NOTES for Mat 25:31-46

Still, no teaching places the human being as high as Christ placed him, for if help given by us to anyone around us turns out to be help given to Him Himself, then here we see more than God's love for the human being. Here we rediscover the meaning of the long-known words that the Lord created us in His image and likeness, and even the fact that we constantly defile this image does not cancel the highest purpose He intended for us.

Here too we find an answer to those people who anxiously ask, "What will become of those who were far from faith but did good works?" Of course, none of us can answer with complete certainty the question of who will end up where. And yet, if the deeds really were good, those who did them will not be forgotten. For even without thinking of serving the Lord, they cared for Him. Correspondingly, those who did not give proper help to those around them will be asked according to their deeds, not according to adherence to theoretical positions.

It is interesting that if at the beginning of the parable the subject is the Son of Man, then afterward the story speaks of the King. Christ once again reveals to the disciples who He is, for by justice only the Lord is worthy to be King.

When we read today's Gospel text, we usually become very afraid, because we do not dare to imagine that the Lord will count us among the righteous. And we feel how our reason, with all its strength, demands Purgatory. This is a difficult question; at some point each person resolves it for himself. And although we understand that the line between good and evil runs through the human soul, we must still hold firmly to the Word of God, setting aside, as far as possible, the entire cultural burden of two thousand years, which at times only darkens our perception.

So the Lord speaks about the separation of the righteous from the wicked. Let us not look for our own place in this "icon," but look at it as we usually look at icons, discerning the theological meaning in the depth of the symbolism. The main message of this text, as we understand it, is that there will be no more half measures: good will be completely separated from evil. But what about that share of evil present in everyone whose mother bore him "in sins" (Ps 50), that is, in every human being?

The solution to this difficult problem may be Purgatory, or it may be Forgiveness. We have no right to impose our solution on anyone; each person comes to this himself, provided only that we respect another person's choice.

The Last Judgment may turn out not to be so frightening if we manage to get acquainted with the Judge in advance and secure His support. It turns out that this is possible. For the decisive meeting with Him, no special skill or extraordinary talents are needed, no bribes need to be given, and there is no need to run somewhere urgently. It is enough to meet the one who has most worn out our patience, our neighbor, and to treat him with complete seriousness, because through him our reconciliation takes place with the One on whom everything in our life depends.

In the canon for Meatfare Sunday, or the Sunday of the Last Judgment, as today is called, there are these words: "In his own rank, monk and hierarch, old and young, slave and master will be examined; widow and maiden will be set right; and then woe to all who did not have a blameless life. Your unbribed judgment, Your unconcealed tribunal: no clever speech, no orator's art, no witness's supposition can turn away what is righteous; for in You, O God, all hidden things stand revealed." These words seem more terrible and more saving than all the other words about worms and fire. This is something of enormous importance: only righteous testimony, and not any words, will be accepted for consideration. Very often now, among believing intellectuals, it is common to say that they do not believe in hell. One may not believe in it if one has never been there; but if one has been there, belief is no longer the issue. One of our older contemporaries, a holy martyr, said that hell is when all around there is I-I-I, as in a mirrored room ("no one knocks at my door; only mirror dreams of mirror," A. Akhmatova), and paradise is when all around there is you-you-you. And this is a given: there are two such ultimate points. Either we give to the least of these, or we do not; either "I" exists for us, or "you" does. There is no escaping or getting away from this. And being in such a mirrored room is truly terribly painful; worms and pans of boiling oil hardly compare. Only few people resolve this torment by leaving that mirrored room. Most prefer simply to hang it with various cozy things and live without suffering very much, except sometimes for anxious thoughts that someone will break in and tear it all down again... but it is so easy to push this torment away by thinking about an ever stronger lock.

In what the Lord Jesus Christ tells the disciples about the Last Judgment, three things are important to single out. First, the separation of the justified and the unjustified does happen. The choice of a life position and, as a consequence, the choice of justification or non-justification, is real for us. This is important, because we like to paint everything in rosy colors and think that in the last moment everything will somehow work out anyway. However, the Lord says more than once that there is a real possibility for us to choose hell and death. Strictly speaking, this is the reverse side of the possibility of choosing Christ and life.

Second, the criterion for selection and justification turns out to be the realization of the ability given to us to love and have compassion selflessly. In Christ's parable, after all, the Lord comes to us in those people from whom nothing can be received in return for mercy: the poor, the sick, and prisoners. This can be very displeasing to us, because the "religious psychology of the fallen human being," which the apostle Paul calls "sin living in me," prefers to put forward other things as justification, from outstanding qualities of soul to active and energetic service to what is passing away.

Third, all nations will be gathered for judgment. All of them, regardless of anything. Those who only just "climbed down from the tree" in the savanna fifty thousand years ago, and those who twenty thousand years ago went to America over the ice of the Bering Strait. Those who lived in the Middle East in the first half of the first century, and those who live in the countries of Christian Europe. All, regardless of how much or how little had been revealed to them about God, will be judged by whether we were capable of compassion, of helping people, and of pitying them. This is comforting, because such a judgment gives anyone the possibility of justification. It is frightening, because deep down we know that such people are rare.

It is important, however, to keep in mind that the Gospel speaks of the unique possibility of not coming to judgment, but passing directly from death into life. This path is faith working through love.

Today's reading concludes the cycle of Jesus' conversations about the coming of the Kingdom and about His future return, and it concludes with a conversation about Judgment. It is no surprise that those entering the Kingdom pass through Judgment; what is surprising is something else: the criteria presented to those who enter.

The traditional idea of Judgment assumed that righteousness is determined by whether a person followed the commandments and prescriptions of the Law. Here, however, at the Judgment Jesus asks only one question: did you feed Me, give Me drink, stand near Me in a difficult moment (vv. 34-46)? And in answer to the astonished questions of those entering, He explains: if you did this, or did not do this, for one of My least brothers, count it as having done it, or not done it, for Me (vv. 40, 45).

Commentators traditionally cite this conversation as a basis for works of mercy, understanding "least brothers" to mean all who need help or find themselves in hardship. But Jesus is speaking here specifically about His "least brothers," more precisely, about "these least brothers." In the scene of Judgment as Jesus describes it, there is no one except the King Himself and those who have come to Judgment. In that case, by "these least brothers" Jesus evidently could have meant only the apostles who were listening to Him, of whom He, presenting the King at the Judgment, speaks, evidently, in the third person, thereby drawing His listeners into His story.

But then the point is not the poor or those in need of help, but the community of the faithful who carry the Kingdom into the world, that is, the Church in the form in which Jesus Himself conceived and created it. At first glance such a turn in the story may seem unusual, but in other situations too Jesus had to redirect the listeners' attention from the poor to Himself. Here He directs the listeners' attention to His followers, who will have to carry the Kingdom into the world.

And this is no surprise, because He considers precisely this task the most important. The Church is not needed to satisfy anyone's religious needs, not to promote morality, and not even to help those in need. It is needed in order to carry the Kingdom into the world, and all its other activity can and must be only a consequence, a kind of byproduct, arising from the fulfillment of this main task. That is why the attitude toward those who fulfill it becomes the main criterion determining the possibility, or impossibility, for the one entering to cross the threshold of the Kingdom: the attitude toward them was the expression of his attitude toward the Kingdom at the time when it was only entering the world and had not yet been revealed in all its fullness. It is easy and pleasant to support a triumphant victor; supporting the one who still has to win is far from always pleasant, and sometimes such support involves mortal risk. But the Kingdom is indivisible, and now, while it is only entering the world and therefore sometimes remains hidden, it remains the same as it will be when it is revealed in all its fullness. And the one who turns away now from the Kingdom and from those who live by it will hardly be able at the Judgment to convince the King that his joy over the triumph of the Kingdom is sincere.

The criteria of Judgment described in this parable still surprise and trouble believers and nonbelievers today. It says nothing about faith in the usual sense of the word. Nothing about denominations, parties, or ideology. Nothing about “sins”—again, in the usual sense. Nothing about religious acts, rites, prayer, or the Church. It is not even about Christ as we imagine Him: both the saved and the condemned are sincerely astonished, certain that they have never encountered Him. It is only about those who always hinder us from “believing,” “praying,” and “being saved”—the people around us. And about us as human beings. It is about humanity as revealed in relationships between people. Here, at the Last Judgment, these relationships suddenly grow to unimaginable, truly “religious” proportions: a person’s humanity proves to be the measure of his kinship with God through the Man Jesus Christ.