BY DAN GIANG

"Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'"—Matt. 25:34-36, NIV.

ears ago the architects of a new medical research building designed space for six elevators. I imagine accountants "downsized" it to four. Floors were built in the erstwhile elevator shafts and the rooms were assigned to the maintenance department. The tall doorways in each floor's elevator lobby were painted a nondescript brown.

Now scientists ponder their research on AIDS or Alzheimer's disease while they wait for four elevators; janitors store the trash in the two rooms behind the tall brown doors.

I never paid any attention to the doors until the Yosemite Valley appeared on one of them. A large colored photograph of the valley in summer blazed out to the elevator lobby. Next to it were pictures of Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, and the Grand Tetons. Underneath were colorful photographs of moose, eagles, and bears. As I admired the pictures I noticed the new janitor shyly watching me.

"Did you put these up?" I asked with a smile.

"Yes," he replied proudly as he pointed out the pictures. "National parks. Animals."

That is how I met Bill Lui. Like the trash room doors (before he visited them with his art), he did not attract attention, dressed in his maintenance department uniform. He is a slim-built Chinese man, about 50 years old. Once he ascertained I was Chinese he would greet me in Mandarin, "How are you, Dr. Giang?" I could reply, "Fine how are you?" in Mandarin. However, he would ask then, "How do you write your Chinese name? Where were you born? Do you have brothers or sisters? How are your parents? Which province did they come from?" I would struggle to answer in a mix of broken Mandarin and English.

Mr. Lui had owned his own transportation company, consisting of a single truck, in South Vietnam. He and his wife escaped in a boat in 1977, hoping to reach Singapore. They were intercepted a few miles short of their goal and interned in Malaysia. By 1980 they had come to Rochester, New York, where they've been raising their three children. They attend the local Chinese Community church. "You should come sometime," he said. "They translate everything into Cantonese and Mandarin."

Every few months new decorations appear on the trash room doors, usually consisting of carefully arranged discarded calendar photographs. The latest decoration was a piece of white cardboard originally part of the packaging of electronic apparatus. When it was unfolded, its holes created two eyes and a mouth. Flaps became upraised ghostly arms to mark Halloween.

Mr. Lui seldom interrupts conversations in the offices and labs he cleans. He smiles or quietly greets the secretaries and technicians. He occasionally gives a lab technician a Chinese New Year banner or tells a secretary how his children are doing in high school. Once he bemoaned the fact that his children never spoke Cantonese anymore. "They are not like you," he said. "You speak very good Mandarin"—a statement even my own mother would admit wildly exaggerates my linguistic skills. Nevertheless, I felt good. I always feel better after talking with Mr. Lui.

Righteousness by Small Works?
Jesus told a parable about people like Mr. Lui in Matthew 25. "When the Son of Man comes as King and all the angels with him, he will sit on his royal throne, and the people of all the nations will be gathered before him. Then he will divide them into two groups" (verses 31, 32, TEV).

You and I are familiar with God's criteria in the final judgment. God does not separate the righteous and wicked on the basis of the evangelistic sermons we preached, the diseases we cured, or even the miracles we received (see Matt. 7:21-23). He instead looks at whether people were better off for having met us. Did you give food to the hungry, water to the thirsty, clothes to those who needed them, comfort to the suffering, friendship to those in prison? In the final judgment, titles, diplomas, and baptismal statistics do not matter. God seems to care about tiny gestures of kindness to people around us. Is this righteousness by small works?

Jesus adds an important detail to the parable that greatly appeals to me. After He commends the sheep for their kind acts, the sheep ask, "What are you talking about?" They are surprised that anyone would commend them for their actions! How could this be?

I believe the explanation is that the sheep are kind by their nature. They naturally act kindly. They are kind people. Sheep do not give a glass of water because they have been enjoined to do so. They do not visit a sick person because He is the King. They simply see a person in need and help. They do not view this as moral heroism. It surprises them anyone would notice these acts, much the less reward them.

By contrast, the goats would gladly do all of these acts if only someone would tell them they were required. When modern-day goats read Matthew 25, they generate a list: "Food cupboard on Monday, Dorcas meeting on Tuesday, Sunshine Band on Wednesday, and prison ministry on Thursday." These are all worthy projects. Sheep do them too. The acts are the same, but the attitudes behind them differ.

Behind each act, an attitude
Throughout Matthew's Gospel runs a theme: God is interested in attitudes. Jesus begins teaching by commending those who are poor in spirit, sorrowful, gentle, merciful, and pure. He says that anger is as bad as murder and lust is as bad as adultery. He quotes Hosea: "I desire mercy, not sacrifice" (Matt. 9: 13, NIV). He tells His disciples that they must be like little children.

Goats sponsor institution-wide door-decorating contests to improve employee morale. They appoint judges, present awards, and print pictures in newsletters of the winner standing next to the door. Acts of kindness that grow out of a goat pen retain the odor of self-aggrandizement. My friend Mr. Lui is a sheep. He simply thought it would be nice to decorate the trash room doors.

What matters the most in our lives on this earth? Jesus says by this parable that we should be kind people who brighten our surroundings. God has this attribute. By beholding His character, we become like Him.

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Dan Giang was teaching neurology at the University of Rochester in New York when he wrote this article.