Sorting Sheep and Goats

Solemnity of Christ the King/A

Matthew 25: 31-46

It all comes down to this. This is one of my favorite Gospel readings, and even though I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, this is the Gospel reading that I would choose for my funeral---because this is what it all comes down to.

There are two stories that have been all over the news in the last month. The first concerns the death of Steve Jobs, the inventor of tech devices that we think we can't live without. Much was made of his life, the true story of a brilliant but often mean guy, all that---but there was a little story at the end of October that got buried in the back pages. It was the story of the moment of his actual death. His sister gave the eulogy at his funeral and allowed it to be published. The interesting part has to do with what she reported as her brother's last words. As he slipped into death, he appeared to be looking past his family and said, with great wonder, "Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow." Whatever he saw took away the fear that most of us might have at that moment. I don't know what he experienced, but reading about that made me wonder what it is that would make me say the same thing when I am called home.

The other story is about the preacher who continues to incorrectly predict the "Rapture"—and either he is wrong, or it appears that we've all been left behind. I would also like to point out that the guy who predicted this is still here as well. Just sayin’ I think it's because the folks doing the predicting appear to be obsessed with the mechanics of how & when the Last Judgment will occur and are not paying attention to the business of actually preparing themselves for it.

So we arrive at the end of the Church year, and the Gospel gives us a vision of the Last Judgment. I wonder if this preacher has actually read this? The story of Jesus separating the sheep and goats only appears in Matthew's Gospel, but it's critical to our understanding of His message--the core of His moral code is here. Jesus lays out the standards by which all will be judged. He doesn't say anything about faith or belief---I think that it is assumed that the hearers are believers---so now that we believe, this is how we are to behave. Faith is what transforms us --- it moves us from belief to action. Jesus talks about how we are supposed to behave towards each other but never utters the word ‘rapture.'

The placement of this story in Matthew's Gospel happens just prior to the beginning of the Passion narratives and is essentially Jesus' last sermon, His final discourse----not His last words as he is dying, but one of His last teachings before his death. And it’s all about how we are to treat each other—we are to behave as though he or she is Jesus. That's a nice thought---until you actually have to do it. This is not easy, and most especially not easy for us in this country. Everything that Jesus challenges us with is so often in conflict with the culture that we live in. We live in one of the wealthiest countries in the world. What are we to think when we are always first, when we aren’t the last or the least? It’s like an unwritten rule that we are always supposed to be first, the biggest, the best. Not the least. The ‘least’ isn’t in our vocabulary or in our imagination, and so this teaching seems foreign to us. Perhaps He meant someone else? Certainly not us! When Jesus says that the last shall be first and the first will be last, and that whatever you do for the least you do for Me…….it changes the rules and it messes with our cultural myth. One of the most difficult things for us to understand is that we are, at our core, Catholic and Christian first---before we are anything else. For us, the Kingdom that Jesus proclaims is first. If we don’t understand this, the centrality of the Kingdom of God in the NT, then we will never begin to understand the ministry of Jesus. In the Kingdom of God, everything is upside down, everything is the opposite of what our culture calls us to.

We’ve all heard this story many, many times, so it can easily go over our heads if we aren’t careful. There are a number of things that are interesting about this story---and one of them is the only thing that the sheep and the goats have in common. They are both shocked when they find out that each person described as ‘least of these’ is really Jesus. Those in the sheep pile are shocked to find out that the ones they fed and sheltered were Jesus in disguise—“oh, that was YOU?” Those in the goat pile are shocked to find out that those they didn’t take of were Jesus in disguise—“Oh, that was YOU?” There is one major difference---the motivation to help. For the people in the sheep pile, it didn’t matter that it was Jesus---they were just doing what they knew was right. For the people in the goat pile, it’s more like “Oh, was that YOU? We would have done something if we had known it was YOU……..” Awkward. The young people that I work with would describe this in two words. Epic FAIL.

Matthew 25 isn't optional. It's a clear code of conduct for those who desire to live in the Kingdom of God. One of my Catholic school childhood memories was memorizing what were called the 'corporal works of mercy'--this is the text where those came from. We know them. Why is it so easy to ignore them? I think that one of the reasons is that we tend to dehumanize ‘the least.’ It’s easier to ignore ‘the least’ if we refer to them as parasites, scammers, lazy, illegals and all of the other pejorative and racist terms we come up with. If we have to think of them as human, as people in need, we can’t ignore them. Jesus says “Blessed are the poor.” “The last shall be first and the first shall be last.” He is “the least of these.” Why are the poor ‘blessed?” I think that it’s because they know something about God that we do not. In many ways, they are closer to God than anyone else, because they know, more than anyone else, how much they rely on God. They have nothing, and so nothing gets in the way. They have read Mt. 25 and they know that it’s about them. Those of us who don’t see Him in them are the ones who don’t get it. I love this quote from John Paul II “ Love for others, and in the first place, love for the poor, in whom the Church sees Christ himself, is made concrete in the promotion of justice. Justice will never be fully attained unless people see in the poor person, who is asking for help in order to survive, not just an annoyance or a burden, but an opportunity for showing kindness, and a chance for greater enrichment. Only such an awareness can give the courage needed to face the risk and the change involved in every authentic attempt to come to the aid of another.”

Approx. a year ago, I was watching TV, and the program host, who is Catholic, said this: ‎"If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we've got to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we've got to acknowledge that He commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition--and then admit that we just don't want to do it." Which Jesus do we follow? The One who clearly states that those we call ‘parasite’ are “the least of these” and therefore Jesus Himself, or no? Each of us, in our own hearts, knows the answer to this question.

At the end of my day, I try to think over all the things that happened during the course of the last 12 hours or so. I try to think of what I did, what I didn't do, and the people I encountered. Did I recognize and serve Jesus in the ‘least of these’ or no? If I died tonight, which pile would I get sorted into—sheep or goats? And really----there's only one thing that I want at the end of my life--to wake up at the foot of the Throne of Grace with Jesus looking down at me. I know that He will know what I'm thinking, which will be this........"please, please, please let me go with the sheep." I pray that my life will meet with His approval---because the only thing that I want to hear from Jesus at that point will be two words. Just two words.

"You! Sheep!"

Oh wow.

December 2, 2010

“The Peace Corps left today and my heart sank low. The danger is extreme and they were right to leave…

Now I must assess my own position, because I am not up for suicide. Several times I have decided to leave El Salvador. I almost could, except for the children, the poor, bruised victims of this insanity. Who would care for them? Whose heart could be so staunch as to favor the reasonable thing in a sea of their tears and loneliness? Not mine, dear friend, not mine." (Jean Donovan)

I read this again today, the 30th anniversary of Jean's martyrdom, along with Ita Ford, Dorothy Kazel, and Maura Clarke. My own trip to El Salvador with Catholic Relief Services in 2007 came back in a flash. I remembered sitting in a community center in Aguilares, listening to folks tell their horrific stories of torture, violence and imprisonment. As we listened, I became aware of a police van driving up and down the street, slowing down as it passed the doorway. It occurred to me that there could be a drive by shooting any moment and we could all die. I was terrified and calm at the same time.

We continued to listen to the stories----and it meant so much to the tellers that we, Americans, were there to listen. And we believed them!

That police van kept driving by...as we listened to stories of people being 'disappeared' and worse. I remembered the women who were murdered on Dec. 2, 1980. I remembered the words that Jean Donovan wrote in the weeks before her murder and it was as though I could feel her presence in the room telling me that, no matter what happened, things would be ok. I understood in that moment why she couldn't leave---because I knew in that moment that if I had been her, I couldn't have left, either.

We left Aguilares later that day, but I will never forget the people we met, their stories, and their courage.

Today I remember Jean Donovan and her companions, martyred in El Salvador thirty years ago. I pray to have even a small amount of her courage and faith.

Thanksgiving

There's something about mid-life that makes me more grateful than ever for my life, my family, my friends. The younger version of me took so much for granted--the later mid-life version of me knows that nothing should ever be taken for granted. There's something about travel, in particular travel to places where people struggle with poverty, with war, with fear, that makes me ever more aware of what I have and what I don't have.

One of the things that the folks I have encountered in places that can only be described as sad or desperate have is a sense of dependence on God. Their celebrations of faith and of the Liturgy are more vibrant than anything I have ever experienced anywhere else. They know something about God that I don't. How is it that they are more sure of their faith than I am, than we are? I might think that they have less to be thankful for than I do--or anyone else in America, for that matter. But the reality is that when it comes to spiritual matters----they know something about God that I don't know.

So, on this Thanksgiving, I am grateful for all the gifts in my life----and not the stuff. I am grateful for this past year, and most especially for an amazing 9 day retreat in the Holy Land. The retreat continues to unfold and bring gifts that I didn't expect.

I am so grateful.

Standing by the side of the road.....

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Cycle C
September 26, 2010




Last year, I had a friend visiting from out of town -- we were out sightseeing when we drove by a very pregnant woman, with 2 or 3 small children, holding a sign that said “Homeless, anything helps.” I couldn’t stop because the light was green, so I told my friend that we had to go around the block because I couldn’t just drive by and without giving her some money---my friend was already digging in her purse, so apparently she couldn’t drive by either. As we came around to the woman, the light turned red. My friend told me that she had to get out to talk to the woman and pray with her---so she jumped out of the car and went over to her. I prayed that the light would stay red for a long, long time…..thankfully, it did, and soon enough my friend jumped back in the car and we were off again. It turned out that the woman with kids was on the run from an abusive husband and was trying to figure out what to do next. I never saw her again, but still think about her and pray for her.

One Sunday afternoon, several years ago, I was teaching a Confirmation group session on the principles of Catholic Social Teaching---we were working on the one called the “preferential option for the poor.’ In talking about who is poor in our community, the subject of ‘those people with cardboard signs who stand by the side of the road’ came up. I shared with the group that when I feel that it’s safe to do so---in terms of traffic safety, and my personal safety---I try and give that person some money, if I have it. One of the participants, who thought that this was absolutely the dumbest thing he had ever heard, immediately commented that ‘those people’ were all scammers and should be ignored. I asked them to stop and imagine that their lives had just been turned upside down---that everyone who was employed at their home had just lost their job and they were about to be evicted, with no one to turn to. What would they do and where would they go? One thing became obvious----they had a lot of incorrect assumptions about social services. I kept asking “what would you do?” One suggested that they could win the lotto. I skipped telling them the probability stats and went right to ‘remember, you have to BUY lotto tickets, and you don’t have any money.” When they couldn’t come up with any realistic solutions to their brand new poverty dilemma----the participant who had made the ‘scammer’ comment looked at me, raised his hand, and very quietly and seriously said “I would make a sign and stand by the side of the road.” No one in the room said a word.

Here’s the way that my thinking goes on this issue: if the person with the sign is a scammer, it’s on his or her conscience---if they are in need and I don’t help, it’s on mine. I don’t want that on my conscience.

In the interest of full disclosure, another time, I was driving, and saw a guy with a sign. I drove closer and saw that the sign said “Need a hug.” I’m sure he did. But he looked a little sketchy, so, in the interest of personal safety, I smiled and waved and kept on driving.

I just know that when, God willing, I get to heaven, that pregnant woman with the small children will greet me at the gate, and I will hear the voice of Jesus say, “Hey, it’s ME! Pretty good disguise, no? And that guy with the “need a hug” sign? That was me, too. “

Everything that we have is a gift from God, and being a good steward requires us to use and share wisely. We all know this story, and we know that it doesn’t end well for the rich man---but not because he was rich. It doesn’t end well, because he was oblivious to the poor man who was right by his door. In the Confiteor, we pray: "I have sinned in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do." There’s the sin. It’s the “what I have failed to do” part. The rich man didn’t attack or abuse Lazarus----he didn’t do anything at all to Lazarus. He did nothing. He had the money, the power, the ability to help someone who desperately needed it. He did nothing. It’s called a sin of ‘omission.’

My German grandmother taught me a word when I was little----"schadenfreude." It doesn’t translate into English, but it basically means taking pleasure in someone else’s pain. I must admit to a bit of "schadenfreude" when I read the part where the rich man, who was clearly used to giving the orders, had already arrived in hell, where he finally bothered to notice Lazarus, and continued to give orders. “Father, send Lazarus to give me water, to tell my brothers to shape up so they won’t end up like me, blah, blah, blah.” Are you kidding me? He never noticed Lazarus in life, and now that their lives had done a complete flip-flop, he wanted to treat him like a slave? Not that I’ve ever been to hell, but I’m reasonably sure that it doesn’t operate that way. The people in hell don’t get to call the shots, and they don’t get to have the people they wronged in this life as a personal assistant in the next. This is a very troubling parable, with drastic consequences---if you willfully ignore the poor, it seems that you end up in hell.

The Gospel reading last week encouraged us to be good stewards of our possessions and money, and cautioned us against making money into a god. Today’s Gospel goes further and tells us that we must, as good stewards, share what we have with those who are poor. But first we have to be aware that there are people in need.

Lazarus walks among us every day—do we see him? For the last month, he has been across the street staying at St Margaret’s Church with Congregations for the Homeless---and for 10 days, over 100 volunteers from this faith community fed and cared for him. He lives at St Martin de Porres Shelter. He stands by the side of the road with a sign that says “Homeless Vet. Anything helps.” He needs something to eat, and he needs a hug.

Today’s Gospel invites us to remember that we really are called to take care of each other---and it starts by noticing that there is someone there, someone in need, someone who is Lazarus walking among us, someone who is Jesus in disguise.

The Pilgrims Who Traveled...

This is a photo of all of us (well, almost all of us), taken in the chapel at Bethlehem University. The art in the Church remembers martyrs----specifically children who were martyred, beginning with the Holy Innocents, pictured on the walls behind us surrounding the main altar. The photo also includes the two students from Bethlehem U (second and third from the left, in the second row--clearly younger than the rest of us!) who met with us earlier in the day.

The women who made this retreat journey come from all over the United States, from different religious traditions----yet we all were seeking to somehow encounter and touch the holy. On the first day of our retreat, Sr Marianne (one of our amazing leaders!) told us that the difference between a tourist and a pilgrim is this: Tourists pass through the land, while pilgrims allow the land to pass through them.

As I reflected on this through our retreat, I kept returning to the sense of 'intention.' What did I intend to do, see, accomplish? I didn't go to see buildings. I didn't go to see 'stuff.' I didn't have a terribly specific set of goals in mind. I know that I am always telling people that they should make time for spiritual things, for retreats, for prayer. And I know that I can't give what I don't have. So, I went to spend some time apart, in the land where our faith has roots---and remember. I remembered. I prayed. I wept. I sang. I photographed the places I visited. I wrote in my journal, and shared some of what I wrote in this blog. I find that the photographs have become a source of prayer and meditation for me. People have asked me what souvenirs I brought back----I didn't shop much. I brought back photos to help me keep the memories.

The women who were part of the retreat are amazing---and I learned so much from being part of our collective journey.

Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord

Today is the Feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord! The Gospel account is Luke: 9: 28-36 (which is why I included the cloud photo!).



Mt Tabor is the site of the Basilica of the Transfiguration----the early Church Fathers believed that Tabor was the site, but others have suggested Mt Hermon or Mt Arbel. But this is where the church is and where pilgrims remember the event. I remembered all the times I've given talks on retreats and mission weeks and asked people not to build their tents on the high point of the experience, but to remember that the Transfiguration only happened once. The rest of the time, Jesus and his followers were going up the mountain, going down the mountain, and walking across valleys and plains.



It's easy to want to build tents on the mountain top---but in time, I think we'd become complacent and bored with the view. We would forget how good we have it, because we wouldn't have anything else to compare it to.



I spent time in the two side chapels---the ones for Moses and Elijah----praying for the strength to continue down the mountain and into the valleys, where most of our lives are spent.

There is still much to say...

I'm back, in jet lag recovery mode. Thanks to all for your response to my bloggage---the conversation is good, yes?

There are more photos and reflections to share. Whenever I've had experiences that are reflective and/or life-changing in nature---the learning and understanding happen over time. I will continue to post photos and reflections--so stay tuned, and let's continue the conversation.