This weekend's reflection

[ironphoenix]

Reflection for 28-29 September, 2013
26th Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year C
Text: Amos 6:1, 4-7; Psalm 146:7-10; 1 Timothy 6:11-16; Luke 16:19-31.

Here at St. Joe’s, we say that all are welcome, but Jesus tells us of a great gulf fixed between the rich man in Hades and heaven to stop anyone from crossing over.¹ Are we more welcoming than God?

To unravel this question, we might start at the rich man. In life, he ignored Lazarus, stepping over him at his gate every time he went in and out without so much as a word. In death, it seems he is no different: he doesn’t see Lazarus as a worthwhile person, addressing Abraham, who is much more prestigious, and begging him to send Lazarus as one would a servant or slave. Even stripped of all the wealth that made him seem great in life, he refuses to acknowledge his kinship with each and every person, regardless of their apparent station.

In God, there is “no more distinction between Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female, but all … are one in Christ Jesus.”² Anyone who insists on preserving such distinctions cannot join in that unity, because they themselves refuse it. Lazarus and Abraham are equals in Heaven. The story doesn’t tell whether the rich man’s exile, like the Jews’ in Amos’ time, is temporary, and so whether he ever finds his way to that fundamental truth and joins Lazarus and Abraham; it’s my hope that eventually, all do, but I can’t claim to be sure.

Purgatory is a doctrine which expresses that hope: that even though we may be unable to join in the ultimate Communion at the moment when we die, there remains some way for us to be purified thereafter. It may not be easy or pleasant, and so Jesus warns us of suffering in the afterlife in order to encourage us to make ourselves ready in this world. God created this world and gave us this life for a reason; perhaps it is because it is easiest to learn these things here, even though, as the Catechism points out, even after death, “God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance.”³ As Peter writes, God wants “nobody to be lost and everybody to be brought to change [their] ways.”⁴

So where do I fit in? I drove here in my own car from my townhouse out in Kanata; neither is particularly luxurious when compared against those of rock stars or NHL hockey players, but they’re certainly enough for my wife and me to get by. I’m closer to the rich man than to Lazarus: at first glance, I’m pretty self-sufficient. That self-sufficiency is one of the great dangers of wealth: I don’t need to look to my sister or my brother, and so may be tempted to ignore them in their need. In a word, I may become, like the Jews Amos was addressing, complacent. Paul warns Timothy against this complacency too, telling him to avoid concern with wealth and to “fight the good fight”.⁵ Someday, material wealth will either be torn away—ask those who have lost everything in war or economic collapse—or will be worthless anyway, and the security of wealth will be revealed as an illusion.

In one way, the fight can be easy: Lazarus doesn’t ask for half of the rich man’s wealth, or even a small share of it; he “longed to fill himself with the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table.”⁶ Surely we can at least accommodate that, and give what we have left over, what we wouldn’t even miss? This parable doesn’t even ask us to give all we have, like the widow giving her only coins at the Temple⁷ or the rich man Jesus asked to give all he had to the poor and follow him.⁸ All we have to do is recognize and acknowledge the person on our doorstep, and give what we don’t need.

Our doorstep, however, has gotten bigger over the centuries, as we have the means to be aware of and influence people all around the world. I am faced not only with the need of the homeless person asking for spare change on the MacKenzie King Bridge, but also with the needs of the underpaid worker in Malaysia, the war orphan in Somalia, the displaced native in Brazil. I’ve run out of scraps. I could give everything I have a thousand times over, and not even make a dent in the need that confronts me. The fight is harder now, because I am called to acknowledge all these people for whom I can do so little. Yes, we make a difference collectively, notably through Development and Peace, but more always remains; there will always be poor people.⁹ It’s tempting to turn away¹⁰ like the rich man in the story, isn’t it?

Yet, it is through awareness that we change what we do and who we are. I won’t presume to direct anyone in the specifics of the call that awareness will awaken in you; I have a hard enough time hearing and understanding my own, and your calling is probably different from mine anyway. I can only keep my ears open, and trust that God speaks to me in each person, including and sometimes especially the poor—that this is how God “whom no human has seen and no human is able to see”¹¹ is revealed. Through this, we are each and all called to share and to participate in God’s all-embracing love.

---

1: Luke 16:26
2: Galatians 3:28
3: Catechism of the Catholic Church (1994), Article 2283.
4: 2 Peter 3:9
5: 1 Timothy 6:12
6: Luke 16:21
7: Luke 21:2-4
8: Luke 18:22-23
9: Deuteronomy 15:11
10: Cf. Pink Floyd, “On the Turning Away”
11: 1 Timothy 6:16

Comments

[khall.livejournal.com]

That's a neat point. That in Biblical days, 'the poor' were probably someone that you knew. Nowadays...Bill Gates would go broke trying to give 100$ each to just the poor in NYC.

K.

[ironphoenix.livejournal.com]

*nods* It's easy to despair, which is in part responsible for the rise of apocalyptic millenialism.

Also, thanks for commenting... I keep hoping for more engagement on these. My thoughts aren't the last word by any means, and my own understanding evolves in large part through others' ideas.

[khall.livejournal.com]

So this is a little off-topic...but one of the interesting things to me about Biblical days is that clothes, particularly women's were just pieces of cloth, folded and wrapped to stay on. Maybe pinned or broached if they had money.

Imagine the vulnerability and...difference in perspective, especially in pre-law times. In other words, the bible talks a lot about rape, it's a totally different perspective when you realize that one firm grab and a yank could take all the (relevant) clothes off of someone. Dunno. This insight came to me from some sarong work we did in class.:P

K.

[ironphoenix.livejournal.com]

*nods* Do you mean, pre-Mosaic Law times?

I also recall that clothes were frequently poor people's most valuable possessions.

[khall.livejournal.com]

You and me are walking down the road, leading our donkeys full of trade goods. The only thing that stops me from walking away, with both donkeys (except your kenjutsu:P) is some form of morality. However, given that 2% of the population are psychopaths...and there was literally no 'social contract' outside the view of the authorities, or for those authorities, for that matter...it's an interesting thing.

So much medieval/historical fantasy and literature never makes the point that..it's a totally different world. There's no cops. None. No law, really, even, as we define it now. It usually cost you money to prosecute crimes against the assailant and if you were poor, there wasn't any recourse. There was no DNA, no fingerprints, no real interest, outside your own family, in even making sure you didn't get murdered. Once "we're" out of sight of the city walls/the people watching...I can commit virtually any crime and...there's no way for any one to catch me.

There's no...social...structure for believing in the rule of law, before about 1500 AD in most of the western world. Real...enforcement didn't begin until almost the 1800s in most places. Until then...the city guard or town watch kept the thieves out of the shops and from mugging rich people who wouldn't want to trade there any more if they got mugged. But if you were alone, or powerless, you had no cultural, social, or...structural defense/protection.

People who molest or beat their kids back then? No law against it. And if there was, no way to enforce it. Want to go out in the boonies and randomly murder people? No way to stop you. Just...a totally different time than it is now and...a wildly different way of thinking. That's what I meant by pre-law. Now, 90% of the reason criminals don't do things is the fear of being caught. Back then...there wasn't really that.:)

K.