Sheep and goats – 21 November 2014

Next Sunday is the last of the liturgical year, and of course we get the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats.  It’s stark and uncompromising, and I feel it never improves from one year to the next.  Those who had fed the hungry and the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, cared for the sick, visited the prisoners, are at the final judgment set at the Saviour’s right hand in glory.  Those who had neglected these things are consigned, with rejection, humiliation and abuse, to the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. 

The worst way to deal with this parable, it seems to me, would be to rush out and feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, care for the sick and visit the prisoner – in order to be among the sheep rather than the goats.  It won’t work, and it’s not the point.  One aspect that interests me here is that the sheep didn’t know that they had been doing all these things:  Lord, when did we see you hungry…? and so on.  The goats, similarly, didn’t know that they had been neglecting all this.   Everyone was surprised.  This is scarcely welcome news for the overly righteous, the morally scrupulous, because it seems to indicate that what matters is at a deeper level than our actions and fulfilment of duties.

However, this list of benevolent acts is what Catholics call the Corporal Works of Mercy.  They add one more to make the list up to seven, so we have:  Feed the hungry, Give water to the thirsty, Clothe the naked, Visit the prisoner, Visit the sick, Free the captive, Bury the dead.  There are also the seven Spiritual Works of Mercy:  Instruct the ignorant, Counsel the doubtful, Admonish sinners, Bear wrongs patiently, Forgive offences willingly, Comfort the afflicted, Pray for the living and the dead.  There are actually study guides and work sheets on sale for instruction in all this, if you’re having difficulty. 

The realities in life, as we well know, are otherwise.  If we must have labels, which I find distorting and oppressive, then the fact is that most of us find we are sometimes among the sheep and sometimes among the goats.  And that’s on a good day.  We are unsure, also, about this God who separates sheep from goats, according to those criteria, and consigns the goats to perdition.  Something is badly the matter with that.  Christ is the icon of the invisible God, St Paul teaches, and the picture in this parable does not seem Christlike.

But the parable does give us a very timely urgency about social justice, and it links this directly with God’s purposes.  In our contemplative life we expect to be changed, and for the change to continue and develop.  I may not be feeding the hungry or visiting the prisoner right now, but I will be some way involved in healing a broken world and bringing relief where it is needed.  I may be in a position where I can influence decision-makers. 

What also strikes me about this is that all these works of mercy are equally well done by atheists, Jews, Buddhists, Moslems, or people with tattoos – and many do just that.  These are not uniquely Christian acts.  Jesus in this parable expected his disciples in any age, to do what is simply good and necessary – it may be with Amnesty or with Doctors Without Borders, or it may be in our own neighbourhood, family or churches.  But we do it, we see it done, we feel it and we yearn for it, more and more as our egos and ego-needs diminish.