Homily for the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

One thing that makes me feel uncomfortable is when a poor person I meet on the street or at an intersection asks me for money. I think most of us struggle with the issue of whether we are really helping the person or supporting an addiction. I’ve heard all the reasons why we either should or shouldn’t help them, and so I often waffle in what to do. 

Some time ago, a friend of mine, Fr. Jim, was in downtown St. Louis, Missouri for dinner. He was dressed in casual clothes, and a homeless person, who was lying on a park bench, sat up and asked him for some change. Fr. Jim had a little extra time and a few singles in his pocket, so he stopped and asked him what his name was. The man was silent and just stared at him. Fr. Jim wondered if he had offended him. Then the man asked, “Who are you?! I’ve been living in this park for over a week; a few people have given me some money, but no one has asked me who I am; I didn’t think I mattered.” Then he said with a smile, “My name is Tom.”

Usually, the poor of the world go nameless to those who have the comforts of food and shelter. We pray for the poor… in general, we read about poverty statistics…in general, and we see photos of ‘them’ in the news. But when we actually learn the name of a poor person and a little about them, we think of them differently; we have a certain kind of ‘relationship’ with the person. Fr. Jim says that, while that short conversation with Tom didn’t convert him enough to now give his money away to every homeless person he encounters, Tom’s face and name have given him much more to reflect on each time he hears another message from Jesus about helping the poor.

It’s no coincidence that in the parable Jesus gives us the name of the poor person, but not the name of the rich man. Jesus gives importance and dignity to the poor person in the story by telling us that his name is Lazarus. 

Before we ‘write off’ the parable as one more story about God’s love for the poor and a warning about the risks of material wealth, note that the parable is not a condemnation of wealth per se. Rather, the parable is asking those who have what they need (and more) whether or not they are sharing what they have. Have we helped in any way to lessen the gap between we who have, and those who have little?

We learn that while possessions are not evil in themselves, they must not turn our minds and hearts away from those people in the world who have so little. In the parable, the rich man uses his wealth only for himself, and so it is his complacency that is condemned. We may not think of ourselves as wealthy, but we can still become indifferent toward the poor. The whole story begs the question of whether or not we are even aware of the poor around us and among us. 

The parable is left without an ending in that we never find out if the five brothers ever got the message about the consequences of ignoring the poor. And so, we get to write our own ending of what we will do with our lives in light of what just learned about the differences between the short-term riches of this world and the eternal riches of God’s world. 

As we prepare to receive Jesus’ Body and Blood, we are challenged by this Gospel to keep asking ourselves what else we might be doing to care for all members of Christ’s Body.