26th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Fr. Francis)

There was a story of a man who was devout and godly. After he attended the Mass, he found a wallet containing cash. He went to the parish priest and asked some advises on what to do with the money. The priest advised and said to him: “Give it to the owner himself.”

So he went to the street and shouted like this: “Who owns this money!” He did it for several times but nobody answered. Actually, he did not shout, he just whispered and only himself could hear it.

He went to the parish priest and reported what he did. The priest said to him: “Ok, divide it into four and give each share to the poor, to an organization who helps the poor, to the Catholic Women’s League and the other one to yourself. So, he divided it into four and started the distribution of the sharing. The first share, as what the parish priest told him to do, gave it to him. The second, supposed to be would be given to the poor, but he had this weird idea that he was a poor, so instead, he gave it to himself again. The third share, supposed to be would be given to the Catholic Women’s League, but then according to him that his mother is a member of this recognized church organization, so the third share went to him again because he represented his mother. The last share that would be given to an organization that helps the poor and remembered that his brother is a member of this, so he took the money for himself. Practically, all the money went to him.

You will recall that last week the Gospel afforded us the opportunity to reflect upon the “two ways” that are given for our choosing in this life, and that, at our death, we will be given our just rewards based on how we walked that way — how we lived our lives — whether we lived for God or for the things of this world. This week, as a direct follow-up, we see the end results of those two paths. We see that the end of the road is indeed an end, but also a beginning of something new. Depending on the path, though, the results can be glorious or disastrous, and those for an eternity. Let’s look at the Gospel to get a deeper understanding of this.

Jesus tells the Pharisees today about a rich man, whom tradition has called “Dives” simply because in Latin that is the word for “rich man.” He was known for the high quality of his clothes and the lavishness of his food. Now, the Gospels would not mention such specific facts if they were not important. What a man wears and what he eats are ultimately of passing import in a story — that is unless those are the things that define the story. For Dives, these were the things — the mammon — which had taken over his life even to the point that his purple clothes and fancy meals had become more important to him than the man who was dying on his front porch.

The poor man is Lazarus, whose name means “God is my help.” The fact that our Lord mentions his name, but not the name of the rich man is important. St. Gregory the Great says this is “because God knows and approves the humble, but not the proud” (St. Thomas Aquinas, Catena aurea, Lk 16, Lecture 4). His situation is not just that of poverty, however. For Lazarus is not only poor — he is sick and dying, and is all alone. Only the dogs are there to comfort him and clean his wounds. We know, of course, that he must have often been neglected because the rich man liked food — he probably had parties, or at least food coming in and out of his house often — and yet not a single person stopped to tend to him, to bring him food, to help him. And so he died — poor, starving, sick, and alone. It would seem a sad situation, but remember, as his name suggests, God is his help! “When the poor man died, he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham.” While he was despised in this world, the angels of heaven rejoiced to bring him help and rescue!

Soon after this, the rich man also dies. Both men came to the end of their paths — and both received their reward based on how they lived. It is clear from the Gospel: the rich man ended up in hell for ignoring those in need — even one who was right on his front porch. It wasn’t necessarily that he ate fancy food (though luxury is always an easy path to sin), but because he did nothing to help the starving man “who would gladly have eaten of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table.” Lazarus, on the other hand, who had suffered a great deal in this world, was welcomed into Paradise by none other than Abraham, our father in faith. The rich man had become the poor, for he did not even have water to quench his thirst, and his suffering was terrible in the never-ending fires of hell. The poor man had become rich, for now he rejoices in the glories and joys of heaven forever. The one chose comfort in this life and received torments in the next. The other suffered torments in this life and now has comfort in the next.

It seems backwards, perhaps, but this is the way of God. This is yet another example of how St. Luke shows the “topsy-turvy” nature of the Gospel — how he shows that God’s ways and thoughts are so far above our ways and thoughts (cf. Is 55:8–9). By our reckoning, sure Lazarus should have peace in the next life. After all, he suffered so. But should Dives really be punished forever simply for not giving food to someone? By our reckoning no, but by God’s, well, yes. Because there is more than simply not giving food to someone here. Here, there is a chasing after mammon over God, and it is shown by not loving a neighbor, even one who is dying on your porch. Here, there is absolute hatred of neighbor instead, and it leads straight to hell.

Brothers and sisters, we are not on this road to eternity alone. There are many others on the path as well and we must help each other along. When we see someone suffering the pains of this world, we as Christians must do what we can to help them, with food, drink, clothing, and the like. It cannot stop only at material help, though. We must pray for each other, especially those who suffer, even daily. Being Christian means that we show concern and care for all the poor, whether it be materially or spiritually. By doing these things, we help remind one another that “the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Rom 8:18), and even that the sufferings of this world are worth the pain if they help us stay on the path to heaven.

This week then, I encourage you to take this Gospel to heart and prayer. Is there a way you can help the poor this week or even regularly? And remember, money is a help, yes, but don’t let that be the only thing you do. Our hearts have to be in it too. That may mean we have to sacrifice a bit to help the poor, with money, time, talents. Helping those less fortunate than us may mean we have to give up something we have or want to do. Whatever it may be, though, we cannot ignore the poor — we have to make sacrifices for the Lazarus on our door and cannot stay hidden in our trappings like Dives. For the poor are cherished by the Lord, and he hears them when they cry (cf. Ps 34:6). When we reach the end of our path, that cry will sound out against us if we did not help them, just as it did against Dives when he saw Lazarus in heaven. If we help the poor, on the other hand, we can be assured of the Lord’s help and can even hope, like Lazarus, to be carried to heaven by the angels and welcomed into heaven by those we were able to help in the Name of Christ in this life. For truly when we help someone for the sake of Jesus, we help Jesus Himself, and because of that, by seeking to help the poor in this world, we can hope to hear at the end of our lives those blessed words of Christ: “Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world” (Mt 25:34).

We are not alone on this path. We can and must help each other on the way as we strive to heaven. And so I ask you, how will you help someone to heaven this week?

Fr. A. Francis HGN