November

How Blessed Are You?

 

On this feast of All Saints we hear Jesus proclaim “The Beatitudes.” This may tell us about his idea of a saint.

Let us look.

First, what is a “beatitude”? It is a spoken declaration of the blessedness of a person. To be blessed, in plain words, means to be given a spiritual benefit, as for instance, “May the Lord bless you with a safe journey.” Or, “you are blest when you show mercy.” Often there is a condition involved: “The people who keep the law will be blest" (see Proverbs 29:18).

Jesus did not invent beatitudes: the First Testament has up to 50 examples of them. By Jesus’ time, people would have recognized one when it was spoken and would have been at home with it. Jesus gave nine of them in the Sermon on the Mount.

But there is something strange about his. Have you noticed?

(a) The first four seem to name bad things and call them good. Blessed are the poor (in spirit), the mourners, the meek, the hungry and thirsty. Jesus seems to be saying that “it is a blessing to be weak and unhappy.”

Why would he use the beatitude form in this way?

Because he is radically innovative. Radical [from the Latin radix, root] means that he is rooted deeply in God, who is the profound wellspring of life and love, not in some other place nearer the surface. These first four beatitudes are actually assurances to people who suffer—the displaced, the abandoned. Jesus is saying that they too are blessed and much loved by God.

(b) The next three more resemble the ancient form: Blessed are the merciful, the clean of heart, and the peacemakers. These three sound reasonable, if a bit bland. But actually they are a spiritual step upwards from the first four. They are encouragements to people who want to take action in the world on behalf of the Kingdom. Their blessedness consists of being at work with Jesus as a companion.

(c) Then come the last two, which are stunning: “Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness.” And, “Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you. … ” These sound like curses, not blessings. Who could want them? Yet they too are an enhancement of what precedes them. They presume that you might actually want to participate in Jesus’ ultimate act of love, a love which cuts through false honor, wealth, and pride. Maybe you will be called to take up the cross with Jesus. Such radical love is blessed because it comes from being so close to God, whose very identity is love.

So we find at least three stages of ascent in the following of Jesus: (1) suffering, (2) working for others, and (3) persecution endured as a result. The saints are examples in each of these areas because of their love for God and others. This is the very root of happiness, or “blessedness.”

The question for you and me is whether we even begin to be attracted in any way to such categories. We can take a review of our lives and get an idea. If we do not fit into them, we can meditate on this question: how strong is our desire for anything at all? Can we “desire to desire” regarding an openness to Jesus and to his Father? We do not have to want persecution yet, but what do we want?

Maybe it is simple: the blessedness he speaks about.

First Reading

Revelation 7:2-4, 9-14

1. “Those who would speak the truth of the storm from inside the center of it cannot expect to live without being tossed around by winds.”* Can you think of others besides Oscar Romero and Dorothy Day who have suffered because they have spoken out for reform and who could now stand before the Lamb? Do you encounter resistance to the values of Christianity in your life?

*Joan Chittister, The Time is Now.

2. Do you find opposition or indifference to Catholic values of social justice? What do you do, especially when people are suffering because of this unconcern? What would you like to do?

 

Second Reading

1 John 3:1-3

1. In Thornton Wilder’s play, Our Town, Emily says, “does anyone ever realize life while they live it ... every, every minute?” The stage manager responds, “No. Saints and poets maybe ... they do some.” Why might saints understand every minute of life? Can you relate it to the following line from this reading: “The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him.”? Do the saints and poets know God?

2. If God is always present, hovering over us like a mother hen, why does God not just jump right in and save us from all the messes we get into?

 

Gospel

Matthew 5:1-12a

1. Moses received the ten commandments on the mountain. Compare and contrast this with Jesus giving the beatitudes in his sermon on the mount. Jesus is defining his own life with the beatitudes, isn’t he? What part of your life do you define with beatitudes?

2. Pope Francis pointed out that all the saints were different from each other, and each developed their own life of holiness according to their own personality. In what small or large way can you answer the universal call to holiness with your personality? Vote? Recycle? Donate food for the hungry? Volunteer in a shelter? Participate in a peace march? Run for political office to make change?

Dear brothers and sisters, choosing these, purity, meekness and mercy; choosing to entrust oneself to the Lord in poverty of spirit and in affliction; dedicating oneself to justice and peace—all this means going against the current in respect to this world’s mindset, in respect to the culture of possession, of meaningless fun, of arrogance against the weakest. This evangelical path was trodden by the Saints and Blesseds. Today’s solemnity that honors All Saints reminds us of the personal and universal vocation to holiness, and proposes sure models for this journey that each person walks in a unique way, an unrepeatable way. It is enough to think of the inexhaustible variety of gifts and real life stories there are among the saints: they are not all the same. … Each one of us can do it, take this path: meekness, meekness, please, and we will head toward holiness.

Angelus for All Saints

Nov 1, 2020

Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.” (Gospel)

Against An Eternal Horizon

We understand our lives best when we see them against the horizon of the infinite. Nowhere is this more important than in the belief that there is a life beyond this one.

Today it is not always fashionable to say this. More and more, theologians and spiritual writers are either ignoring the importance of life after death or, worse still, positively denigrating any emphasis one might want to put on it. For example:

A few years ago, I was watching a discussion on television between a prominent religious commentator and a panel of theologians representing a number of Christian churches. The commentator asked the panel this question: “Should it make any difference in the way you live whether or not you believe in life after death?”

Everyone on the panel and the host himself agreed that it shouldn’t. In their view of things, whether or not you believe in life after death shouldn’t make any difference practically in the way you live. Each asserted that they believed in individual immortality, but each also said that this didn’t, and shouldn’t, influence their daily actions in a practical way.

Moreover they pushed things further: Several of them suggested that focusing on belief in life after death can be positively harmful because it can deflect a person off of the proper agenda for this life, work against strong involvement in this world, and tie one immaturely to a system of rewards and punishments. Belief in life after death, for them, can throw off the proper focus for life in this world.

What’s to be said about this?

There’s a certain commendable stoicism in it to be sure, but, at the end of the day, such a view of things is religiously false and wreaks a certain havoc in our lives.

What’s wrong is not that God, or anyone else, is disappointed with our theological inconsistency. What’s wrong is that we are more prone to do violence to ourselves and to others because life cannot give us what we want.

Simply put, when we stop believing in life after death we tend to put too much pressure on this life to give us the full symphony. When we stop seeing our lives as being completed by something beyond the present world, it becomes natural to become more frustrated with the limits of our lives and to begin to demand, however subtly or unconsciously, that our spouses, children, friends, careers, jobs, and vacations give us something they can’t give, namely, complete fulfillment, full meaning, final satisfaction, joy beyond frustration, ecstasy, heaven.

When we stop, practically, believing in a heaven beyond this life, we too easily demand that we have a taste of heaven right now. Crassly stated, if this life is our only kick at the cat, it’s becomes pretty hard to handle the fact that this one kick at it is almost always a long, long ways from what we would want it to be. None of us goes through this life without our share of bitter disappointment, crushed potential, broken dreams, and daily frustration. Our lives are never the way we dreamed them to be. There’s always a huge gap between our dignity, our desire, our potential, and the actual state within which we find ourselves. We come into this world over-charged, are all too soon beaten-up, and never quite find the end of the rainbow. There are no perfect lives. There is no heaven this side of eternity.

All of us have suffered abuse of body and heart. All of us have been unjustly robbed of our potential. All of us live inside situations of tension, bitterness, gossip, and hatred. All of us suffer a certain silence between ourselves and those we most love, and all of us suffer the absence of full embrace and sexuality in our lives. None of us have the whole symphony and none of have joy without shadow. All of us too live with a history of bad choices, mistakes, sins, and opportunities missed.

Thus, unless we can somehow place our present lives against an horizon of an after-life that completes it, the punishing limits, daily inadequacy, and brute mortality of this world will eventually drive us to depression, bitterness, or violence. Outside of a vision of life after death, we can’t come to full peace with this life, the sophisticated stoicism of so much of contemporary theology and spirituality notwithstanding.

In one of the parables, Jesus points out how those servants who do not expect their master’s return go about getting drunk and beating their fellow-servants. This image of violence is precisely a metaphor for the type of violence we do to life and to each other when we do not see our lives against the horizon of the master’s return.

Conversely, when we do await the master’s return we don’t have to demand that this life give us more than it can and we can more easily live without impatience, bitterness, and violence, even inside of lives that are far from complete.

Getting Ready to Pray

I write this with some tenderness. Years ago, my younger brother died suddenly of a heart attack. I am sure most of you have lost close ones.

When we ask the natural question, “why” we get an understandable answer. God was testing them like gold in the fire.

No. Our faith may be tested by our intellects as they struggle to make sense of loss and death, but we cannot hold that God, who is infinite love, would torture for the sake of purification.

The souls of the “just” are in the hand of God. My brother was a “just” man, in our eyes, but did God knew him in the same way?

Some Thoughts

The Gospel (Matthew 5:1-12a) contains seven invitations to holiness are the orientational program for those who will follow Jesus through this life into the next.

This would have been a good Gospel for Terry. As I said at his funeral so long ago, “Terry had many problems with God; God did not have any problems with Terry.” It is a good checklist for our examining the lives of those whom we grieve, even now, even for years.

The poor in spirit, How did he/she live a spirit of sharing, receiving, spreading life around? Were they aware of their gifts and not keep them to themselves? My brother gets a straight A for this first question. How about your own departed? I judge that the kingdom of God is theirs as Jesus has said.

Did my brother mourn? When our mother died, Terry, then thirty, could not go into the funeral parlor for the wake. He just stood outside the room and kept saying, “She loved me like a rock.” If our siblings, friends, parents were ones who loved, then they mourned. Terry gets a second A for loving enough to grieve the losses of life because of injustice and cruelty. You can give a grade to your lost-ones and rejoice that they now are being comforted.

Meek? The meek are not the weak, they are self-possessed enough to withstand insults and keep standing for what’s good and true. A plus, plus for Terry on this one. The meek inherit the land by not having spent their lives fighting for turf. What’s the mark for your lost?

The merciful and peacemakers have experienced peace in their lives by experiencing mercy. Terry labored hard to unite family members, unite Catholic young Americans with Protestant teens from Northern Ireland. I hear Jesus saying big Irish A as Terry sees God. Jesus, shouting his acceptance to those who allowed peace and mercy to come in and then spread it around. How do your past-ones hear the shout you give them?

Enough. The Readings did get a lot better for our celebrating how we were touched by those who did more than just visit this earth. We pray, perhaps with tears, gratefully for the gifts of not having been left alone, but accompanied by such souls, such saints.

Though I walk in the valley of darkness,
I fear no evil, for you are with me.

Psalm 23:4ab

Be Watchful, Be Ready
The theme of the Gospel is: “Be watchful and ready.” We are in a condition of awaiting something or someone important, and we don’t know when the arrival will take place. Hence the advice: “keep your eyes open, for you know not the day or the hour.”

The liturgy combines this reading with a passage from Wisdom, suggesting that what we are awaiting is the arrival of wisdom: “he who watches for her at dawn shall not be disappointed.”

When will we finally understand what we need to know in order to live together as brothers and sisters?

When will we get the wisdom to place the one true God ahead of our petty gods of power, possessions, and pleasure? When will we be inspired with the wisdom to overcome our social ills? We do not know when, and so we must be watchful and ready, otherwise the moment will pass us by.

One thing we do know: wisdom “makes her own rounds, seeking those worthy of her.” Those will not be found worthy who do not listen to the Scriptures, or to their own experiences, or to the sufferings of those around them. The message to them will be tragic: “I tell you, I do not know you.”

We do not know the time for the consummation of the earth and of humanity, nor do we know how all things will be transformed. As deformed by sin, the shape of this world will pass away; but we are taught that God is preparing a new dwelling place and a new earth where justice will abide, and whose blessedness will answer and surpass all the longings for peace which spring up in the human heart.

Vatican II, Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, 1965:39  

Focusing the Gospel

Key words and phrases: the bridegroom was long delayed, the bridegroom came, those who were ready went into the wedding feast
To the point: In this gospel parable the five wise virgins can well afford to sleep, for they are prepared with plenty of oil.

The five foolish virgins also sleep during the long delay, but they should have been busy procuring the oil they need to greet the bridegroom and enter the feast.

Jesus is warning us in this parable that the here-and-now is an important readying for his second coming, and we cannot afford to sleep it away!

Connecting the Gospel …

… to the First Reading: The First Reading reveals that wisdom is a virtue given to all those who seek her, Even before our desire and our watching for wisdom, she comes to us.

In the Gospel, the Bridegroom’s coming is assured even before we desire or watch for the Bridegroom.

… to experience: We rarely, if ever, view our daily Christian living in light of the final coming of Christ. But his final coming is, in fact, the promise that gives ultimate meaning to our daily behavior and our ongoing hope.

Nietzsche’s Nemesis

“What the world considers absurd.” 

Zephaniah wanted God’s people to seek justice and pursue humility (Zephaniah 3:12). But he knew that such a community would always be a minority. “I will leave as a remnant in your midst a people humble and lowly, who will take refuge in the name of the Lord”.

Such are the people Jesus calls: not necessarily wise, as humans account wisdom, nor vastly influential, nor well born, but surely countercultural in the way they address the secular order. 

God chose those whom the world considers absurd, to shame the wise. He singled out the weak to shame the strong. He chose the low and despised, who count for nothing, to reduce to nothing those who were something; so that mankind can do no boasting before God.

It is Christ who is our justice, our redemption, our sanctification, our wisdom. This confounds any mentality which seeks self-justification or pursues fulfillment through earthly goods. To such a mind-set, Christ’s wisdom is unrealistic, even foolhardy. It certainly contradicts our way of imagining human happiness.

To get a sense of Jesus’ radical reversal of our common sense, just look at the Sermon on the Mount. For our part, we want abundance, control, and authority to conquer the kingdoms of the earth. For his, wisdom affirms that only the poor in spirit can achieve the reign of God.

We want more than all else to avoid pain and suffering. In fact most of our operating ethical systems rest upon the principle of maximizing pleasure. Yet Jesus says that those who open themselves to sorrow will find ultimate consolation.

We bristle at being overlooked, passed by, neglected, unappreciated. “We’re number one” is the roaring chant of our arenas, our nationalism, our special-interest groups, our petty hurts. But Jesus says that the lowly inherit the land.

We scavenge to inflate ourselves with things, projects, people; but the Sermon on the Mount counsels us to abide in our hunger for holiness, to live with a thirst for justice.

With divided hearts and tawdry desires, we wonder why we still feel so unhappy. He says that in purity of heart and whole-heartedness we will find bliss and see God.

And peacemakers? Those do-gooders, those bleeding hearts? See how far that will get them in the “real” world. Most often they are held in contempt, even by Christians.

Perhaps that is why Jesus thinks his followers will be persecuted for holiness’ sake. His wisdom is such an insult to natural cleverness. The Sermon on the Mount will be ridiculed as “wimp-dom,” not wisdom.

Friedrich Nietzsche labeled the Beatitudes as prescriptions for sheep and slaves. He knew what a devastating challenge Christ was to his visions of the “superman.” It was only fitting, then, that when Nietzsche titled his last howl of power and aggression, he called it the Anti-Christ.

Still, Nietzsche saw the revolutionary import of Christ’s teachings. It has been the fate of some Christians blithely to bear the name of Christ without ever having weighed his startling words.

The Communion of Saints

On these first days of November, we celebrate two feasts—All Saints and All Souls—which draw us into one of the most consoling doctrines of the Roman Catholic faith, the communion of saints. Our tradition has learned to speak of three “states of the church”: pilgrimage, purification, and glory. 

We (roughly two billion) baptized Christians currently alive on planet Earth trek on in the state of pilgrimage. Those who have died in the grace of God are either in the state of glory (united fully with God in heaven) or are moving through a process of purification (continuing their pilgrimage, in a sense) toward the state of glory.

The teaching on the communion of saints provides the context for these feasts, since it is that doctrine that acknowledges the union, enabled by baptism and Eucharist, that exists between the living and the dead. The doctrine rests in part on the conviction that any good done by one part of the community that is the body of Christ impacts on the rest of that body. This entails especially prayer of petition and reparation, and it transcends the apparent barrier of death moving both ways, from the living to the (biologically) deceased and from them to us. 

That is true all year long, of course, but the Church chooses these two days to wake us up to our communal connection with those who have gone before us.

We can enjoy what the media and the marketplace do with the fun and fantasy of Halloween and el dia de los muertos, but the Scripture readings remind us of the realities behind the folklore. The apocalyptic imagery of Revelation presents first the stylized picture of 144,000 from every tribe of Israel. But, lest we think this is a literal census of those who have achieved the state of glory (precisely 144,000 places and no waiting list), the passage goes on to describe those in heaven in another image, “a great multitude which no one could count from every nation, race, people, and tongue.” (Attention to this passage alone should be enough to cure anyone of biblical fundamentalism.)

If we think we have a clear idea of what the blessed enjoy, the Second Reading reminds us “we are God's children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed.” But documented testimony, authenticated miracles, and the scrutiny of devil's advocates have assured us that many of our faith community have indeed arrived at the state of glory. And the Beatitudes of the Gospel remind us that the state of the blessed is an invitation to all of us to recognize our need for God and to act upon it.

Are We There Yet?

How can it be that the “typical questions” of children pass down from generation to generation?

They do.

Our family car was half way to Colorado and I was about six or seven and I clearly remember asking my mother that famous, time-honored question, “Mommy, are we there yet?” It was a real question, and I wasn’t quoting someone else, so I thought.

By now I have heard child after child ask exactly the same question of a parent, in exactly the same words. Maybe it is an innate instinct, like geese flying south or robins pulling up worms.

As we become mature, we human beings do learn to wait, to live with the “not yet.” We call it “delayed gratification.” We may want to be home, for instance, but to get there from work, we might have to walk to the bus stop, wait for the #10, hand over the fee, stand until there is a seat, sit down at long last, wait some more, get off, walk 50 blocks (it seems), unlock the door, and finally, finally, finally, put our feet up and relax. Some days this can be annoying, but usually “we get used to it.”

But we shouldn’t get overly used to it. That is the point of this week’s readings. Since we are not children, we can overlook the joy or pleasure when our goal finally arrives. Do you even remember to taste food when you finally get your dinner? Did you remember to enjoy in quiet detail the friend you haven’t seen (at least virtually) in a year?

Sunday’s First Reading reminds us peacefully and beautifully to watch for God at dawn; to keep vigil because Wisdom (the Holy Spirit of God) actually is searching for those who are waiting. The Responsorial Psalm boldly names our craving for God! It says, “my soul is thirsting for you, O Lord my God.” And, the Gospel adds, stay awake, make preparations. Do not be foolish. Do not forget to be ready.

We are like parched ground without rain. We have huge fractures in our surface. Our souls ache for the gentle, courteous and tender outpouring God wants to do—not a thing like hurricanes or floods, but like a mother feeding her newborn.

Let’s face it. You and I desire God more than anything else. At the center of our souls is a thirst that will never be slaked unless the God of all creation comes in person to be living water for us.

“Your kindness is a greater good than life,” the psalm says to God.

What? But life is so essential, so to be preserved, so valuable that we fight like a cornered wolf when it is threatened. Even so, in spite of all our flurry, God’s delicious kindness is a far greater good than anything else we know, greater even than being alive. It is worth the wait, no matter how long.

So, be excited like a child. Let yourself say “I want,” like kids do. But also, be calm like an adult. Know that when our desires are thwarted we can wait, as wisdom waits for us.

First Reading

Wisdom 6:12-16

1. In this reading people are looking for Wisdom at the same time that Wisdom is searching for them. What does your “wanting wisdom” do for your “receiving wisdom”? Explain the following line from this reading. “…Whoever watches for her at dawn shall not be disappointed, for he shall find her sitting by his gate.”

2. How is wisdom different from knowledge? Does either one enable you to see beyond the surface of things into their depths? Where do you think wisdom is most needed in your life? Can you think of any part of life on earth that does not need some wise knowledge?

Second Reading

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18 or 4:13-14

1. Is there anything you would do differently if you thought your own “end time” was soon to come?

2. If people have been “caught up” with Christ (loving God and loving their neighbor with compassion) do you think there will be a big difference for them once they have “fallen asleep”?

Gospel 

Matthew 25:1-13

1. Jesus’ parable is about being watchful and well prepared. What kinds of things would you do to make sure you were one of those “who were ready”? Have compassion on the sick? On the homeless? the planet? victims of prejudice? When you watch for God in your life do you sometimes “doze off”?

2. What is the “oil of charity” that Pope Francis refers to in his Angelus discussion of the parable of the ten virgins?

It is clear that with this parable, Jesus wants to tell us that we must be prepared for the encounter with him. Not only for the final encounter, but also for the everyday great and small encounters, with a view to that encounter for which the lamp of faith is not enough; we also need the oil of charity and good works. 

… When one makes the present absolute, one looks only to the present, losing the sense of expectation, which is so beautiful and so necessary, and also pulls us away from the contradictions of the moment. This attitude—when one loses the sense of expectation—precludes any view of the hereafter: we do everything as if we will never depart for the other life. 

… We must live today, but a today that goes towards tomorrow, towards that encounter, a present full of hope. … The Lord will be able to come even while we are sleeping: this will not worry us, because we have the reserve of oil accumulated through our daily good works, accumulated with that expectation of the Lord, that he may come as soon as possible and that he may come to take us with him.

Pope Francis, Nov. 8, 2020

Angelus for 32 Ord A

Things Hidden from the Learned and the Clever

 

I’ve lived and worked within academic circles for most of my adult life, studying in various universities, teaching within university circles, and having university professors as close friends and colleagues. What’s that world like? What kind of folks inhabit academic circles?

Perhaps my experience is atypical because most of the scholars under whom I studied and most of the theologians and other scholars who have been my colleagues became professors and university lecturers in function of ministry, as a vocation, rather than as a career. Thus, instead of struggling with faith and church, they were driven to become academics in function of their faith and church commitments. In some ways, professors in theology schools and schools of ministry aren’t typical of academic circles.

But an academic is an academic and graduate and post-graduate studies, whatever the motivation for doing them, have some of the same effect on people. And so I suspect that the circles I have been part of, in the end, are more typical than atypical. And what is typical?

Academics, scholars, and university professors, like any segment of society, are a complex mix: In university circles you will find some of the most humble, gracious, faith-filled, and genuinely good people you will ever meet; just as you will also find some of the most arrogant, self-absorbed, amoral, and cynical people in the world. The academic world looks like the rest of the world.

Given that truth, I have long been haunted by a saying of Jesus that, often times, the deep secrets of life and of faith are hidden from the learned and the clever and revealed instead to children, to those of a less-complex mind. I don’t doubt the truth of this; I wonder why.

Why? Clearly intelligence and learning are good things. Intelligence is the gift from God that sets us apart from animals and access to learning is a precious right given us by God. Indeed, ignorance and lack of education are things every healthy society and every healthy individual strive to overcome. Scripture praises both wisdom and intelligence and the health of any church is partly predicated on having a vigorous intellectual stream within it. Every time in history that the church has let popular piety, however sincere, trump sound theology it has paid a high price. The Reformation arose out of just that and one of the first things that the Council of Trent mandated for Roman Catholics was that its priests be better trained intellectually.

Intelligence and learning are good things. God did not give us intelligence and then ask us not to use it. Naiveté is not a virtue and should never be confused with innocence. So why is being “intelligent and clever” something that can work against our understanding of the deeper secrets within life and faith?

The fault is not with intelligence and learning, both good things in themselves, but in what they can inadvertently do to us. Intelligence and learning often have the unintended effect of undermining what’s childlike in us, that is, the very strength that they bring into our lives can allow us to unconsciously claim a superiority and have us believe that, given our intelligence, we have both the need and the right to isolate ourselves from others in ways that the natural neediness of children does not permit them to do. Children are not self-sufficient even though they fiercely want to be. They need others and they know it. Consequently they more naturally reach out and take someone’s hand. They don’t have the luxury of self-sufficiency.

When we are “learned and the clever” we can more easily forget that we need others and consequently don’t as naturally reach for another’s hand as does a child. It’s easier for us to isolate ourselves. When we are less aware of our contingency we more easily lose sight of the things to which God and life are inviting us. The very strength that intelligence and learning bring into our lives can instill in us a false sense of self-sufficiency that can make us want to separate ourselves in unhealthy ways from others and understand ourselves as superior In some way. And superiority never enters a room alone, but always brings along a number of her children: arrogance, disdain, boredom, cynicism. All of these are occupational hazards for the “learned and the clever” and none of these helps unlock any of life’s deep secrets.

But we must be careful not to misread the lesson. Faith does not ask us not to stretch our minds. Neither ignorance nor naiveté serve faith. Faith not only doesn’t fear the hard questions it invites us to ask them. The depths of infinity are never threatened by finite intelligence. And so it’s never a bad thing to become learned and sophisticated; it’s only a bad thing is we remain there. The task is to become post-sophisticated, that is, to remain full of intelligence and learning even as we put on again the mindset of a child.

Commentary Attributed to Anthony

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” since purity of heart leads to perfection. Two things are contained within the heart—goodness which is natural to it and evil which is unnatural. This latter gives rise to such passions of the soul as murmuring, envy, detraction, and all the rest.

Goodness, on the other hand, promotes knowledge of God and rids the soul of all these passions. If people honestly try to root out vice and avoid evil, if they repent with tears and sighs, devoting themselves humbly to a life of prayer, fasting, and watching, the Lord in his goodness will come to their aid and free them from all sinful inclinations.

I want you to be free and faithful and pure brides of Christ, the Bridegroom of all holy souls
Many who have lived a celibate monastic life for a long time have failed to learn what purity of heart is, because instead of studying the teaching of the fathers, they have followed their own wayward desires. So evil spirits and rebel marauders of the air have prevailed against them, hurling invisible darts by day and night, and thus preventing them from finding rest anywhere. Moreover they fill their hearts with pride, vanity, jealousy, criticism, raging anger, strife, and any number of other passions.

Such people are to be reckoned with the five foolish virgins because they have spent their time foolishly. They have not controlled their tongues nor cleansed their eyes and bodies from concupiscence, neither have they purged their hearts of lust and other deplorable defilements. It was enough for them merely to wear a woolen garment signifying virginity. Consequently they lack the heavenly joy which would kindle their lamps, and the Bridegroom does not open the door to them but repeats what he said to the foolish virgins: “Truly I say to you, I know you not.”

My only reason for writing you this letter is my desire for your salvation. I want you to be free and faithful and pure brides of Christ, the Bridegroom of all holy souls; as Saint Paul says: “I betrothed you to one husband to present you as a chaste virgin to Christ.” (2 Cor 11:2)

Let us awake, then, while we are still in this body, and grieve overourselves, lamenting day and night from the bottom of our hearts, so that we may escape the bitter torment, the weeping, wailing, and remorse that will have no end.

We must beware of entering through the wide gate and taking the easy road that leads to perdition, for many go that way. Instead we must enter by the narrow gate and take the path of sorrow and affliction that leads to life. Few people enter this gate, but those who do are real workers who will have the joy of receiving the reward of their labors and will inherit the kingdom.

If any are prepared to set out, I do beg them not to delay and waste time, for they may be like the foolish virgins and find no one willing to sell them oil. These virgins burst into tears and cried out: “Lord, open to us.” But he answered: “Truly I say to you, I know you not.” And this happened to them simply because of their laziness.

I beg you by the grace of God to obey me as I also will obey you; and may we all obey the Lord who said by the tongue of the Prophet: “Who longs for life and desires to see good days? Keep your tongue from evil talk and your lips from deceitful speech. Turn away from evil and do good; seek and strive after peace.”

Letter 20: PG 40, 1056-1058 1061

“You do not know the hour.” (Mt 25:13)

Postponement

Wisdom is unfading in splendor. She is found if she is sought. We must watch for her at dawn. “Whoever for her sake keeps vigils shall quickly he free from care.” Wisdom makes her rounds, gracious and solicitous.

What is Wisdom that we might learn from her? We all look for sound judgment and keen insight. We seek depth of mind for an anchor. We await days when, free of illusion and pretense, we will see things as they really are and discern the gifts worth cherishing.

Freed, for a moment, by Wisdom from my cares, I felt the end times.
Everybody values, but few value what is valuable. Wisdom is not so much knowing what one values as it is valuing something that is worthy of our care. We celebrate choice, but choices are a dime a dozen. What is rare is the wise choice.

As we approached the last few days, months, and years of the millennium, voices were raised, as if inspired by wisdom, announcing the “end times.” Readings from the gospels or letters like today’s to the Thessalonians were hauled out to predict the parousia, once again. Ears perked up, expectant for God’s trumpet and the archangel’s call. There were voices of prediction and perdition. Magazines ran articles on the Book of Revelation. Talk shows chattered about the “rapture.” Most of it was clap-trap, little of it wise.

We have a Gospel. It portrays ten bridesmaids, five of them foolish, five wise. The foolish ones have brought no oil reserve for their lamps, in case the first allotment runs out. The groom is late. Finally, he appears at midnight. The unprepared call out to the others, “Give us some oil.” But the provident tell the foolish to get their own. And so the chance is missed, the door barred, even as those left behind cry for opening. It is too late. The moral of the story: “Keep your eyes open, for you know not the day or the hour.”

There’s the wisdom. We never know the hour or the day. All ten bridesmaids, recall, were asleep. The difference was that five of them were prepared. The point is not that we should calculate when destiny might arrive. It is that we should be ready for it every moment of our lives.

Readings that deal with the “end times” are not prognostications of the future, even though, with the church’s year-end apocalyptic texts, we are reminded of the “four last things.” That can be instructive, yes; but it is far wiser to think of the things that last. It is a mistake to take such passages as occult predictions concerning the end of the world. It is far wiser to see them as a way to wisdom at the start of each day. Each day may be our last. The farewell we give might never be given again. We may not see another day.

To be wise, then, is not to calculate the time of departure. It is to spend the present moment—the waiting—well.

We rush through time to get things done. When we are not getting things done, we think we are wasting time. But the real waste of time is the way we rush through it. We may think we are active, but we are really inattentive. In hurrying to prepare ourselves for things not yet upon us, we are unprepared for what is here. And sooner or later, our gas runs out.

Almost ten years ago I made what I later thought was a foolish commitment. In a rash moment I volunteered to spend a year in Africa. Regretting my big mouth during the days following, this journey seemed to be the last thing I should do in my mid-forties, especially since I had so many other things to do, promises to keep, deadlines to make.

I had imagined myself vigilant and alert, so busy about the things of God and earth that I could barely keep up with life. A feeling of being “always rushed” had beset me. I began to resent the friends or students who would come to my door for talk, since they were taking up my time. (This was an ironic paradox: all I ever wanted was to “help” and be with people, the very gift that was getting on my nerves.)

I remember on the long trip, first to Australia and then over an endless sea to the coast of Africa, how I rued that impetuous act of volunteering. I had so much to do. And here I was letting a year of my life disappear in a village on the edge of Harare, Zimbabwe.

It took about a month for gracious and solicitous Wisdom to show her face. After weeks of quiet walks, gentle and unrushed conversations with Shona and Ndebele, fewer compulsions to keep up with news, sports, weather, and all the ephemeral opinion columns I daily consumed, Wisdom made her rounds to me—not when I was watching for her at dawn, but at the moment of a day’s dusk.

Sitting on a porch overlooking a valley unknown to and unmentioned by almost everyone in history, I beheld the meaning of a day. Freed for a moment by Wisdom from my cares, I felt the end times.

It was all opportunity. It is all now.

The last things are the lasting things: this moment of gratitude, this one gift of another breath, this particular person before me, this chance to hope, this hour to believe. It is all now.

Eternity is now. And God is with us. All that we need is to be alert.

At life’s end, no matter what the hour or day, we will only welcome the presence to whom, in our rare wise times, we have learned to be attentive.

Therefore, stay awake, for you know neither the day nor the hour. (Matt 25:13)

Wisdom's Readiness

A while back I was interviewed by phone on a local radio talk show. The occasion was the apparent crescendo of catastrophes in recent months —hurricanes, floods, earthquakes. And the leading question was: “are these the end-times? Are these the final disasters predicted in the book of Revelation?” My answer:

According to the New Testament writers the end-times commenced with the advent of Jesus, especially after his death and resurrection. So we have been in the end-times for nearly two thousand years. As for the end of the end-times, the Bible gives us no clues for calculating that. The author of Revelation is more interested in how to face the future in the light of a past event—the Easter victory of the Lamb that was slain.

I won't try to reconstruct the entire interview, but it was enough to remind me that both Jesus and his New Testament interpreters are quite clear that the times and seasons of God's future end-time activity are none of our business. Mark 13:32 should be enough to make that clear: “But of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but the Father alone.” The verse that follows tells us where our concerns should be focused: “Be watchful! Be alert! You do not know when the time will come.”

All of which should help us appreciate the import of this Sunday's Gospel. Regarding the end—be it one's own death or the end of the world—the point is not the knowledge of when but the wisdom of readiness.

To hear clearly the parable of the wise and foolish “groomsmaids,” it helps to have in mind what Matthew's readers would have known about Near Eastern marriage customs. First, the women—simply called “virgins” in the Greek—are not best described with the familiar rendering “bridesmaids,” for the context suggests that they belong to the groom's party. The scenario appears to be the following. Since the wedding party would occur at the groom's house (or that of his father), the young women are part of his entourage sent out to form a welcoming party as he brings his bride home. The delay is likely due to the customary and ceremonious discussion of the bride-price with his father-in-law (the longer the delay, the greater the father's insistence on the worth of his daughter?).

Having reached the welcoming point, the ten settle down to wait, get drowsy, and fall asleep. When a voice heralds the approach of the groom, and presumably the bride, five (called “foolish”) discover they are low on oil and run off to buy some. By the time the groom's entourage, accompanied by the five wise virgins, join the full wedding party, the foolish ones find themselves locked out. Their shout of “Lord, Lord, open the door” is answered by the chilling response, “Amen, I say to you, I do not know you.”

The rest of Matthew's Gospel tells us all we need to know to hear the meaning of this parable. Like the parables that frame it, the story symbolizes something about living life in view of the final coming of Christ and what it means to be ready for that moment of joy (to be wise), or deserve judgment (to be foolish).

And what precisely does it mean to be ready in the way symbolized by the wise possession of oil? The scenario here in this fifth and last speech in Matthew is fully anticipated in the first speech, the Sermon on the Mount. There too we hear of people, who had even prophesied and healed in Jesus' name, shouting “Lord, Lord” and hearing Jesus say, “I never knew you.” As in the groomsmaids story, we hear of wise activity (building on rock) and foolish activity (building on sand). The speech leaves no doubt that wisdom here means hearing the word of Jesus and doing it, and foolishness is failing to do so. Having enough oil parallels building on rock (disciplining one's anger, lust, and vengefulness, Mt 5), running the household responsibly (Mt 24:45), investing one's talents fully (Mt 25:20-23), and doing the corporal works of mercy spelled out in the climax of this speech—feeding the hungry, quenching the thirsty, receiving the stranger, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and imprisoned.

The parables about the parousia of Christ have nothing to say about calculating the end, but they have much to say about living in readiness. The deepest wisdom and fullest readiness, it turns out, is to live chastely, honestly, nonviolently (Mt 5). and to meet our neighbors’ basic needs (Mt 25). Place yourself among the five wise women with the full jugs of oil. When the Lord comes, join the party. Now place yourself among the five foolish ones with next to no oil. When you hear of the Lord's arrival, dash to the mall to buy some, turn up at the party, and find yourself locked out. You have just done a meditation on heaven and hell. Reflect on what Matthew teaches regarding what it takes to live wisely. 

Focusing the Gospel

Key words and phrases: the bridegroom was long delayed, the bridegroom came, those who were ready went into the wedding feast

To the point: In this Gospel parable the five wise virgins can well afford to sleep, for they are prepared with plenty of oil.

The five foolish virgins also sleep during the long delay, but they should have been busy procuring the oil they need to greet the bridegroom and enter the feast.

Jesus is warning us in this parable that the here-and-now is an important readying for his second coming, and we cannot afford to sleep it away!

Connecting the Gospel …

… to the First Reading: The First Reading reveals that wisdom is a virtue given to all those who seek her, Even before our desire and our watching for wisdom, she comes to us.

In the Gospel, the Bridegroom’s coming is assured even before we desire or watch for the Bridegroom.
… to experience: We rarely, if ever, view our daily Christian living in light of the final coming of Christ. But his final coming is, in fact, the promise that gives ultimate meaning to our daily behavior and our ongoing hope.

Securing Patronage

Mediterranean Weddings
How does God behave toward us? “The reign of God” is like a first-century Mediterranean wedding (see comments on the Fourth Sunday of Advent). In this period of Israel’s history, families practiced what is known as patrilocal marriage. The bride moved to the groom’s home which would have been located in or close to the home of his father.

Anyone who has visited Peter’s house in Capernaum or seen reconstructions of the house plan recalls that a cluster of homes formed a complex in which Jonah and his wife and children, single and married, all lived. This included Peter, his wife and children (and mother-in-law), and his brother Andrew. 

The ideal marriage partner in this culture is a first cousin, specifically, a father’s brother’s daughter (or son as the case may require). If Peter married his first cousin, then his mother-in-law was also his aunt. Middle Eastern families of antiquity and the present are close-knit units, and these wedding practices explain why.

The marriage was arranged by the fathers under the powerful influence of the mothers; it was ratified with a contract negotiated between the mothers but signed ultimately by the patriarch. The purpose of such a marriage was to join two families.

When the partners were old enough, the long marriage ceremony was celebrated. The highpoint of the ceremony occurred when the groom, accompanied by his relatives, went to the family house of the bride to transfer her to his home. It is here that the rest of the wedding ceremony and celebration took place.

The Ten Teenagers
This is the point at which Jesus begins his parable. The groom has gone to fetch his bride. Ten young teenagers, very likely the groom’s sisters and cousins, are awaiting his return. (“Bridesmaids” is not a good translation.) Five are clever and five are dull-witted.

The role of the teenagers in the ceremony is to greet the groom and the entire wedding party when it returns and to participate in the celebration as everyone waits for the consummation of the marriage and the display of the blood-stained bed sheet to demonstrate that the bride possessed physical integrity as required by Deuteronomy 22:13-21.

The clever teenagers were prepared for their roles, but the dull-witted failed to make adequate plans and found themselves shut out of the feast. They didn’t even know how to put the bridegroom’s delay to advantage.

As with all parables, so too does this one have a double meaning: it is about a wedding party but also about something else, namely about how God relates to human beings.

Dependence on the Patron
The image of God behind all the gospel parables is based on the Mediterranean institution called patronage. Each of us has a human father, but God was perceived in the Middle East as a father in the sense of a patron, a “godfather.”

A patron or godfather treats certain people “as if” they were family members. Middle Eastern people consider themselves very fortunate when someone chooses to be their patron. They do their best not to lose that privileged position but rather to strengthen it with the passage of time. Thus, they must be very clever, ever sensitive to the patron’s whims, fancies, and wishes. Dull-witted clients risk losing their privileged position, just like the dull-witted teenagers in the parable. The moral: strive to be clever in your relationship with God.

After Jesus’ death and resurrection, Christians awaiting his imminent return added verse 13 to his parable: “So keep awake, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” It ill fits the parable. All ten young teens fell asleep (Mt 25:5)! But it is good advice if one is thinking about the return of Jesus or the end of the world. The parable provides both positive and negative models. Which will you follow?

The Gospel story is pretty simple. A wealthy man leaves his goods for each of three servants to care for while he is gone. He doesn’t give them instructions, at least none that we are told of. When he returns, he sees that two of the three servants have invested the money and got back twice the amount. He is delighted.

So at this point the moral of the story would be: “Make the most of what you have.”

But we miss the most interesting part of all if we look just at the successful servants (as does the shortened version of the Gospel in the lectionary!!!). We miss the fascinating and puzzling story of the third servant. This poor soul did not invest the money at all. He buried it. Quite simply, he was afraid of investing it and losing it.

He was right to be afraid, given the owner’s attitude. He listened to the fearful servant’s story and then had the man thrown into “the darkness outside,” where there would be “wailing and grinding of teeth.” Quite an overreaction, it seems. The poor guy just wanted to keep the owner’s money safe!

Maybe the proprietor was simply a “demanding person,” as the parable says. Dark spirited.

But there is much more to it. The monetary unit “talent” in Jesus’ time was not a small amount. Even one talent could be worth more than a laborer would earn in a lifetime. And the owner entrusted a lot more than just money to the servants—he left them all his possessions, everything he had. He took a great risk and he wanted them to do the same, not leave the investment moldering around somewhere.

Ok, now make the switch. Assume that the parable is about God. Maybe God entrusts an even greater amount to you and me! Life, abilities, the gift of love, the living breathing human beings around us, and every so often, real and open acts of unselfish love. God gives all this free of charge, gives to us our own lives with all their rewards and catastrophes, and he says to us, dive in. Have your life. Make whatever you will with it because you are my own beloved.

It is wonderful. But then an awful question arises. Does God curse those who are afraid and who bury what they are given? Jesus at least seems to say so.

To everyone who has, more will be given and he will grow rich; but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. (Gospel)

Ouch. That hurts.

Except that, in the realm of spirituality, there is one thing I know of that will go away if it is buried, but which gets greater if you use it.

Love.

If fear closes the door tightly against love, guess where the loveless one will be. In the darkness outside the door, wailing and gnashing those teeth. Without love.

Get this:

We are all frightened, and God always has compassion upon us. God waits for ages to see if we will not accept just a bit of the love he offers, and if we will even find just enough courage to invest some of it in other people. God is often disappointed in this risk he takes, and I’m sure he says, “oh no, not again” when we fail.

But this is the disappointment of someone who loves us very well.

Let love in.

Love casts out fear.

First Reading

Proverbs 31:10-13, 19-20, 30-31

1. “The woman who fears the Lord is to be praised, ... give her a reward for her labors.” Do you see a connection between the woman in this reading with the wise servant portrayed in the Gospel? How do awe and wonder in the presence of God (“fear of the Lord”) help make a person wise?

2. Do you know some people like the woman in this reading? How are they “reaching out to the needy and extending their arms to the poor?” Are they feeding the hungry and caring for the sick? Are they working to end wars, fix racial justice and climate change? Are they doing something and not just talking?

Second Reading

1 Thessalonians 5:1-6

1. Apparently “the day of the Lord” can overtake you ”like a thief at night.” Are you always ready? Almost ready? Dozing a little?

2. Where would you put yourself on a continuum that has security with dying in peace at one end and constant dread at the other?

Gospel

Matthew 25:14-30

1. Were the gifts of Puccini, Michelangelo and Van Gogh given to them for themselves alone? Do you think your gifts were given to you for yourself, to keep hidden away where no one can see them?

2. Are you willing to take risks, or are you paralyzed by fear? If you were a leader in the Church, what kind of risks would you take to insure the growth of the faithful? Why does Pope Francis say we were given gifts?

We possess a great wealth that depends not on what we possess but on what we are: the life we have received, the good within us, the indelible beauty God has given us by making us in his image. … All these things make each of us precious in his eyes, each of us is priceless and unique in history! This is how God looks at us, how God feels towards us. …

This brings us to the center of the parable: the work of the servants, which is service. Service is our work too; it makes our talents bear fruit and it gives meaning to our lives. … But what kind of service are we speaking of? In the Gospel, good servants are those who take risks. They are not fearful and overcautious, they do not cling to what they possess, but put it to good use. … The reason we have gifts is so that we can be gifts for others. And here, brothers and sisters, we should ask ourselves the question: do I only follow my own needs, or am I able to look to the needs of others, to whoever is in need? Are my hands open, or are they closed? 

Pope Francis homily for 33 Ord A

Nov 15, 2020

“He said, ‘Master, you gave me five talents. See, I have made five more.’ 
His master said to him, ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant. 
Since you were faithful in small matters, 
I will give you great responsibilities’”
(Mt 25:20-21).

Conflicting Voices

We are drowning in a sea of voices.

Superficially, we see this in advertising. Everywhere around us, billboards, radio, television, newspapers, magazines, the internet, and the fashion industry, hold out the promise of something better for us—a new soap, a new lover, a new philosophy of life.

More deeply, however, we experience this sea of voices as a great tension. The different voices we hear pull us in many directions and, after a while, we’re no longer sure who we are, what we believe in, or what will bring us life. Different voices tell us different things and each voice seems to carry its own truth.

On the one hand, there’s a powerful voice beckoning us towards self- sacrifice, self-renunciation, altruism, heroism, telling us that happiness lies in giving life away, that selfishness will make us unhappy, and that we will only be ourselves when we are big-hearted, generous, and put the needs of others before our own. Deep down, we all know the truth of that, it’s Jesus’ voice telling us that there is no greater love, nor meaning, than to lay down one’s life for others. Francis of Assisi was right, we only receive by giving. And so we admire people who radiate that and we feed our souls and those of our children with stories of heroism, selflessness, and bigness-of-heart.

But that’s not the only voice we hear. We hear as well a powerful, persistent voice seemingly calling us in the opposite direction. Superficially, this is the voice calling us towards pleasure, comfort, and security, the voice that tells us to take care of ourselves, to drink in life’s pleasures to the full, to seize the day while it’s still ours to seize.

More deeply, this is the voice that challenges us not to be too timid or fearful to be a full human being. This voice invites us to participate in, contribute to, and enjoy the wonderful energy, color, wit, intelligence, and creativity that makes the world go round and makes life worth living. This is the voice beckoning us towards romance, creativity, art, sex, achievement, physical health, the voice telling us Jesus’ parable of the talents and holding before us a truth too often neglected in religious circles, namely, that God is also the author of eros, color, physical health, wit, and intelligence. Life, it insists, needs to be tasted, in God’s name.

So which is the real voice? Is one of these voices to be heeded and the other resisted?

This is a complex question and there’s more to it than meets the eye. Historically, the temptation, at least in religious circles, has been to over-simplistically identify the voice of Jesus with the voice that calls us toward self-sacrifice and asceticism: “Everything is about self-renunciation!” Indeed, it is. Jesus did say that, as did every great saint.

But Jesus and those others also said more and our failure to take heed of the rest of what they said has sometimes made for a spirituality that is a half-truth with some nasty consequences, namely, in the name of religion, we have sometimes become unhealthily fearful, timid, and guilt-ridden. Whenever this happens, the other voice, the one inviting us to enter more fully into life’s dance of energy, is not blotted out but driven underground and there, because we have neglected part of what God has called us to, instead of becoming martyrs, we become people with “martyr-complexes”, frustrated persons whose energies become negative and manipulative in the name of love and service. Moreover, in the name of this half-truth, we often end up having God fighting God, truth fighting truth, wisdom fighting energy, and spiritual health fighting physical health, because we’ve put self-renunciation in false opposition to the challenge to also enter into the wonderful God-given energy of this planet where beauty, romance, creativity, physical health, wit, wine-drinking, and good humor also extend part of God’s authentic invitation.

How to find a balance in all of this? If both voices invite us to truth and yet they seem in opposition to each other, where do we go with this?

There is no simple truth, here or anywhere else. Truth is painfully complex (as are we) and truth is always bigger than our capacity to absorb and integrate it. To be open to truth is to be perpetually stretched and perpetually in tension, at least this side of eternity. And that’s true in terms of the seeming opposition between these voices. At times they are in real opposition and we can’t have it both ways, but have to choose one to the detriment of the other. Truth has real boundaries and there’s a danger in letting it mean everything. But there’s an equal danger in letting it mean too little, of reducing a full truth to a half-truth—and nowhere, at least in the spiritual life, is this danger greater than in our tendency to let either of these voices completely blot out the other.

Getting Ready to Pray                     

In this northern half of the earth there are signs of endings. The harvests are completed and the outdoor fun-things are stored away for the winter. The trees have lost their clothes and seem to shiver in the divesting winds.

Some Thoughts 

We are beginning the end of the Liturgical Year, next Sunday is the Feast of Christ the King followed by the First Advent Sunday.

Those in the southern half of the earth are experiencing the beginnings, the re-dressings of trees and fields. Hope and trust do lead to fullness, but it takes time.

We are preparing for the rest of our lives each time we gather around the “Table of Plenty.” There is a death accomplished and remembered. There is resurrection and fruitfulness. There are always endings and beginnings. The Liturgy ends, but the fruitfulness of that Holy Sacrifice is contained in our living our “Amens.”

We prepare, not only to enter the community of believers, but to be sent with them to the plenty of God’s blessing this world through us. The week-“end” for us who gather is really the week-“up,” or “next.”

We are always beginning the never-ending love of God shared with us in the Eucharist.

What Is Entrusted Us

The Gospel parable is about a man entrusting his servants with his property, and the point it makes concerns the need for fidelity in caring for what belongs to the master.

God our master has left us with the earth, not to do with it what we want but to care for it even as we live off of its abundant riches.

God created the land to support living things: What will happen when God returns to find so much land strip-mined, strip-cleared, eroded, and burdened with toxic waste?

God created the waters to support living things: What will happen when God returns to find the oceans and rivers polluted with our garbage and chemical by-products?

God created the air to support living things: What will happen when God returns to find smog and holes in the ozone?

God created plants and animals to live on this wonderful earth and revel in its beauty: What will happen when God returns to find so many of them driven to extinction by our destructive practices?

“Father of all that is good, keep us faithful in serving you.” May we learn to care better for the Master’s goods so that when the Master returns, we will hear those blessed words: “Well done! Come and share your master’s joy.”

Men and women bear a unique responsibility under God to safeguard the created world and by their creative labor even to enhance it.

Safeguarding creation requires us to live responsibly within it, rather than manage creation as though we are outside it.

The human family is charged with preserving the beauty, diversity and integrity of nature as well as fostering its productivity.

-U.S. Bishops, Renewing the Earth, 1991:II, A

Focusing the Gospel

Key words and phrases: entrusted his possessions to them, five more, two more, buried your talent, throw … into the darkness

To the point: Every servant in this Gospel parable is given riches by the master with the expectation that each servant will increase what has been given. Even one talent was a significant amount of riches. To bury it was to waste its potential. The servant who does so out of fear, wickedness, laziness is condemned by the master upon his return and loses even what he has. The wealth each of us has been given by our Master is a share in his very Life. Even a small amount is an incalculable richness. We will be judged by how we have chosen to allow this Life to increase, to grow within us. To choose otherwise is to bury our very selves.

Connecting the Gospel …

… to the First Reading: Unlike the “wicked, lazy servant” in the Gospel, this faithful and loving wife works diligently to bring good to others and is judged praiseworthy for increasing the quality of life within and around her.

… to experience: When facing any kind of judgment, our first response is to be uncomfortable. Upon reflection, when our choices and behaviors have led to fuller Life for ourselves and others, we know we have nothing to fear from a judgment. Indeed, we can even look forward to it.

“Out of fear, I buried it.” (Mt 25:25)

Stewardship

The parable of the talents tells a tale of three servants who are entrusted with funds in varying quantities in proportion to their abilities—five, two, and one. The first servant invested everything to yield another five. The one with two talents doubled the sum. A third, given one talent, dug a hole and buried it. When the master returned, he rewarded those who doubled their resources, commending their trustworthiness: “Come, share your master's joy.”

If anyone thinks that amassing wealth is somehow a good in itself, that person is seriously mistaken. But the servant who buried the talent gave a different report of stewardship: “I know you are a hard man, so out of fear I went off and buried your talent in the ground. Here is your money back.”

For this he is called a worthless, lazy lout. “You should have banked it and got interest.” After the sum is given to the others, and just before the laggard is thrown out into the dark to grind his teeth, the master says, “Those who have will get more until they grow rich, while those who have not will lose even the little they have.”

It is no shock that the parable of the talents is often taken as a recommendation of usury and capitalism. Even the Jerome Biblical Commentary seems to suggest as much. In the 1980s, as if in response to the U.S. Catholic bishops’ pastoral on the economy, the Lay Commission on Catholic Social Teaching and the U.S. Economy wrote a “letter” of its own, which featured the parable.

This document noted that while the parable of the wise and foolish virgins shows that “good intentions are not enough,” and the last judgment story reminds us to care for the poor and needy, this parable of the talents describes the “terrible punishments which lie in store for those who do not produce new wealth from the talents God has placed in their stewardship.” The parable of talents, we are told, helps us understand the “moral élan” of the U.S. economy.

While the commission's letter is a thoughtful effort at integrating capitalism with the demands of the gospel, I think the parable of the talents has as little to do with capitalism as it does with slavery or absolute control over the destiny of the servants who appear as characters in the story.

The three parables in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew are about the end times, the end of the world, the end (intent, purpose, and upshot) of our lives. Whatever is given to us—money, talent, opportunity—is meant to bear fruit for the kingdom, for the glory of God and the salvation of souls.

As the parable immediately following the one about the talents makes clear, the entire judgment of history and of each individual is based upon our service to the least of our brothers and sisters.

In its most fundamental sense, the image of the talent represents the bounty of life itself, as well as the preeminent gift of faith. If we are among those fortunate enough to reach the maturity required for personal responsibility and to have the opportunity to use the talents of life and faith, it is incumbent upon us to invest our gifts, not hide them out of fear or laziness.

The parable is not about the stock market or entrepreneurship, commendable as those activities might be. It is about what we do with our gifts, financial or otherwise.

If anyone thinks that amassing wealth is somehow a good in itself (and I do not believe the writers of the Lay Commission's letter do), that person is seriously mistaken. Do not take it from me, but from the twelfth chapter of Luke: “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; for one's life does not consist in abundance of possessions.”

After Jesus issues this warning, he tells another story of a rich man whose land produced abundantly. What he did was to build larger storehouses for his goods, saying to himself, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry.” God calls such people fools, since they store up treasures for themselves but are not rich in the sight of God.

I do not think that one can find either a recommendation or a rejection of capitalism in the gospels, although it is quite clear that the amassing of money for oneself is considered not only foolish, but evil. There are more warnings in the gospels about the dangers of money than about any other earthly good, so a successful Catholic capitalist is well advised to be most vigilant in stewardship.

The goods of the world and the wealth derived from our labor must be used for God's glory and human assistance. What is more, if a Christian would defend the benefits of capitalism, it ought to be based on the argument that capitalism is most effective in the service of God and ministry to the poor, homeless, and hungry.

The trustworthiness of the profitable servants ensures their share in the “joy of the Lord.” This is not because money is made. It is, rather, because the wealth of life and talent given them had been invested to bear fruit in labors of faith, hope, and charity.

Whether we are millionaires or paupers, it is upon this criterion that we will be judged.

Good Fear, Bad Fear

Along with the Prodigal Son story, the parable of the Talents is one of those stories of Jesus that most people feel pretty sure they understand. “Get off your behind and practice your piano. Someday you'll be judged on how you used your talents,” says a mother to her plugged-in child, confident that she has the backing of the Lord himself on this one. And I am confident she’s right in that application. 

That dimension of the parable is so obvious that the Gospel word talanton (Greek for a huge monetary unit of silver coinage amounting to something like a lifetime's earnings) has entered our languages with the meaning “God-given ability.” (Besides our English word, I find le talent in French, das Talent in German, il talento in Italian, and el talento in Spanish.)

And yet the parable is about much more than using our native abilities. The parable, in Matthew’s context, is Jesus’ last major speech, and is addressed to Christian disciples. The charge of the master of the servants is nothing less than the whole mission of the Church—living and spreading the Gospel, making other communities of disciples. The wherewithal for conducting the mission is symbolized by these huge cash amounts—five lifetimes’ earnings, two lifetimes’ earnings, one lifetime's earnings (these are all huge amounts). The servants are mandated to “work with” those amounts until the master returns.

Two of the servants double what they have been given and are rewarded upon the master's return. The third does what seems, on the face of it, to be a pretty responsible thing. He keeps the talent safe by burying it securely in the ground and, at the time of accounting, returns it intact to his master. Knowing that the master expected more, the servant tries to justify his action by citing his fear of the master. (Apparently he did not fear the consequences of disobeying the master.) Maybe he figured it was better to risk that consequence than to risk losing the original deposit by “working with it” in ways that just might fail.

The story, then, is a wake-up call for Christians who think they are doing the Lord’s will when they simply preserve intact what they have been given rather than venturing it in ways that will enable the talents (the faith?) to grow. The fear of the third servant has led him to opt for security first.

How odd, then, on this thirty-third Sunday of the year, to hear the reading from Proverbs praise the industrious and generous woman precisely for her fear: “Charm is deceptive and beauty fleeting; / the woman who fears the Lord is to be praised” (Prov 31:30). Whereas servant number three gets thrown into the outer darkness thanks to his fear of the master, the woman who is celebrated in the last chapter of Proverbs gets praised for fearing the Lord.

Is there something wrong with this picture? 

Not really. In the Hebrew Scriptures, “fear of the Lord” is a positive, even essential quality to be in right relationship with the Lord. Indeed, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge” (Prov 1:7; see 15:33). In the context of Israel's Wisdom literature, fear of God is a profound awe of the Creator that frees one from the fear of anything or anyone else, and it energizes one to act justly and generously. The first and second servants were acting obediently according to that healthy fear, whereas the third servant was hobbled by a lesser, craven fear.

Pope John XXIII said something that has found its way into a contemporary icon by Lentz: “We are not on earth to guard a museum, but to cultivate a flourishing garden of life.” I suspect that such a sentiment was rooted in a fear of God nurtured in a long life of prayer and service. 

At a moment when many were preoccupied with keeping the deposit of faith secure. Pope John called for a new venture of renewal and dialogue in our life of Christian discipleship and mission.

Because you have proved trustworthy in managing a small amount,
come and share your master's joy. (Mt 25:23)

Commentary by John Chrysostom

In the parable of the talents the Master entrusted money to his servants and then set out on a journey. This was to help us understand how patient he is, though in my view this story also refers to the resurrection. Here it is a question not of a vineyard and vine dressers, but of all workers. The Master is addressing everyone, not only rulers, or the Jews.

“For to everyone who has more will be given, and he will have enough and to spare; but the one who has not will forfeit even the little he has.”

Those bringing him their profit acknowledge frankly what is their own, and what is their Master’s. One says: “Sir, you gave me five talents; another says; You gave me two,” recognizing that they had received from him the means of making a profit. They are extremely grateful, and attribute to him all their success.

What does the Master say then? “Well done, good and faithful servant” (for goodness shows itself in concern for one’s neighbor). “Because you have proved trustworthy in managing a small amount, I will give you charge of a greater sum: come and share your Master’s joy.”

But one servant has a different answer. He says: “I knew you were a hard man, reaping where you have not sown and gathering where you have not winnowed; and I was afraid, and hid your talent.” “Here it is—you have back what belongs to you.”

What does the Master say to that? “You wicked servant! You should have put my money in the bank,” that is, “You should have spoken out and given encouragement and advice.” “But no one will pay attention.” “That is not your concern. You should have deposited the money” he says, “and left me to reclaim it, which I should have done with interest,” meaning by interest the good works that are seen to follow the hearing of the word. “The easier part is all you were expected to do, leaving the harder part to me.”

Because the servant failed to do this, the Master said: “Take the talent away from him, and give it to the servant who has the ten talents. For to everyone who has more will be given, and he will have enough and to spare; but the one who has not will forfeit even the little he has.”

What is the meaning of this? That whoever has received for the good of others the ability to preach and teach, and does not use it, will lose that ability, whereas the zealous servant will be given greater ability, even as the other forfeits what he had.

Homily 78 on Saint Matthew’s Gospel: Bareille, t. 13, 93-94

 John Chrysostom (c. 347-407) was born at Antioch and studied under Diodore of Tarsus, the leader of the Antiochene school of theology. After a period of great austerity as a hermit, he returned to Antioch where he was ordained deacon in 381 and priest in 386. From 386 to 397 it was his duty to preach in the principal church of the city, and his best homilies, which earned him the title “Chrysostomos” or “the golden-mouthed,” were preached at this time. In 397 Chrysostom became patriarch of Constantinople, where his efforts to reform the court, clergy, and people led to his exile in 404 and finally to his death from the hardships imposed on him. Chrysostom stressed the divinity of Christ against the Asians and his full humanity against the Apollinarians, but he had no speculative bent. He was above all a pastor of souls, and was one of the most attractive personalities of the early Church.

As we approach the end of the Church year and Advent draws near, the mood of the liturgy changes perceptibly and becomes eschatological. This is in accord with tradition, for in ancient times Advent started earlier and laster longer. The Church of England now sensibly designates the last three Sundays of the church year “Sundays before Advent.”

Reading I: Proverbs 31:10-13, 19-20, 30-31

Proverbs’ picture of the virtuous woman is a beautiful one, though it is hard to see its connection with today’s other readings. Perhaps the last verse will help us: “Give her a share in the fruit of her hands,” a thought that is found also in the parable of the talents: the profitable servants are given a share in their earnings.

But to concentrate on this point detracts from the main thrust of both readings.

The First Reading is a picture of a gracious wife and mother who practices love for both God and neighbor in that state of life into which it has pleased God to call her.

 Responsorial Psalm: 128:1-2, 3, 4-5

The first part of this psalm (through verse 8) falls into the category of an individual lament. The soul expresses its thirst for communion with God in the temple, and its delight when communion is established.

We may link this with the search for the divine wisdom (First Reading) and with the virgins’ longing o meet the bridegroom (Gospel).

 Reading II: 1 Thessalonians 5:1-6

Paul is apparently replying to a question from his correspondents concerning “the times and the seasons,” that is, the precise date of the parousia, which Paul’s original preaching had led them to expect imminently. Paul rejects the inference. There is one thing they need to know: the end will come suddenly (cf. Mk 13:32 and Acts 1:6-7).

Despite these warnings of Scripture, however, curiosity over the date of the end has continued to exercise the minds of Christians ever since, and ignorant and unscholarly fanatics claiming to know the date of the parousia can always win a ready hearing.

But the Book of Revelation is about events in the first century, not the twentieth century or any other. The experience of history shows that announcements of the exact date of the end have invariably been proven wrong. As fundamentalists, such fanatics should take 1 Thes 5:1-6, Mk 13:32, and Acts 1:6-7 to heart!

Jesus’ parable of the thief in the night (Mk 13:35 par.; Lk 12:39f.) is one that the Thessalonians apparently knew already (1 Thes 5:2)—an interesting indication that Paul may have transmitted more Jesus tradition than the letters suggest. By citing this parable, Paul elevates the parousia hope from one of curious speculation to one of existential attitude. The Christian must always live on tiptoe, as if the parousia were coming at any moment.

But there is more to it than “as if.” In a manner typical of his teaching (cf. Rom 13:11-14), Paul insists that the End has in some sense already come. Christian believers are already children of the light and the day. The imperative is based on an indicative: Be what you are, children of the light and the day.

Here is the final answer to the fanaticism of parousiac excitement. It is not a matter for idle curiosity but one of living here and now in the power of the future that we have already begun to participate in through baptism.

 Gospel: Matthew 25:14-30

When I read the short form of this gospel, I rubbed my eyes in astonishment. Is the reading meant to stop at Mt 25:20? Surely it should at least include Mt 25:21. Otherwise, the caption refers to nothing in the text. Hopefully, the long form will be used lest the reading lose its whole point. [Webmaster note: the short form in the Second Typical Edition of the Lectionary ends with verse 21.]

As with the parable of the ten virgins, we may distinguish three stages in the history of the tradition:

1. At the Jesus level it was a story told from life. The owner of an estate had to go on a long journey, so he left his money to three servants in trust, lest it remain idle during his absence. Two of them put it to wise use, made capital gains, and were commended by the master on his return. But a third servant carefully hoarded it and, on the master’s return, gave him back the exact sum he had been entrusted with. Instead of commending the third servant for his caution, the master rebuked him and handed the money over to the most enterprising of the three servants.

When Jesus first told this story, he must have applied it to something quite concrete in his ministry. Perhaps he was condemning the Jewish religious authorities. They were like the third servant, so carefully bent on preserving in its purity the tradition with which they had been entrusted that they lost their openness for new things and refused to accept Jesus’ message.

2. In the early community, the parable was moralized by the addition of the maxim “For to all those who have, more be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.” In addition, the parable was allegorized. The master was equated with Christ, his departure with the ascension, and his delayed return with the delay of the parousia. The words “enter into the joy of your master” are inserted so that the reward becomes participation in the messianic banquet.

3. Matthew places the parable in his sequence of parables following the Synoptic apocalypse that culminates with the Son of Man coming to judge the church. The faithful servant now stands for those Christians who hear the teaching of Christ and follow it; the unprofitable servant represents those who do not keep the new law enunciated by Jesus for the church.

The Peasant View

This parable explaining how the rich get richer follows quite naturally upon the rewards of being a clever teenage participant in a wedding celebration (Mt 25:1-1). But note well that the parable does not begin with the usual: “The reign of God is like ... ” As we review the text, ask yourself if this indeed is how you would like God to behave toward human beings.

The Problems of Wealth

A very rich person about to set off on a journey entrusted very large sums of wealth to three slaves, each according to his personal ability. In no time at all, the first two slaves doubled their trust. The third slave buried his trust in the ground.

Now we understand that the first two slaves did not simply serve their rich master; they imitated him.
On the day of accounting, the master applauds and rewards the two clever slaves but punishes the third slave whom he calls “wicked and slothful” (Mt 25:26). He takes the third slave’s trust and gives it to the first slave.

This parable is a favorite with American capitalists (interested in profit) and fundamentalist guidance counselors (focusing on the unintended and textually unsupported meaning of the word talent). Jesus’ listeners, of course, were neither capitalists nor committed to self-improvement. They were peasants. Would these interpretations bring good news to a peasant?

In first-century Mediterranean culture people believed that all goods already exist and are already distributed. There is no more where this came from, and the only way to get more is to defraud another. Anyone who suddenly acquired something “more” was automatically judged to be a thief.

Wealthy people were especially under suspicion. How could they honorably increase their wealth? They commissioned slaves to handle their affairs. Everyone knew slaves were shameless, and dishonorable behavior was all one could expect from them.

A Greedy Master

The very rich man in this story sounds like an honorable person at the outset. It is only at the conclusion that we learn that he is dishonorable. As the third slave states, the very rich master is “a hard man,” reaping what he did not sow and gathering where he did not scatter seed (Mt 25:24). Putting a good face on his behavior, we modern Westerners would call him a clever, industrious, and enterprising entrepreneur.

Others, like our Middle Eastern ancestors in the faith, would call him arrogant, opportunistic, greedy, and rapacious. The master agrees with the slave’s description of him (!); (see Mt 25:26) and confirms it by saying the slave should at least have put his money in the bank at usury.

Now we understand that the first two slaves did not simply serve their rich master; they imitated him. Why not? If you can’t beat the system, join it. Any human being can be as greedy as the next, and joining forces with a ruthless and unconscionable but successful master gives one a leg up on others like that pitiful third slave.

Actually, the third slave did what the rabbis would later commend as the safest and therefore most honorable course of action for a freeman. But was it proper behavior for a slave?

Alternate Meanings

A peasant audience hearing Jesus’ parable and reflecting on their own life wouldn’t find this good news at all. The rich get richer, and we continue to be abused (see Mt 25:29). If God behaves no better than the rich master, who needs God?

The church historian Eusebius saw the problem in Matthew’s text quite clearly and reported a different version of this same parable familiar to him in the Gospel of the Nazoreans (now lost). In this version, the master throws the first slave into prison, scolds the second slave, but welcomes the honorable third slave with joy. Was this the version Jesus told?

Matthew’s version offers advice to his community around the year 80 CE about how to behave in the period after Jesus’ resurrection and ascension while they await his imminent second coming. They should not be lazy and worthless but rather should imitate the cleverness but not the greed of their masters. In other words, when it comes to the kingdom, the risk of cleverness is preferable to the numbing security of doing the proper and honorable thing, or “playing it safe.” Jesus’ own life manifested similar risky choices.

Believers who can suspend their view of this parable as presenting strategies for fund raising or developing personal abilities and adopt instead the peasant view will have much to think about.

Make Your Choice

This is the last Sunday of the Church year, which as you know is different from the calendar year. Next week we will begin the new year, starting with Advent, our waiting for the birth of Jesus into the world. On this last Sunday of the year, the Church appropriately celebrates the feast of Christ the King.

Here is the story of this king of ours.

First, God continually sought out his people throughout history, inviting them to a covenant relationship. But the “shepherds of Israel” let God’s sheep scatter over the face of the earth. They actually made meals of the sheep instead of feeding them.* So God said the words of the First Reading. “I myself will look after and tend my sheep. The injured I will bind up, the sick I will heal.

God’s care for his people is exquisite, and it is the foundation of all our belief. He shepherds us today in the same way.

The Responsorial Psalm, “The Lord is My Shepherd,” is used here simply as a reply to the First Reading. To paraphrase, “We see that God is shepherding us, as he promised. Goodness and kindness are given abundantly. God lets us walk beside restful waters, through green pastures.” We are filled with gratitude.

People of different generations sometimes remember and sometimes forget God’s love. The ones who forget it fill their lives with other gods, whichever seemed most attractive. Idols, these are called.

So, in the Second Reading, St. Paul tells us about Christ, who is God’s shepherding made flesh. Although death and sorrow and sin have been on the rampage, Christ brings the First Reading’s light and peace and wholeness.

Then the Gospel tells us in a parable who will receive this light and peace. Not everyone can be counted among God’s beloved sheep. Some people have been goats instead.

How do you know which you are? The standard is extremely clear. Have you cared for the hungry? Have you given water to the thirsty? What about welcoming the stranger, and giving clothes to those who have none and what about visiting people in prison? This is what God did in the First Reading. It is what Jesus did in his life on earth. It is the loving duty he has entrusted to us who are his body, his band of shepherds. If you have joined this group, then you are one of the sheep who have received Christ's love and who are very grateful.

But maybe you or I have never taken time to care for Christ’s least brother or sister. Maybe we are goats.

If we keep on that way, we should not be surprised when God says at the end of time, “you never did pass on to others the care I gave to you. You did not let me into their lives. If you had, your gratitude for my love would have led you to them! I care to shepherd you even now, but all I can do is affirm the choice you have made with your life. You have chosen to live without me, your God, and I must respect your choice.”

This is how a real King acts. He respects and honors his subjects’ needs and desires. We have to ask ourselves in freedom which side we are on right now.

Before it is too late.

*See Ezekiel 34: 1-10.

First Reading

Ezekiel 34:11-12, 15-17

1. “As a shepherd tends his flock when he finds himself among his scattered sheep, so will I tend my sheep.” If an evangelizing community gets involved in people’s daily lives, embracing their sufferings, will they, in a way, take on the “smell of the sheep”*? Will that make it easier for the sheep to hear the evangelizer’s voice?

*Evangelii Gaudium, 24

2. According to this reading, what kind of shepherd is the Lord God? If there is a message in this reading for people in Church leadership positions, what is it? What can you do to “bind up the injured and heal the sick”?

Second Reading

1 Corinthians 15:20-26, 28

1.  “For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” Name some signs of “death or serious illness” that you see in the world, or the environment? What can you do to restore life? How can you help Christ accomplish the task of destroying death?

2. Besides the wars in the Middle East and Ukraine, what are some of the many other forms of violence in the world today? How can you help Christ challenge them? Pray and fast with others? Advocate for laws?

Gospel

Matthew 25:31-46

1. This king is the almighty and glorious God who comes to heal, seek out and bind up. Why did he come into the world in solidarity with the poor, wear thorns for his crown and have a cross for his throne? Can you relate on a personal level to a to very rich, brilliant leader? How about to a poor and suffering one?

2. In this Gospel Jesus has a “double identity” He is the king-shepherd who also identifies himself with the lost sheep, the most needy of this brothers and sisters. What does he ask us to do? Is our final judgement based on our love?

And he thus indicates the criterion of the judgement: it will be made on the basis of concrete love given or denied to these persons, because he himself, the judge, is present in each one of them … The judgement will be on love, … we will be judged on works, on compassion that becomes nearness and kind help. Do I draw near to Jesus present in the persons of the sick, the poor, the suffering, the imprisoned, of those who hunger and thirst for justice? Do I draw near to Jesus present there? This is the question for today.

Angelus for Christ the King

Nov 22, 2020

For I was hungry and you gave me food,
I was thirsty and you gave me drink. 
(Mt 25:35ab)

Give Drink to the Thirsty

When we think of the essentials of the Christian faith we generally associate these with belief in a certain creed, acceptance of various dogmas, adherence to a certain moral code, especially as it pertains to private morality, involvement with a church community, and with having some personal relationship to Christ in our lives.

Now, while these things are essential and may never be denigrated, Jesus would add something else. For him, a criterion, in fact the criterion, for the practice of the Christian faith is the exercise of the corporal works of mercy. Have we fed the hungry? Given drink to the thirsty? Clothed the naked?

Jesus’ command to practice the corporal works of mercy is direct, uncompromising, and everywhere present in the entire New Testament. Taken as whole, every tenth line in the New Testament is a direct challenge to the Christian to reach out to the physically poor. In Luke’s gospel, it is every sixth line. In the Epistle of James, it is every fifth line. Involvement with the poor is not a negotiable item. This is mandated with the same weight as is any creed, dogma, and moral or spiritual teaching.

And this may never be spiritualized. The command to be involved with the physically poor means just that, the physically poor. It is rationalizing when we turn the corporal works of mercy into something less concrete, namely, when we define the physically poor in such a wide sense so as to include everyone—“To feed the hungry can also mean feeding those who are spiritually hungry.” “To give drink to the thirsty can also mean giving spiritual nourishment to those who, while affluent materially, are hungry for deeper things.” There is a sense in which this is true, but that is not what Jesus intended in Matthew 25 and not what the church has perennially intended in its social teachings. There is a spiritual sense to hunger, thirst, and poverty, but that is addressed elsewhere, both in the New Testament and in church teachings. Reaching out to the deeper, non-material, hungers and thirsts of humanity is what is mandated in the spiritual works of mercy. The words of Jesus in the gospels challenging us to reach out to the physically poor are not intended spiritually. The corporal works of mercy are about reaching out to the physically poor, pure and simple.

So how do we give drink to the thirsty?

Obviously, especially given what has just been said, there is an aspect to this that is brutally concrete. Water is even more important than food. Without water we die, are unable to wash ourselves and our clothing, and are unable to enjoy any quality of life whatever. To lack clean, drinkable water is to lack the first necessity of life. Hence, Jesus’ command to give drink to the thirsty is, first of all, about looking around ourselves and our world and trying to provide for every person on this earth clean, drinkable water.

This, given the present situation of the planet, is not easy to do. A long, and mostly morally sanctioned, history of privilege and inequality—wherein some of us have surplus while others lack for basic necessities—has made for a situation in which there is now a rationalized acceptance of the fact that millions of people lack the basic physical necessities for life, including clean drinkable water. Thus, to get water to the thirsty today requires more than just the positive efforts being made by those individuals and agencies which are directly trying to bring clean water into poor areas. What is required, as well, is a change of heart and ultimately a change of lifestyle, by each of us who do have clean water.

As the great social encyclicals of the church, from Leo XIII through John Paul II, re-iterate over and over, clean water will come to everyone on the planet when those of us who have surplus, of any kind, live fully moral lives, namely when we accept that is it not right to have surplus while other lack necessities:

– God intended the earth and everything in it for the sake of all human beings. ... Thus created goods should flow fairly to all. All other rights, whatever they may be, are subordinated to this principle. (Popularum Progressio 22 & Gaudium et Spes 69)

– No person or country may have surplus if others do not have the basic necessities. (Rerum Novarum 19; Quadragesima Anno 50-51; Mater et Magistra 119-121; Popularum Progressio 230)

Giving drink to the thirsty involves looking at those principles with more moral courage than we have up to now.

Humility Enthroned

The very concept of Christ the King might seem rather triumphalistic in an age of expanding democratization of society. But look carefully at this king as portrayed in today’s parable: he was hungry and thirsty and naked and ill and in prison.

Who are his loyal subjects? They are those who give food to the hungry and drink to the thirsty, who welcome strangers and clothe the naked, who comfort the ill and visit prisoners. What a king and what a kingdom!

The goal of this king is not to oppress his subjects with his power but rather to “break the power of evil”: in this kingdom the evils of economic, medical, and criminal injustice are confronted and overcome by subjects who not only respect the “King of creation” but also “glory in his justice and live in his love.”

The kingdom that we celebrate today is “a kingdom of truth and life, a kingdom of holiness and grace, a kingdom of justice, love, and peace.” Those who respect truth and life, who live in holiness and grace, and who work to bring justice, love and peace, will “inherit the kingdom prepared for them from the creation of the world.”

After we have obeyed the Lord, and in his Spirit nurtured on earth the values of human dignity, brotherhood and freedom, and indeed all the good fruits of our nature and enterprise, we will find them again, but freed of stain, burnished and transfigured, when Christ hands over to the father: “a kingdom eternal and universal, a kingdom of truth and life, of holiness and grace, of justice, love, and peace.”

On this earth that Kingdom is already present in mystery. When the Lord returns it will be brought into full flower.

Vatican II, Constitution on the Church
in the Modern World, 1965: 39

Honor and Hospitality

Identifying the Middle Eastern cultural elements of this familiar scene help place it in an unfamiliar focus.

Honor and Shame

First notice the explicit and very pointed context of honor and shame, the core values of Mediterranean culture. The Son of Man comes “in glory” (= honor) and sits on the “throne of his glory” (= honor). All his angels accompany him (= honor) and all the nations will witness the scene (= honor). The king (Mt 25:33, 40, same as the Son of Man) separates honorable people from dishonorable people as a shepherd separates sheep (= honor) from goats (= shame).

Sheep and Goats

The earliest animals to be domesticated were sheep and goats. They are very common in the Middle East, and the Hebrew language is particularly rich in vocabulary that distinguishes sheep according to sex and age. Our ancestors in the faith were impressed that sheep suffer in silence. They compared men to sheep and considered suffering in silence to be the sign of a real man (Isa 53:7; Acts 8:32-35; Mk 15:25-37). Sheep came to symbolize honor, virility, and strength.

Goats were considered lascivious animals. Unlike rams (male sheep), goats allow other males access to their females. A man whose wife was ravished by another man was (and in the Middle East still is) considered like a goat. Goats symbolize shame and shameful behavior.

The ram was associated with honorable Greek gods like Zeus, Apollo, and Poseidon, while the goat was associated with Greek gods known for shameful and unrestrained behavior like Pan, Bacchus, and Aphrodite. Goats also are associated with women (women keep goats and milk them) and the devil (see Mt 25:33, 41).

Ingroup and Outgroup

The separation of sheep and goats is a symbolic way of drawing even stronger lines between an ingroup (sheep) and an outgroup (goats). Matthew’s Jesus sent his disciples only to the “lost sheep of the house of Israel” (the ingroup) and were forbidden from going “among the Gentiles” or entering any “town of the Samaritans” (outgroups, see Mt 10:5).

An ingroup generally consists of one’s household and one’s extended family and friends. People from the same village are ingroup when they meet elsewhere, but in the village they may belong to one of the outgroups. The boundaries are fluid.

Outsiders looking at Israel saw a single ingroup and called them Judeans (in Greek, Ioudaioi, a term sometimes erroneously translated and interpreted as “Jews”). Israel, the single ingroup, tended to consider all the rest of the world as one large outgroup. There are references to “all [the other] nations” (Mt 25:32) or “the Gentiles” (Mt 10:5).

Hospitality

What is the basis for this final, definite determination of in-group (sheep) and outgroup (goats)? Hospitality! In the Middle East, hospitality is extended mainly by men and solely to complete strangers. (Kindness extended to relatives is not hospitality but steadfast love, a very frequent term in the Old Testament describing what God offers to Israel.)

The “sheep” extended hospitality to strangers (“Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry, etc.?” Mt 25:37-40); the “goats” neglected that opportunity (Mt 25:44-45; compare Mt 10:40).

Application

Ultimately, in the Middle Eastern view, it boils down to a matter of honor. Any Middle Easterner—Israelite, Christian, pagan—is expected to treat strangers hospitably. Whoever does so has treated Jesus hospitably and will enjoy companionship with God in the kingdom. How can a contemporary believer translate this into American culture where honor does not count for very much?

Focusing the Gospel

Key words and phrases:

• When the Son of Man comes
• Come, you who are blessed
• you did for me/you did not do for me
• eternal punishment
• eternal life

To the point: “Who am I?” This question Jesus put to his disciples long ago remains a question for all times and all disciples. To be faithful rocks upon which the church is built, we must know who Jesus is for us, listen to what he teaches us, and guard against anything prevailing against his church. Peter and Paul's faithful and fruitful discipleship rested on the rock of their knowing Jesus. Our own faithful and fruitful discipleship rests on this same rock.

Connecting the Gospel …

… to the First Reading: Ezekiel portrays a shepherd God who looks after and cares for the lost, the strayed, the injured, the sick. As God cares for us, so are we to care for others.
… to experience: We tend to identify as “least” those who are distant from our daily living, for example, victims of famine in a foreign land. But those in need are actually very near us; wherever there is human need, there is Christ and we are called to respond.
 

The Gospel Realm
Matthew’s great parable of the last judgment presents the glorified Son of Man, with an entourage of angels, rising before the nations of the world. The blessed and lost are separated by one norm: the care of others.

Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me. I was ill and you comforted me, in prison and you came to visit me.

This proclamation is formulated four times in the course of the parable. It is worth the four repetitions. For, like many gospel passages, we have heard the words so often that they seem ordinary, even though they are the most revolutionary claims about the human condition that have ever been made.

In all the ways that God has been revealed to high human consciousness, there has been one abiding theme: the dignity and value of the human person. The ancient Chinese may have been among the first to formulate it: never do to others what you would not have done to yourself. Archaic Babylonian law commanded that we show good will to others. The mighty Egyptians were told, “Terrorize not a human.” Buddha reached enlightenment only when he embarked on the life of compassion for others. And Jewish faith, parent of both Christianity and Islam, revealed the source of the truth: “Male and female God created them; in God’s own image were they created.”

For Christians, this revelation of God reached its apex in the Incarnation: the Word of God became human flesh to save us. Thus it is strategic that Matthew, immediately before the narrative of Jesus’ passion and death, presents the scene of the last judgment as a metaphor wherein the least human person is identified with the Lord of history.

Before our own times entire tribes of indigenous peoples disappeared in North and South America, sacrificed to idols of gold. Jews were banished or forcibly converted long before the abominable “final solution.” Holy “religious” wars were launched in the name of God. Children of every color and tribe have been traded or killed upon birth.

To such a bleak history, the Lord of history has spoken: “As often as you have done this to the least of my brothers and sisters, you have done it to me.”

Like all of holy scripture, the parable of the end times is a judgment on the world. In human mayhem, we dismember the body of Christ. “You have done it to me.” The starving, the unwanted old and unborn, the criminal, the enemy—“the least”—are him.

This judgment of God is a moral command as well. In the eyes of Christ’s followers, the bodies of the wounded and murdered are bodies of Christ. Thus, killing is sacrilege. All wars are unholy. Any “choice” to kill a human being is an ungodly act.

Scripture, in its greatest depth, does not merely present a moral challenge or a judgment on the world. Nor is it a program for political or social action, or a self-help book. It is, rather, a story of the mystery of salvation.

For at the end of history, Jesus Christ, the Word of God made human flesh, addresses also the one who sent him: “Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers and sisters, you do unto me.” These words that challenge us are the very words that save us.

What if, in our thinking, our praying, and our writing about scripture, we accepted it as if it were real? What if the Word of God is actually true on all levels of our lives—true for a world of nations, politics, or economies; true for our relations with each other; true for each of us in our hearts; true of God?

If you and I accept, with all our mind and will, the promise of God’s Word, perhaps then we shall fully understand the soaring words of Paul: “Christ must reign until God has put all enemies under his feet, and the last enemy to be destroyed is death.”

“Then they will answer and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty ... and not minister to your needs?’” 

(Matt 25:44)

The Real Messianic Secret 

Is Matthew's scenario of the Last Judgment a parable (“The Sheep and the Goats”)? Or is it a straightforward description of how it will be at the end? 

To be sure, it has parabolic elements: a verse and a half de­scribe the Son of Man sorting out all the nations as a shepherd sepa­rates sheep and goats (the nightly routine of shepherds keeping mixed herds; sheep like sleeping out in the open, whereas goats need shelter at night to keep warm). But the remainder comes across as direct de­scription, which makes the flock/herd simile all the more attention- catching.

The reader of Matthew's Gospel has, after 25 chapters, become well-schooled in metaphors for the sorting out of divine judgment. The comparisons have been rich and many—wheat versus chaff, the fruit­ful tree versus the sterile one, the builder on rock versus the builder on sand, wheat versus weeds, good fish versus bad fish, those with wed­ding garments versus those not, the provident servant versus the abu­sive one, the grooms-maids with enough oil versus those caught short, those who work with talents versus the lone one who refuses to ven­ture … and now those separated like sheep (the more valuable) from goats (the less valuable).

This simile of a shepherd separating flock and herd is more than an­other convenient image for sorting. In the context of divine judgment, the image evokes the very passage partially given as this Sunday's first reading, Ezekiel's oracle about the true shepherd (Ezek 34:11-31). In that vision, the prophet pictures God personally shepherding the (heretofore poorly shepherded) flock of Israel and also judging be­tween sheep and sheep. Tellingly, Ezekiel shows the Great Shepherd reprimanding those sheep who feed on the good pasture and then tramp down the rest of the grass; those who drink of clear water and proceed to foul the water with their feet. “Therefore, thus says the Lord God: Now will I judge between the fat and the lean sheep” (Ez 34:20).

With the evocation of that vivid prophetic tradition, we can expect some talk about concrete human behavior, and we are not disap­pointed. What follows is one of the most famous recognition scenes in all of world literature. The assembly of all the nations get three sur­prises. First, the king and judge of all turns out to be ... not some wielder of military or media might … but Jesus of Nazareth. The sec­ond surprise is that the sole criterion of judgment is how they have treated needy persons—those who are hungry, thirsty, estranged, naked, ill, or imprisoned. The final, shocking surprise is that the king has taken personally such treatment, be it aid or neglect.

Scholars debate about the identity of the assembled ethne (“nations”? “Gentiles”?) and “the least brothers.” A close tracking of Matthew's language convinces some that panta ta ethne means “all the Gentiles” (assuming that Israel, in harmony with some intertestamental Jewish traditions, receives a separate judgment). Then “the least ones,” like the “little ones” in Matthew 18, are taken to refer to the Christian dis­ciples. On this reading, the Gentiles are judged on their treatment of needy Christians (mainly Jewish at Matthew's time)—which would be an assurance to Christians. But it is also a warning that if the Gentiles are to be judged on that basis, all the more shall Christians be judged in that light.

Other scholars, noting that a parallel reference to final judgment at Matthew 16:27 describes the Son of Man repaying each according to his conduct, insist that the phrase panta ta ethne in this Gospel includes the whole of humankind. They also understand “the least of my brothers” extending beyond the Christian community to include all needy per­sons. Either way, the challenge to Christian disciples is total.

While “nations” cannot be strictly construed in the modern sense of nation-state, the language surely names groups, not individuals only. At a time when our own powerful republic consumes a disproportion­ate amount of the planet's resources, defaults on its UN dues, and chooses not to ratify a nuclear test ban treaty signed by the majority of nations—might it not be timely to attend to the corporate dimension of the Gospel's language?

Imagine, meditatively, this judgment scene according to statistics from World Almanac 1999 (counting just the living of course): 1.9 billion Christians, 1.1 billion Muslims, 747 million Hindus, 353 million Buddhists, 907 million atheists and nonreligious, 15 million Jews, and a great variety of others. As the scene unfolds, note the surprise of all as the simple criteria of judgment are revealed. Do you find yourself surprised as well?

Commentary by Hippolytus
As the holy Gospel clearly proclaims, the Son of Man will gather together all nations.

He will separate people one from another, as a shepherd separates sheep from goats. The sheep he will place at his right hand, the goats at his left. Then he will say to those at his right: Come, my Father’s blessed ones, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.

Come, you lovers of poor people and strangers. Come, you who fostered my love, for I am love. Come, you who shared peace, for I am peace.

“Come, my Father’s blessed ones, inherit the kingdom prepared for you” who did not make an idol of wealth, who gave alms to the poor, help to orphans and widows, drink to the thirsty, and food to the hungry.

Come, you who welcomed strangers, clothed the naked, visited the sick, comforted prisoners, and assisted the blind.

Come, you who kept the seal of faith unbroken, who were swift to assemble in the churches, who listened to my Scriptures, longed for my words, observed my law day and night, and like good soldiers shared in my suffering because you wanted to please me, your heavenly King.

“Come, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”

Look, my kingdom is ready, paradise stands open, my immortality is displayed in all its beauty. Come now, all of you, “inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”

Then, astounded at so great a wonder—at being addressed as friends by him whom the angelic hosts are unable clearly to behold—the righteous will reply, exclaiming: “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you? Master, when did we see you thirsty and give you a drink? When did we see you,” whom we hold in awe, “naked and clothe you? When did we see you,” the Immortal One, “a stranger and welcome you? When did we see you,” lover of our race, “sick or in prison and come to visit you?”

You are the Eternal, without beginning like the Father, and co-eternal with the Spirit. You are the One who created all things from nothing; you are the King of angels; you make the depths tremble; you are “clothed in light as in a robe”; you are our maker who fashioned us from the earth; you are the creator of the world invisible. The whole earth flies from your presence. How could we possibly have received your lordship, your royal majesty, as our guest?

Then will the King of Kings say to them in reply: “Inasmuch as you did this to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you did it to me.” Inasmuch as you received, clothed, fed, and gave a drink to those members of mine about whom I have just spoken to you, that is, to the poor, you did it to me.

So come, enter “the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world”; enjoy for ever the gift of my heavenly Father, and of the most holy and life-giving Spirit. What tongue can describe those blessings? “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard nor human heart conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.” 

The Consummation of the World and the
Anti-Christ 41-43: PG 10, 944-945

 Hippolytus (c. 170-236) was a Roman priest who probably came originally from the East. When Pope Callistus relaxed the penitential discipline of the Church, Hippolytus became the first anti-pope. The schism continued into the reign of Pontianus, but when Potianus and Hippolytus were both exiled to the mines of Sardinia they were reconciled before dying as martyrs for the faith.

The liturgy now sets Christ’s kingship in an eschatological context, as does the Bible. His enthronement at the Ascension is the opening act of his final eschatological reign, and his continued heavenly rule between the Ascension and his return marks the progressive defeat of the powers of evil. For he must reign until he has “put all his enemies under his feet”.

 
Reading I: Ezekiel 34:11-12, 15-17

There is a close connection between the images of king and shepherd, a connection presumably going back to the figure of David.

Ezekiel prophesied during the Babylonian exile. In the earlier part of chapter 34, he delivers a strong indictment against the pre-exilic kings of Judah who had been false shepherds. Because of this, YHWH himself will henceforth take over the shepherding of this people (Ez 34:15). YHWH will seek out the lost and bring back the strayed (Ez 34:12, 16), an allusion to Israel’s return from exile and resettlement in the Holy Land (see Ez 34:13, omitted here).

The verses suggest that Ezekiel envisaged a theocracy, for the monarchy was not to be restored. Later on in verses Ez 34:23-24, however, YHWH says that YHWH will set over them David, who will be a shepherd and prince among them. The apparent contradiction is resolved if the Davidic king is the agent and representative of YHWH, a concept that carries over into the messianic hope.

The same prima facie contradiction occurs in the gospels. In the Synoptic parable of the lost sheep, which is undoubtedly authentic to Jesus himself, it is Yhwh who seeks out the lost sheep, though he does so implicitly through Jesus. But in the Johannine allegory of the Good Shepherd, Christ is the Good Shepherd, not alongside of nor in addition to YHWH, but as the representative of the Father. It is in Jesus Christ, therefore, that the prophecy of Ezekiel comes finally to rest.

The last verse introduces the note of judgment. The shepherd will distinguish between sheep and goats. This links the First Reading with the Gospel (see the caption).

 
Responsorial Psalm: 23:1-2, 2-3, 5-6

A slightly different arrangement of verses from this psalm was used on the fourth Sunday of Lent this year. Here the psalm is much more suitable, for it forms an obvious response to the passage from Ezekiel.

 
Reading II: 1 Corinthians 15:20-26, 28

Many important problems are raised in this passage from Corinthians, such as the concept of Christ as the first fruits, the Adam/Christ typology, the importance of “order” in the resurrection process, and its relation to the Corinthians’ gnostic view that Christians were already raised. But today’s theme, the kingship of Christ, as well as the caption, suggests that we should concentrate on 1Cor 15:24: “Then comes the end, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and power.”

One fact calls for comment, and two problems for discussion. The fact in question is that, according to Paul, Christ’s reign is to be of limited duration. He reigns “until ...” It is destined to be replaced by the kingship of God’s very self when Christ delivers the kingdom to the Father.

The first of the problems is the period covered by Christ’s reign. I Cor 15:25 is one of the passages to which “chiliasm” or “millenarianism” appeals. Its chief basis is Rev 20. The book of Revelation speaks of a first and a second resurrection. At the first resurrection, only the faithful Christians will arise to reign a thousand years with Christ (the millennium). This is to be followed by a second, or general, resurrection. 1 Cor 15:26 is then interpreted by means of Rev 20. This interpretation is untenable for two reasons: first, it takes the events of the book of Revelation to be successive rather than as varying descriptions of the same event; second, it allegorically harmonizes Revelation and 1 Corinthians.

It seems quite clear from 1 Corinthians that the reign of Christ is inaugurated with the resurrection-ascension (1 Cor 15:20, 27) and is destined to last until the Second Coming (1 Cor 15:23-24a). The kingdom of Christ is thus coterminous with the period of the church. “In chronological respect (not in spatial) the kingly rule of Christ and the Church completely coincide” (O. Cullmann). It is important to note that Christ’s kingdom is a period of perpetual warfare with the “enemies” that will still be under his feet (1 Cor 15:25). “The present kingdom of Christ is not a period of peace, but of glorious warfare” (HL Goudge).

The second problem is the idea of Christ’s delivery of the kingdom to the Father and his subjection to the Father. What can this mean? It means that during the period of Christ’s kingdom, the period of the church, God acts toward the world not directly but through Christ. That is to say, every act that God does toward the world or the church is an extension of the act that accomplished once and for all the history of Jesus of Nazareth.

But after the redemptive work of Christ has been completed at the consummation, God’s relationship with the redeemed universe will become a direct one.

Now we see God and experience His action through the God-man who represents Him to us; then Christ will have brought us to the Father; we shall enjoy the Beatific Vision, and immediate union with God himself. ... God will be all in all, not only in Christians but in the whole realm that Christ restored to him. *
 
Gospel: Matthew 25:31-46

This pericope is often called the “parable” of the sheep and goats or of the Last Judgment. But such a designation is inaccurate. Except for the comparison in Mt 25:32-33, the whole story remains on the level of direct description. Its literary genre is that of an apocalyptic revelation. But there is a history behind the tradition. The pericope is a combination of four elements:

1. Mt 25:32-33, the simile of the sheep and goats.

2. A series of sayings about the reception accorded to Jesus’ disciples (Mt 25:35-39, 40b, 41-45).

3. The combination of 1 and 2 to provide an allegorical interpretation of the simile.

4. Introduction (Mt 25:31) and conclusion (Mt 25:46) and the placement of the whole in its Matthean setting.

We will discuss each of these elements in turn.

1. The simile of the sheep and goats. Following Robinson, we reconstruct this as follows:

It is with the kingdom of God as with a shepherd who separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

There is no reason why this should not be an authentic parable of Jesus. There is nothing allegorical about it. The kingdom is compared, not to a shepherd nor to the sheep and goats, but to the act of separation.

The story is similar to the parables of the wheat and weeds (Mt 13:24-30) and of the good and bad fish (Mt 13:47-50), both undoubtedly authentic parables of Jesus. The message is characteristic of Jesus’ eschatology: acceptance or rejection at the end. It is a story taken from Palestinian life.

During the daytime the sheep and goats are all mixed up. At night the shepherd separates them because the goats need shelter from the cold, whereas the sheep are hardy enough to stay out all night (J. Jeremias). Since sheep are white and goats black, their separation can imply an act of judgment, enabling the parable to be applied to the kingdom of God in a way characteristic of Jesus.

Acceptance or rejection of this message will determine which side one will be on at the Last Judgment—among the saved or the condemned. The final separation is being anticipated in Jesus’ ministry.

2. The sayings.

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.

When was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink?

When was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you or naked and gave you clothing?

When was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?

Truly, I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these ... you did it to me.
Like other critics, TW Manson commented on the whole pericope that “it contains features of such startling originality that it is difficult to credit them to anyone but the Master himself.”

But, as Robinson has rightly observed, when critics talk like that, they are really speaking of these sayings, not the whole pericope. It is these that have the ring of the “Master himself.” But what do they mean?

They are commonly used by church preachers and by secular humanitarians as a piece of ethical teaching, inculcating concern for the victims of famine and oppression. God forbid that we should deny the necessity of such concern.

But we must question whether this is the true exegesis of this passage, and whether therefore it should be so used homiletically. It is closely akin to Mk 9:37 par.; Mk 9:41; and Lk 12:8f. par. (Q); cf. Mk 8:38 par.

Comparison with these sayings shows that the passage under examination, far from being a humanitarian lesson, is an assertion of the “shaliach” principle, according to which the acceptance or rejection of an accredited agent involves the acceptance or rejection of the sender, and the further assertion that acceptance or rejection of the accredited agent, like acceptance or rejection of the sender, will be validated at the Last Judgment.

The life situation in which this passage would have been spoken by Jesus would therefore have been when he was sending his disciples out on a mission.

3. That this was how Matthew himself understood these sayings is indicated by his addition of “who are members of my family” (RSV: “my brethen”) to the words “one of the least of these” (Mt 25:40, not in 25:45).

“Brethren” in Matthew always means disciples. Hunger, thirst, etc., symbolize the weakness and poverty of the disciples, and the relief given to them symbolizes the acceptance or rejection of them and their message, exactly as in the saying about the cup of cold water in Mk 9:41.

This interpretation will disappoint, perhaps even anger many, but we are responsible for a genuine exegesis of the text, not to make it say what we want to hear.

In the post-Easter church, the shepherd is equated with a king (Mt 25:40), that is, God. Thus, the parable became an allegory of the Last Judgment.

4. Finally, the evangelist takes up the allegorically interpreted parable and inserts the apocalyptic coloring, especially in Mt 25:31 and 25:41. As a result, the king of Mt 25:40 became identified, somewhat unusually and awkwardly, with the Son of Man of Mt 25:31. Matthew probably also inserted “all the nations” in Mt 25:32, equating the judged with the nations to which the disciples will be sent to preach the gospel in all the world (Mt 28:16-20).