Sheep & Goats
After decades of battles and truces, 1386 CE arrived with both French and English wanting to put an end to the drawn out war that had caused such misery in both countries. Despite victories at various times on both sides of the Channel, neither kingdom could seem to bring the war to conclusion.
As Spring dawned, however, the King of France (or more probably, his uncles) saw an opportunity. What seemed needed was an all out invasion of England by a massive French force. In April, the Royal Council voted unanimously for the invasion.
Vast numbers of knights, horses, and foot soldiers were assembled. A huge fleet of ships was built. “Swords, lances, halberds, suits of armor, helmets, shields, banners, pennants, 200,000 arrows, 1000 pounds of gunpowder, 138 stone cannonballs, 500 ramming prows for the ships, catapults, and flame-throwers were collected.”1 And most impressive of all, a whole fortress city was constructed, systematically taken apart, and loaded on ships for rapid assembly on an appropriate beachhead in England. For once, France was well prepared.
There was just one problem. All the notable lords of France were present except one. The Duc de Berry was nowhere to be seen. The king was very reluctant to proceed without this powerful member of France’s elite (and one of his uncles).
It would seem Berry was not your typical 14th century nobleman. Most nobles of that day seemed to like nothing better than fighting. If there wasn’t a war going on they were unhappy. They sought out tournaments in which to fight. They went on expeditions against other kingdoms. They invented crusades. They fought one another. And if they were released from military service, they often took to marauding across the countryside. Such doesn’t seem to be the case with the Duc de Berry.
Rather than fighting for glory, Berry was into collecting. He had agents all over the world on the lookout for anything novel, beautiful, and/or valuable. You name it. “Clocks, coins, enamels, mosaics, marquetry, illuminated books, musical instruments, tapestries, statues, triptychs . . . , gold vessels, spoons, jeweled crosses and reliquaries, relics, and curios.”2 He collected them all and more.
Berry built or acquired seventeen castles and several more residences just to store all the stuff he collected. And how did he pay for it all? You probably already know the answer. Out of the labor of those he ruled. He gratified his acquisitive whims by impoverishing the working people of Auvergne and Languedoc. He demanded more from the meager resources of those he governed than any other lord in France at that time. The result was misery for most of the populace.
Both war and desire for material goods were the privilege of the few aristocrats who held power over the peasants. Lords, dukes, earls, barrons, and kings seemed to care little for the woes of others with whom they were surrounded. The culture of the middle ages was such that while one noble might have some obligation to another noble, the “common good” or love for the “least of these” was not even on their radar screen.
Yet the nobility of the age were quite religious. They would be shocked if their commitment to their Christian faith were questioned. They built churches, monasteries, cathedrals, and even chapels for their own houses. They traveled with spiritual counselors. They prayed regularly. They supported the Church. They were zealous against the enemies of the faith. Before leaving for war they endowed monks whose sole duty would be to pray for them continually. Spiritual fervor was not lacking.
But were they sheep or were they goats?
While judgment is solely in the hands of God and His Son, we have some clues as to how judgment unfolds. In Matthew 25: 31-46 Jesus describes how the final choice will be made between those who will spend eternity with Him and those who will not.
I think this passage is often misunderstood. Many look at it as flirting with the view that our good works save us. After all, Jesus lists a number of charitable activities which will ensure we are “sheep” rather than “goats.” He says:
35I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ . . . 40‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’
Matthew 25 ESV
This language seems relatively straightforward. It would seem to say that if we feed the hungry, welcome the stranger, visit the sick, or do other acts of piety we should be fine in eternity. The only question remaining might be how many acts are required for the minimum entrance fee?
Charity on the part of the nobility was certainly not unknown in the 14th century. Indeed, I’m guessing many nobles tried to do enough to make sure they got into heaven. And if perhaps they fell short, attending mass, endowing prayers, confession, and last rights should make up the difference. After all, isn’t Christianity a transaction? If I do these things, God will give me paradise for eternity. Right?
But is this really what Jesus is saying in Matthew 25? The problem with common interpretations of this passage is that we assume Jesus is listing acts which will get us into eternal life. We sometimes miss the point that the “sheep” weren’t even thinking about whether they were doing things to secure a positive judgement. They didn’t even think the great Judge of all the Earth would notice. Note how dumbfounded they are by their selection to Jesus’ right hand.
37 Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? 38 And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? 39 And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’
Matthew 25, ESV
The criterion for judgment seems to relate less to the intentional performance of good deeds and more to the internalized character of the sheep. They were people of selfless love. When they saw someone hurting their unbidden impulse was to do what they could to meet that need. They weren’t thinking about God, or Jesus, or judgment, or heaven. They were just thinking about helping one of “the least of these.”
Why do you suppose the fundamental criterion for salvation is the reflex to selfless love? I think it’s because this is the central characteristic of God’s nature. And when one is born again to new life in Christ, he or she is newly created to a life of love.
The only way for people to enjoy the presence of God is to share in His character. When He calls us to “be holy for I am holy” He means to be like Him in character. Of course, we’re not called to be all powerful or all knowing. But selfless, unconditional love is His essence and it therefore must be our essence. (Cf. 1 John 4:7-12)
This selfless love doesn’t naturally dominate our lives, just as it didn’t naturally dominate the lives of 14th century noblemen. We are no less prone to fighting, materialism, ambition, and deliberate ignorance of the needs of our fellow travelers–particularly when we perceive those around us as from some different group or class or station in life.
Only by the regenerating work of God’s Spirit can we share in God’s loving character. Many aspire to it. Often those not of the household of faith do a phenomenal job exhibiting acts of sacrificial loving. But to truly embody the quality and attitude we see in the life of Jesus, we must abide in the Spirit and be empowered and made holy by Him. (Cf. Galatians 5:22)
May my own heart be made like the heart of Jesus!
1Barbara W Tuchman, A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century (New York: Random House, 1978), p. 452.
2Ibid, p. 454.