BEFORE YOU IGNORE THE NEXT PERSON IN NEED
When Jesus reveals the Last Judgment in Matthew 25, He is not using poetry. He is unveiling reality.
This is not symbolic. This is not exaggerated. This is Jesus Christ describing the end.
The Son of Man comes in glory.
All nations are gathered.
The King separates sheep from goats.
And then the words that pierce eternity:
“Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the Devil and his angels.” (Mt 25:41)
Notice this clearly:
The eternal fire was prepared for the Devil and his angels — not for humanity. Hell was prepared for Satan and the fallen angels.
God created you for communion, not damnation.
But love can be rejected. Mercy can be refused. Christ can be ignored.
When a person freely rejects love — refuses mercy — ignores Christ in the vulnerable — they align themselves with the rebellion of the Devil.
And that is the shock of this Gospel.
Jesus speaks of “eternal fire.” The Church has always taught its reality — not as metaphor, but as the definitive state of self-exclusion from communion with God.
The shock of the passage is not scandalous sin — it is neglected love. The goats are not condemned for spectacular evil. They are condemned for neglected love.
“I was hungry… you gave me no food.”
“I was thirsty… you gave me no drink.”
“A stranger… no welcome.”
“Naked… no clothing.”
“Sick and in prison… no care.”
They did not curse Jesus.
They did not deny Him publicly.
They simply failed to love Him in the least.
And the Judge says: “You did not do it to Me.”
Listen to St. John Chrysostom:
“Do you wish to honor the body of Christ? Do not despise Him when naked. Do not honor Him here in the church building with silken garments while outside you leave Him suffering from cold and nakedness.”
(Homily 50 on Matthew)
The Eucharist you adore is the same Christ you pass on the street.
St. Augustine of Hippo reminds us:
“He who created you without you, will not justify you without you.”
(Sermon 169)
Grace is free — but it does not force your will. Salvation requires cooperation with love.
And hear the mystical depth of St. Catherine of Siena, as God speaks in The Dialogue:
“The damned are punished by that very fire which is My charity.”
The fire is real.
But the tragedy is this: it is love rejected.
Hell is not God delighting in punishment.
It is the state of a soul that definitively refuses mercy.
As St. John Paul II taught:
“Hell is the state of those who definitively reject the Father’s mercy, even at the last moment of their life.”
(General Audience, July 28, 1999)
Satan’s rebellion began with “I will not serve.”
The goats live the same refusal — not in dramatic defiance, but in cold indifference.
Matthew 25 is terrifying because it is ordinary.
The test is daily.
The Judge is hidden in the poor.
The decision is now.
Every poor person is a test.
Every inconvenience is an altar.
Every act of mercy is eternal.
Every ignored beggar is an encounter. Every refusal shapes your forever.
Today is mercy. Tomorrow is separation — or glory. Tomorrow is judgment.
Choose love.
Choose action.
Choose Christ in the least.
Because one day, the King will speak.
And His words will never be reversed.
You will meet Jesus in glory.
The only question is whether you will hear:
“Come, you blessed of my Father…”
Or
“Depart from me.”
And this is where the journey turns personal. Lent reminds us that we are dust — but not destined for dust. We are called from ashes into glory. The battle of Matthew 25 is ultimately about identity: will we live as children of the Father, or drift into the indifference of the fallen? True identity is revealed in love. Glory is not sentiment — it is charity lived. The throne scene is not meant to crush you, but to forearm you. You were not made for eternal fire. You were made for eternal communion.
