Again this week our first reading comes from the Book of the Prophet Amos and once again it sets the stage perfectly for our Gospel reading from St. Luke.
Amos satirically critiques the complacent wealthy of Zion. They are comfortable on their couches, eating the best foods, and enjoying the best oil. But they ignore the suffering of Judah, their Jewish brethren and neighbors to the south.
So, Amos assures them that they will be the first into exile – they will be the first to be conquered by Assyria and taken in chains from their land. They will lose everything precisely because they were unconcerned by the sufferings of their brothers and sisters. In stark terms, they are reminded that the plight of their brethren does indeed affect them, even though they choose to ignore it.
This is, of course, the perfect way to frame today’s Gospel: the famous story of Lazarus and the rich man. It’s rare that a parable gives a name to a character – but we have the name of Lazarus, which means ‘God helps.’ The Gospel gives the rich man no name, and so Tradition refers to him as ‘Die-vees,’ which simply translates as ‘rich man.’
Like Amos, Jesus calls attention to the rich man’s extravagance. He has the finest clothes and the best food. Meanwhile, right outside his very door, Lazarus is so poor the dogs lick his wounds and he longs for scraps of food from the rich man’s table.
Now be sure to recognize that the rich man does indeed see Lazarus outside his door. After all he is the one who recognizes Lazarus in the afterlife and is even able to call him by name. But the rich man was unable to see Lazarus’ need as his own concern, so he never helped him. And so like the complacent wealthy of Zion, when the rich man died he was sent into a kind of exile – he is in the netherworld, in torment, separated from God.
This prophecy from Amos and this parable from Jesus are unsettling and urgent – because there is no mistaking the fact, brothers and sisters, that you and I are the wealthy people in these stories. And there is no softening the message or making excuses for ourselves.
We are the wealthiest nation in the world, we consume more than any other nation and yet we don’t need to look to the far corners of the world to find Lazarus. He is right outside our doors, on the street corner, at the entrance to the Metro.
When I was a novice in Holy Cross, I spent a month at our soup kitchen in Phoenix Arizona. Every day we gave dozens of homeless people a chance to clean their clothes, and take a shower. And every evening we served nearly 500 meals. One night standing on the front porch of our huge facility, I watched the sun set against the buildings of downtown Phoenix. Just blocks away from this place of utter poverty, were the Wells Fargo Bank tower, and all the businesses and firms of Phoenix. I thought to myself, here is Lazarus and Die-vees.
But I thought too of my community’s Constitutions – the documents by which we profess to live our lives as priests and brothers of Holy Cross. If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to read you just a few of the lines I reflected on that night in Phoenix.
“Our efforts, which are the Lord’s, reach out to the afflicted and in a preferential way to the poor and the oppressed. We come not just as servants but as neighbors, to be with them and of them. It is not that we take sides against sinful enemies; before the Lord all of us are sinners and none is an enemy. We stand with the poor and the afflicted because only from there can we appeal as Jesus did for the conversion and deliverance of all.”
Friends, the point of that passage from our Constitutions is precisely the point of today’s rather challenging readings. Jesus does not tell this parable to “take sides against” the “sinful” rich. He does not condemn wealth – Jesus is not a class warrior. But He does appeal for our conversion and deliverance. He does instruct as, as the rich man wanted his brothers to be instructed, that the poor among us have a claim on us and are owed our attention and concern.
We must not only be the poor’s servants but their neighbors as well. And yes, our salvation depends on whether or not we are able to divorce ourselves from our own wealth, and from our own comforts long enough to recognize that the suffering of others is indeed our concern and our suffering as well.
Friends, we must not turn a blind eye to those in need, who are almost literally right outside our door. The lesson of Amos’ warning, the lesson of Jesus’ story, is that we are all deeply, organically connected. The suffering of the poor does indeed affect us all.
So, what can you and I do? First and foremost, we have the obligation to know and understand the plight of our brothers and sisters. Find opportunities to learn something about the real suffering that people endure here in our own community, and around the world. Seek out and read information about urban poverty here in the US, or about civil war and genocide in Africa. Sadly, even our news media pay all too little attention to any number of human crises. Then, learn something too about the Church’s social teaching, its long tradition of care for the poor, which springs right up out of the prophetic tradition of Amos and Jesus.
Then, consider what you might give to support and provide for the poor. The Biblical tradition is tithing, that is that 10% of all wealth belongs to the poor. It is a considerable commitment, but perhaps you might consider tithing 10% of your income for the poorest and neediest.
At the very least, you might have a poor box in your house. What a lesson it would be for families with children, if every time you rent a movie, go out for dinner, watch a ballgame, or take a vacation you could put in a portion of what you’ve spent to give to those who don’t enjoy such luxuries, and who instead worry about even the basic necessities of life.
Most importantly, though, what abut your time? It’s often more valuable to us even than our money, isn’t it? We’d rather just write a check and make a donation. But maybe we can find a way, like the teenagers of our parish, to work with the Missionaries of Charity or some other worthy charity. If we do we’ll have the chance to encounter the poor as we’re called to in today’s readings: not as strangers, but as neighbors.
Again, when I was a novice working at our homeless shelter in Phoenix, I learned that the clothing and food and shelter that we provided for brothers and sisters in need were, in the end, only as important as the warm smile, attentive listening, kind conversation, and shared prayer that we also offered our guests.
Our guests could get a handout from lots of places. What they often wanted most, however, was for someone to recognize their dignity and worth – someone to treat them as a human person, and not merely as a social problem or a statistic.
Isn’t that kind of attention and dignity the very least the rich man could have given to the man outside his door – the man he knew was named Lazarus, and who he still stepped over each and every day?
Friends, today’s readings are undeniably challenging. They make us all squirm a bit, and they’re meant to! But you and I have been given the great gift the rich man asked for: we have the witness of the prophets – and the testimony even of one who has risen from the dead: Jesus the Christ. Let it not be said of us, that we refused to listen, and refused to act.
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