“Sunday Reflection” is a regular feature, looking at the specific readings used in today’s Mass in Catholic parishes around the world. The reflection represents only my own point of view, intended to help prepare myself for the Lord’s day and perhaps spark a meaningful discussion. Previous Sunday Reflections from the main page can be found here. For previous Green Room entries, click here.
This morning’s Gospel reading is Matthew 25:31–46:
Jesus said to his disciples:
“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit upon his glorious throne, and all the nations will be assembled before him. And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’
Then the righteous will answer him and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?’ And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of the least brothers of mine, you did for me.’
Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, a stranger and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing, ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.’ Then they will answer and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and not minister to your needs?’ He will answer them, ‘Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.’ And these will go off to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”
Over the last couple of years, I studied Catholic theology in a program designed to promote better catechesis in our diocese. A few months later, I still hadn’t made up my mind how to put that education into practice other than my own benefit. The Catechetical Institute model provides a train-the-trainer dynamic, which intends to send its graduates back to their parishes to bolster and improve catechesis. The obvious choice would be to teach faith formation, which I wanted to do, but couldn’t make up my mind how and when to commit to it.
That choice got made for me rather abruptly. After Mass a few weeks ago, our new priest greeted me and asked me bluntly, “So when are you going to put that education to work?” After a bit of hemming and hawing, he said, “I hear they need teachers for fourth graders on Wednesday afternoons. Why don’t you do that?” Having nothing much to add to that, and no reason to decline, I accepted, even though I had wanted to focus more on teenagers or adult faith formation as part of confirmation. That, however, wasn’t where the need was.
For the past couple of months, I’ve been partnered with my wife for 4th grade faith formation, and … it’s been an interesting process. My favorite word to describe students at this age is “squirrelly,” as they are bursting with energy and enthusiasm but not necessarily with focus. At times, if you’ll pardon the mixed metaphor, it feels like herding cats. However, it’s surprising how much insight they have at this age, and how open their hearts are to others.
Over the last couple of weeks, our classes worked on Thanksgiving food baskets for the poor in our community. We live in a middle-class suburb with very little exposure to obvious poverty, so kids struggled a bit with comprehension that poverty existed in our community at all. We explained that the baskets would be taken to the homes of those in need, and one asked, “Do you ring the doorbell?” Another retorted, “They don’t have doorbells if they’re poor.” The project opened up good discussions on poverty, both temporary and chronic, and how the poor disappear from our sight if we allow that to happen.
The children were asked to volunteer to bring one item from a list to put in a supermarket shopping box (the basket), and I assumed at first that they would only reluctantly participate. Instead, most of them wanted to bring two items rather than one, and some suggested items that weren’t on the list at all. When it came time to put the baskets together, all of the students enthusiastically decorated the baskets in order to brighten up the project. One of them told me that she was coloring a note with bright colors to make the family happy on Thanksgiving.
These students had grasped the lesson that Jesus teaches in this parable, even without knowing it. We are called to action for those left behind, not just for their temporal needs, but for all our eternal needs. When we enter in eternal life, we will live in unity with the Trinity and our brothers and sisters, which seems almost alien and impossible for us at times. We have to form ourselves to that kind of live, to that kind of self-sacrificing love, by employing it in this life, even imperfectly as we are prone to do anything. Each person in poverty has the potential to be united in Christ for eternity, which means how we treat them is how we treat Christ. Until we form ourselves to Christ’s love and recognize that, we will not be prepared for eternal life in the Kingdom of God.
Even more to the point, it’s not enough to merely perform these actions as an obligation. The children in my class may have thought at one point of this project as an obligation, but they performed it with joy. They laughed, colored, told jokes, and saw the fun and joy in helping others in one of the most basic ways possible — feeding the hungry on a day where excess is usually the rule. They wanted to share, rather than feeling guilted into it or assigned it as homework.
This is, perhaps, why Jesus used sheep and goats in his parable. Goats tend to wander off by themselves, while sheep remain more in a group for mutual support. In the rural environment of Jesus’ time, the shepherds would have understood the subtlety involved, especially given that both animals were important for their subsistence. Jesus often used sheep in his parables to speak of his own flock, especially how a good shepherd would risk himself to find the lost sheep and bring them home. This is the only mention Jesus makes of goats in his ministry, and the only mention of goats in all of the New Testament except for the Paul’s epistle to the Hebrews about the futility of animal sacrifice. It’s not that the goats are somehow evil, but that they appear (through behavior that would have been immediately familiar to Jesus’ audience) to be more self-centered rather than formed to the group. It’s a metaphor for the parable itself.
This is a lesson about unity, and as in the parable of the talents, shows unity to be an active pursuit. We are called to action to restore the unity God desired in humanity — not just unity with Him, but unity with each other as well in Him. That should not be a burden, but a joyful mission, as I learned from the students in the class that I had to be talked into serving. Jesus tells us in Luke 18:17, “Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it.” That’s a lesson I learned this November, and yet another reason to be thankful for the guidance of the Holy Spirit this Thursday.
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