly the words “pro life” meant to him.
His inaction proved once again that actions always speak louder than words. And the story that Rabbi Jesus tells at the end of his ministry, the story of the sheep and the goats, should leave no question as to where he stands. He makes it very clear that, in the end, humanity will be judged by its humanity or its inhumanity to those in need.
–Jeremy Myers
Sunday Brunch 