Sunday of Last Judgment - Archimandrite Panteleimon Manoussakis
A Sermon Preached at the Church of Holy Trinity in Holyoke By V. Rev. Archimandrite, Prof. Panteleimon Manoussakis
After the parables of the Publican and the Pharisee and of the Prodigal Son that we heard on the last two Sundays, my dear brethren, the Church invites us to reflect today on a third, equally well-known parable, that of the judgment of the nations (Mathew 25: 31-46).
“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.” (Mt. 25: 31-2)
The parable ends with the grim picture of each of the two groups—the sheep, on the one hand, the goats, on the other—going each their separate ways; the former to eternal life, the latter to eternal punishment (Mt. 25:46).
Here we have an image of krisis, in the sense of a “criticism” based upon a criterion: the criterion according to which the separation between sheep and goats, and therefore, between eternal life and eternal punishment, is decided is rather a simple one: feed the hungry, give a drink to the thirsty one, extend an invitation to the stranger, cloth the poor, take care of the sick, visit those in prison. “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (Mt. 25:40).
Because precisely of the apparent simplicity of this message, people have felt the need to reduce the whole Gospel—and along with it everything else in the Church—to this simplification: do good to others, especially those in need, and you will be saved.
There are no revealed truths here that one should commit to, no leaps of faith to be undertaken in embracing what one cannot understand; there is no need even for understanding here: one can put the Scripture aside, lay the dusty books of Patristic exegesis to rest, set aside the difficult and, at times, absurd formulae of faith that the Church has promulgated through Her Councils. Here salvation is made at last easy: do good to others, especially those in need, and you will be saved.
Philanthropy saves, not theology. Philanthropy saves, not the sacramental life of the Church. It is the soup kitchens of this world that matter, and our benefit galas, and our donations to the charities, not the humble sacraments of the Church.
But such a view, my dear brethren, is a gross misunderstanding of today’s Gospel. It is, in fact, more than a misunderstanding, it is blasphemy and heresy.
Why, I ask you, should the inaccessible and transcendent God become Man, if the key to my salvation was already next to me, in the love of my neighbor? And why, should this God Who emptied Himself in receiving the form of a servant, suffer a most excruciating passion, and die, “even death on the cross” (Phil. 2:7-8), if my salvation was only a step away? Unnecessary, then, the plan of the Divine Economy and unnecessarily Christ died on the Cross. It would have been enough for me to be “just good,” for goodness’s sake.
Salvation by good works is an idea that doesn’t need Christ or His Church. Everyone can be good, for himself and to others, without having to be a Christian. One can be the adherent of any other religion, or, better yet, of no religion at all, and “be saved.” (You see, though, even the meaning of the word “salvation” makes no sense when stretched so thinly.) Then, one does not need a Savior for there are here thousands of them. I can understand how one can save us all, but if we are all saviors, then there is no one left to be saved.
Do I deny, then, the value of doing what is good, of loving one’s neighbor, of helping others? Of course not. You see there is a fundamental difference between secular philanthropy and Christian love for “the least of them.” Judged externally, the two are identical—I give to the poor in the same way you do. My acts of charity can, in fact, be identical with those of the non-believer. Yet, there are worlds apart. Today’s Gospel explains this difference. I give to the poor because I see Christ in him, because he—the poor, the sick, the homeless—is another Christ for me. If, however, there is no Christ, then what are the reasons of doing the good? Because, in helping the poor, I can eliminate poverty. In taking care of the sick, I can eradicate sickness. In clothing the homeless, I can make this world a better place. What is wrong in doing so?—you may ask. It should have been clear. He who does the good not for Christ’s sake he can only do it believing he is Christ. He can do so only in making himself Christ. And that’s indeed blasphemous.
The world, my brethren, had no need to wait for us Christians to teach them what is rather obvious, that is, that we should take care of those less privileged. On the other hand, my dear brethren, the world had no idea of a truth that only we, Christians, can explain: why each and every of the “least of them” is invested with the value and the dignity of the infinite. It is because God became Man that now I cannot but see in every Man the image of God, and thus act towards him or her accordingly. The difference, then, between sheep and goats depends on where does one see Christ—in the others, or, egotistically, in oneself.
Let us learn, then, to recognize our Lord and only Savior in the faces of our brothers and sisters and let us learn to serve them as if we were serving Him Himself. In that way, we can hope to hear the words: ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you before the creation of the world” (Mt. 25:34). Amen.
