Archive for the ‘Rich Man & Lazarus’ Category

Why Five & Five? What Is Our Oil?

November 11, 2023

32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time
By Fr. Victor Feltes

Jesus tells us, “The Kingdom of Heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom.” In those days, the Jewish custom was for a man and woman to get betrothed. This marked the start of their marriage covenant, yet the husband and wife would live separately for the first year. In the meantime, the bridegroom would return to his father’s house and prepare a dwelling place for their life together. Once all was ready, he would joyfully return to bring her to himself. She would be expecting him, but would not know the hour, so she awaited his arrival with her bridesmaids. The bridegroom and his groomsmen would come and escort the bride and her bridesmaids to his father’s house for the consummation of their marriage and seven days of feasting.

This is the cultural context for what Jesus tells us at the Last Supper, as recorded in St. John’s Gospel: “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be.” These Jewish marriage customs also provide the setting for today’s gospel parable about ten virgins awaiting the bridegroom.

Five of them were wise and five of them were foolish, with the foolish ones foregoing flasks of extra oil and, as a result, being shut out of the wedding feast. Jesus Christ called himself the Bridegroom and the Book of Revelation says his saints will enjoy “the wedding feast of the Lamb.” Before unpacking how we can avoid the foolish ones’ fate, consider this question: why five foolish ones and five wise?

Like other storytellers, our Lord theoretically could have crafted his parable’s details differently. Given ten female characters, instead of five foolish and five wise, Jesus could have told a tale about one foolish virgin and nine wise ones, or preached a parable about nine foolish virgins and one wise one, or shaped his story as one of the six other mixtures where some were foolish and some were wise. So why did he say five and five?

Jesus knew that if his parable had featured just one fool beside nine wise virgins, we might presumptuously assume this story’s warning does not apply to us. On the other hand, if Jesus’ parable had featured nine fools and only one wise virgin, we might despair of being among those who enter the feast. Instead, Jesus speaks of five and five so that we will take this parable seriously yet also have confidence that we can take prudent steps to follow the Bridegroom.

What do the five wise and five foolish virgins teach us? What sort of persons were they, and what oil do we require? For an answer, recall another parable of Jesus.

In the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, after a life in which he callously neglected to care for poor Lazarus at his doorstep, a rich man suffers punishment in flames. He calls out to Abraham above: “I beg you, father, send [Lazarus] to my father’s house, for I have five brothers, so that he may warn them, lest they too come to this place of torment!” St. Jerome, the fourth-century Church Father and Doctor of the Church, saw symbolism in this rich man’s five brothers. Jerome sees them as the wicked man’s five bodily senses which were not ordered and dedicated to God. St. Jerome declares to that rich man:

“[Y]ou have five brothers: sight, smell, taste, hearing, and touch. These are the brothers to whom formerly you were enslaved. Since they were the brothers you loved, you could not love your brother Lazarus. Naturally you could not love him as brother, because you loved them. Those brothers have no love for poverty. Your sight, your sense of smell, your taste, and your sense of touch were your brothers. These brothers of yours loved wealth and they had no eye for poverty. … They are the brothers who sent you into these torments.”

God created and bestowed us our bodily senses, and they are good. Through them we sustain our lives, experience one another and this world, and delight in God’s good creations. The goodness of these material things reflect the goodness of their Maker. But it is easy for sinful humanity to become fixated on these delightful things resulting in the distracted neglect or sinful contempt of our Creator.

What is to keep our flame of faith from going out, plunging us into darkness, stopping us from following the Bridegroom? How can we properly order our five senses, and be like the wise virgins rather than the foolish, lest the Lord declare, “Amen, I say to you, I do not know you”? We need oil to keep our lamps faithfully burning and follow Christ in the light. But what is that oil?

In the Old Testament, priests, prophets, and kings were anointed with holy olive oil. Jesus was revealed to be the Christ, the Messiah – titles which mean “Anointed One.” At Jesus’ baptism, St. John the Baptist knew Jesus was the “Anointed One” when he saw the Holy Spirit descend upon him. And then at Nazareth, Jesus proclaimed, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me…” So the Holy Spirit, who descended upon Jesus, our priest, prophet, and king, is like anointing oil. The Holy Spirit is the oil we need for our burning lamps. If we are wise we will invite and welcome this third divine Person to pour out upon us, fill us, and fuel us. He will keep our faith burning and direct our bodily senses so that we may wisely follow Christ our Bridegroom into joy.

“Come Holy Spirit,
fill the hearts of your faithful
& kindle in them the fire of your love.”

Posted in Holy Spirit, Homily, Parables, Rich Man & Lazarus, Sunday Homilies, Ten Virgins, Typology | 3 Comments »

Caring For Our Neighbor

September 25, 2022

26th Sunday of Ordinary Time
By Fr. Chinnappan Pelavendran

The story is told of a Franciscan monk in Australia, who was assigned to be the guide to St. Mother Teresa when she visited New South Wales. The monk was thrilled and excited at being so close to this great woman. He dreamed of how much he would learn from her. But, during her visit, he became frustrated. There were always other people for her to meet. Finally, her tour was over and she was about to fly to her next destination. The Franciscan friar spoke to Mother Teresa: “If I pay my own fare to New Guinea, can I sit next to you on the plane so I can talk to you and learn from you?” Mother Teresa looked at him and said: “Do you have enough money to pay airfare to New Guinea?” He replied eagerly, “Yes!” Mother said, “Give that money to the poor. You will learn more from that than anything I can tell you.”

God speaks to us in many ways and touches our lives but we often fail to listen to him. He speaks to us in gentle ways and guides us in our weaknesses. The readings of today give us the values of the kingdom of God, which is different from all worldly values. It tells us that we, as the children of God, have the obligation and duty to look after our brothers and sisters and care for them. We all belong to the one family of God.

The prophet Amos, in the first reading, gives a powerful warning to those who seek wealth at the expense of the poor: people who spend their time and their money on themselves alone. He prophesies that those rich and self-indulgent people will be punished by God because they don’t care for their poor, suffering brothers and sisters.

In today’s second reading, St. Paul reminds Timothy, who was an ordained priest and consecrated Bishop, of the Faith he had confessed at his Baptism, He reminded him of his obligation to pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness. He reminded him of his ongoing call to bear witness to Christ as a loyal teacher and example of that faith. The message for us is that the generous sharing of our talents and resources is the necessary response to our Christian commitment.

All the parables of our Lord are based on everyday happenings. In today’s gospel, we are tempted to ask the question, “Why was the rich man punished?” He did not kick Lazarus, he was not cruel to him. He was punished because he continued to commit a sin of omission. He never noticed Lazarus as a human being and a brother. He did no wrong, but he did nothing good, either. He neglected the poor beggar at his door by not helping him to treat his illness nor giving him a small house to live in. He totally ignored the poor people around him, which was Cain’s attitude: “Am I the guardian of my brother?” It is not wrong to be rich, but it is wrong not to share our blessings with our brothers and sisters.

Today’s readings teach us an important lesson: it reminds us that all of us will experience God’s justice after our death. We are all rich enough to share our blessings with others. God has blessed each one of us with wealth, health, special talents, social power, political influence, or many other blessings. The parable invites us to share, in various ways, what we have been given, not use everything for selfish gains.

In today’s world, who are the poor we must not neglect? The unborn. We need to treat the unborn as our brother or sister Lazarus of this century. The rich man was condemned for not treating Lazarus as his brother. We also will be condemned for our selfishness if we do not treat the preborn as our brother and sister. We might think: “Who am I to interfere with a woman’s choice to abort?” I am a brother, a sister of that child in the womb. Finally, I am a follower of the One who said, “Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers and sisters, you do to me.”

Posted in Christian Perfection, Homily, Parables, Rich Man & Lazarus, Social Justice, St. Mother Teresa, Sunday Homilies | Leave a Comment »

On Being Man’s Best Friend

September 25, 2022

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time
By Fr. Victor Feltes

In the 1996 film “Independence Day,” we get introduced to a single-mother named Jasmine, played by Vivica Fox. With alien ships hovering ominously above the world’s major cities, she decides to flee Los Angeles. When the aliens begin their attack, Jasmine is stuck in a traffic jam inside a tunnel with her little boy, Dylan, and their handsome pet Labrador Retriever, named Boomer.

A wall of fire rushes from behind, tossing cars into the air before it and incinerating everyone it catches. Jasmine grabs her son and runs between the cars until she spots the door to a maintenance room. She kicks down the locked door and they huddle inside, but their dog has not followed them. Jasmine cries out, “Boomer! Boomer!” And Boomer sprints toward them, jumping over cars, and leaps safely into the side room at the very last second, just as the inferno passes by. Hundreds and hundreds of people are killed in the tunnel, but Boomer survives.

One commenter on a YouTube clip of this movie scene remarked, “I remember when I first saw this scene in the theater. I got all teary-eyed because, ‘YAY the doggy lives!’” Another commenter wrote, “When I saw this at the cinema, everyone cheered at this bit. It was the only part of the movie they cheered at!”

Our culture loves dogs, but Jewish culture was more ambivalent towards them. Scripture does not celebrate dogs as “man’s best friend” like we do today. There are verses pointing to sheepdogs for shepherding or watchdogs for security. And in the Book of Tobit, when young Tobiah leaves home with the angel Raphael, it says “the dog followed Tobiah out and went along with them” on their adventure. However, the mentions of dogs in the Bible are usually negative.

In the Old Testament, for example, Goliath said to David who held a shepherd’s staff, “Am I a dog that you come against me with a stick?” Years later, encountering a different scoffer, one of King David’s soldiers asked, “Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king?” And Psalm 22, which Jesus referenced on his Cross, says, “Dogs surround me; a pack of evildoers closes in on me… [Deliver] my life from the grip of the dog.”

In the New Testament, we see more of this dim view of dogs. Jesus teaches, “Do not give what is holy to dogs.” St. Paul writes, “Beware of the dogs, beware of the evil workers…” And the Book of Revelation, when it describes God’s heavenly city, says, “Outside are the dogs, the sorcerers, the unchaste, the murderers, the idol-worshipers, and all who love and practice deceit.” So where does this biblical disdain for dogs come from?

Realize that in those days, most dogs were not pets but wild. Packs of feral dogs were not only a noisy nuisance but also dangerous. This is reflected in Psalm 59, which describes deadly enemies as “growling like dogs and prowling about the city.” If not killing prey, stray dogs would eat whatever dead flesh they found, of beast or man — “they roam about as scavengers; if they are not filled, they howl.” I mention all of this because of details in today’s parable.

In Jesus’ story, a rich man with expensive, comfortable clothing eats plenty of good food at every meal. But outside of his gate, lying on the ground, is Lazarus, a hungry poor man covered with exposed sores. Jesus tells us Lazarus “would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table.” And Jesus notes that “dogs even used to come [up to Lazarus] and lick his sores.” When the poor man died, he was carried away by angels to a place of peace with Abraham. But when the rich man died he descended to a place of torment, in part, for his failure to care for Lazarus.

Those stray dogs did not attack Lazarus but licked his wounds. Perhaps they were drawn to the salty taste, or maybe they had an instinctual impulse towards him. But in either case they were helping him. Like many other animals, including cats, rodents, and primates, dogs lick their wounds to clean them. And certain chemical compounds found in dogs’ saliva help to disinfect, reduce pain, and promote healing. Letting dogs lick your wounds today is not recommended by doctors today; modern disinfectants and treatments are less likely to result in infection. But in the ancient world, for a beggar on the streets covered with sores like Lazarus, such dog licks would be a blessing.

The parable tells us Lazarus “would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table.” This resembles the remark of the Syrophoenician woman who came to Jesus seeking a miracle for her demon-possessed daughter. Though they were not of the house of Israel, she begged Jesus to help them, saying “Lord, even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Lazarus “would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table,” but the rich man never gave him any. So the rich man treated Lazarus worse than a dog. “Dogs even used to come and lick [Lazarus’] sores.” This means even the despised dogs in the streets treated Lazarus better and helped him more than the rich man ever did.

It’s fine to love dogs. They’re one of God’s good creatures and they reflect his goodness. It’s been said that God created dogs to help show us how he loves us (and that he created cats to show us how we love him). But it sadly seems rather common today for people to care more about the well-being of random dogs than of random strangers. Today’s psalm tells us, “Blessed is he who keeps faith forever, secures justice for the oppressed, [and] gives food to the hungry.” Living in this way makes us more like our Lord ‘who sets captives free, raises up those who are bowed down, and protects strangers,’ and becoming like our Lord is necessary for us to be at home with him in his heavenly city. It’s alright to appreciate our pets, but lest we end up like the rich man in hell let’s make sure we treat and love everyone better than dogs.

Posted in Christian Perfection, Culture, Homily, Love, Mercy, Movies, Parables, Rich Man & Lazarus, Social Justice, Sunday Homilies | 1 Comment »

Christ Was Lifted Up

March 7, 2021

3rd Sunday of Lent

People would pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem from across the known world to worship, often bringing money to purchase oxen, sheep, or doves for sacrifices to God. So vendors had set up shop in the Temple’s outermost court exchanging foreign currencies into Hebrew coins for a percentage fee and selling animals for a healthy profit. God, however, had designated that large, marble-paved court as the Court of the Gentiles where non-Jews (that is, the Gentiles) could come to worship him at his Temple. The Father willed his Temple to be “a house of prayer for all the nations,” but the moneychangers and animal sellers were making it a noisy, smelly “marketplace.” And by charging unlawful interest and demanding excessive prices even of the poor, they were also “making it a den of thieves.”

A place intended to be free for holy worship and communion with God had become unclean, profaned by sin. So Jesus personally comes to Jerusalem at the time of Passover and does something dramatic. He zealously cleanses the Temple, conquering evil, achieving justice, restoring relationship between God and man, drawing people to himself, and indeed sacrificing himself; for when the chief priests and scribes heard of this incident they began seeking a way to put him to death. Their plotting would lead to the Pascal Mystery at the heart of The Apostles’ Creed:

He suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died and was buried,
he descended into hell,
on the third day he rose again from the dead,
he ascended into heaven,
and is seated at the right hand of God the Father Almighty.

Why does Jesus Christ do these things? Because sin had caused the human race to fall far from God and paradise. Suffering, dying, and being barred from Heaven were our human lot. We had become slaves to sin and the Evil One, held hostage against our will. Our offenses against the All-Holy One required an incalculable repayment. And our separation from God had made us doubtful of his goodness and love for us. It was a slavery we could not escape, a debt of justice we could not repay, and a broken relationship we could not heal. But God had a plan to save us. He would aid humanity with his divinity by fashioning a remedy for us out of our weakness and suffering and mortality, that from fallout of our downfall would come the means to our salvation. By his Incarnation, the Son of God enters our sinful world as one of us and by his Pascal Mystery sets us free, cleansing us, for holy worship and communion with God. First, Jesus assumes our nature, and then he offers a perfect sacrifice.

As the Letter to the Hebrews says, since we “share in blood and Flesh, Jesus likewise shared in them, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the Devil, and free those who through fear of death had been subject to slavery all their life.” Jesus said that he came “to give his life as a ransom for many.” And lest it be unclear, St. Paul proclaims that the Lord “gave himself as a ransom for all.” Christ’s death frees the slaves and ransoms the captives, and now saints and angels sing to Jesus, the Lamb of God, in Heaven: “Worthy are you… for you were slain and with your blood you purchased for God those from every tribe and tongue, people and nation.”

To some, the idea of Almighty God dying on a cross seems impossible, unbecoming foolishness. Yet Christ crucified is the power and wisdom of God. “The foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength.” This mysterious, hidden, wisdom, planned by God before the ages for our glory, was not understood by the devil and his demons; “for if they had known it, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.” In sinning God, Adam had handed himself and his descendants into the devil’s clutches, but in crucifying Christ (the sinless New Adam) the serpent overplays his hand and loses big. St. Augustine uses the image of a mousetrap in which Jesus is the bait. The devil takes this bait in putting Jesus on the Cross, but by shedding Christ’s innocent blood the devil is forced to release his claims on those who are joined to Christ. The trap snapped down and crushed the serpent.

Jesus’ sacrifice was also able to pay the incredible debt of human sins before God. All sin is wrong, but consider which sin is worse: to lie to a stranger or to betray a friend; to slap your enemy or to slap your mother? The greater the generous goodness and love that a person has shown us, the greater is the offense of our trespasses against them. So how great a crime then are our sins against God, whose love created us and from whom all good things come? How very great a debt of justice must then be satisfied? Our sins caused a debt no sinner could repay. God had commanded his Old Covenant people to offer animal sacrifices for their sins, the idea being that the creature was dying in the place of the sinner whose sins had merited death. However, as the Letter to the Hebrews says, “it is impossible that the blood of bulls and goats take away sins. For this reason, when [Jesus] came into the world, he said: ‘Sacrifice and offering you did not desire, but a body you prepared for me; holocausts and sin offerings you took no delight in. Then I said, as is written of me in the scroll, “Behold, I come to do your will, O God.”’”

Jesus Christ, God become man, perfectly fulfills the Law, keeping the commandments and doing his Father’s will. He lives for God without sin, honoring his Father and mother, proclaiming the Kingdom of God without idolatry or blasphemy, without murder or adultery, without thievery or lying or coveting, but with abundant love. And in his death, Christ obediently offers the perfect, acceptable sacrifice we were incapable of on our own; a divinely-perfected offering of humanity to God. By his Incarnation, Jesus has in a certain way united himself with every human person, inviting them to become one with him. Through his sacraments, we are more perfectly joined to Jesus to share in his life and enjoy the benefits of what he has accomplished. Christ is the Victor over sin and death, over the tomb and the underworld, over the world and the devil, and he invites us to partake in his victory.

In the beginning, though the Holy Trinity did not desire humanity to sin and fall, our freely-chosen rebellion did not come as a surprise. Before Creation, the eternal, all-knowing Trinity foreknew what it would cost to save us. And God still said Yes, “Let there be light.” Jesus Christ was freely delivered up crucifixion by lawless men according to the set plan and foreknowledge of God, as foreshadowed by the Old Testament Scriptures. But could God, if he had wished, before Creation or in the course of time, have ordained a manner for the Son’s saving sacrifice other than dying upon a Roman Cross? If so, if there were other unchosen options, then the Cross of Christ was chosen as a most effective and compelling sign for us. A less painful, less ignoble, less public, less striking death — if such a death could have saved us — would not speak to us so clearly as a powerful sign of God’s love for us as this. Jesus makes himself so vulnerable and so lowly so as to awaken a response of love in our hearts. He extends his arms on the Cross in hopes that the whole world will be drawn to his embrace. As Jesus said, “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.”

After Jesus died, the Apostles’ Creed says, “he descended into hell.” What are we to make of this? Death is the separation of one’s soul from one’s body. On Holy Saturday, while Jesus’ dead body laid in his sealed tomb keeping a perfect Sabbath rest, Jesus’ soul visited the souls of those in the realm of the dead. Our creed translates this abode of the dead (called “Sheol” in Hebrew or “Hades” in Greek) as “hell” because all souls there, whether righteous or unrighteous, were deprived of the vision of God. But this does not mean that the situations of the Just and Unjust there were identical. Jesus’ Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus describes the afterlife before the gates of Heaven had opened, showing Lazarus comforted in the bosom of Father Abraham while the uncaring, anonymous rich man (whose name is not written in the Book of Life) suffers torment in the flames.

Jesus descends to hell as Savior, proclaiming the Good News to the souls imprisoned there. He does not descend into hell to deliver the damned, nor to destroy the hell of damnation, but to free the souls of the Just. Jesus had said, “Amen, amen, I say to you, the hour is coming and is now here when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live.” By proclaiming the Gospel in the underworld and inviting souls to Heaven, Jesus extends his saving victory to all the faithful people who had preceded him in death.

On the third day he rose again from the dead,
he ascended into heaven,
and is seated at the right hand of God the Father Almighty.

I do not have the time to speak much about these lines this Sunday, but in closing, note what St. Paul beautifully observes about Christ in his Letter to the Philippians:

Though he was in the form of God, Jesus did not deem equality with God something to be grasped at. Rather, he emptied himself and took the form of a slave, Being born in the likeness of men, …it was thus that he humbled himself, obediently accepting even death, death on a cross!

Because of this, God highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every other name, so that at Jesus’ name every knee must bend in the heavens, on the earth, and under the earth, and every tongue proclaim to the glory of God the Father: Jesus Christ is Lord!

Jesus empties himself in his Incarnation, humbles himself in his holy obedience, submits himself to his Passion and death, descends to the depths of the underworld, lower and lower and then Jesus is raised up from there, higher and higher, to life and rewards, glory and honor and power, enthroned at the favored righthand of God the Father. St. Paul says to “have among yourselves the same attitude” as this in your Christian life, for as Jesus teaches, “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

Posted in Adam and Eve, Christian Perfection, Creation, Creed, Hell, Holy Trinity, Homily, Jesus Christ, Justice, Passion, Rich Man & Lazarus, Sacrifice, Salvation History, St. Augustine, Sunday Homilies, Temple Cleansing | 1 Comment »

The Lazarus You Know — 26th Sunday of Ordinary Time—Year C

September 25, 2016

Sunday Readings

Lazarus at the Rich Man's Door

The Lord says though the prophet Amos, “Woe to the complacent,” to those warm and well-fed, comfortable on their couches without concern for others. Indeed, Scripture says, “whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.” (1st John 4:20) You know of Jesus’ concern for the needy. Though he was rich, dwelling in the comfort of the Trinity, our Lord came to earth and became poor for your sake, so that by his poverty you might become rich. (2nd Corinthians 8:9) The rich man in Jesus’ parable could not have been unaware of the man lying at his door. Apparently, the rich man even knew his name: “Father Abraham…  Send Lazarus…” But the rich man came to deeply regret his indifference toward this neighbor.

You know a Lazarus as well. He’s not sleeping on your doorstep, but you probably know his name. He (or she) may be well-known to you or only an acquaintance. Maybe Lazarus goes to your church, or hasn’t come for years. Maybe Lazarus lives just down the street or in a nursing home far away. Your Lazarus is in great need, but probably not for food or shelter.

St. Teresa of Calcutta, who cared for many Lazaruses in India’s slums, said, “The spiritual poverty of the Western World is much greater than the physical poverty of our people.” The poorest of the poor are in our midst. Knowing this, I ask that you to earnestly pray to the Holy Spirit, that He may reveal your personal Lazarus to you, so that you may lovingly attend to that person as Jesus would have you do.

Posted in Homily, Rich Man & Lazarus, St. Mother Teresa, Sunday Homilies | Leave a Comment »

A Game of Monopoly & the Rich Man

March 10, 2015

Lazarus at the Rich Man's DoorGospel: Luke 16:19-31
Thursday, 2nd Week of Lent

    A UC-Berkley psychology professor sets two people down for an experiment: the pair will play a game of Monopoly with modified rules. One player will get the Rolls Royce while the other will be the old shoe. The player with the car will start with $2,000 and play by standard Monopoly rules, while the old shoe’s player gets $1,000, rolls just one die (making doubles impossible,) and collects only $100 for passing “Go.” Who gets which is decided by a fateful coin-flip. At the end of the game, the professor asks the winner (invariably the Rolls Royce player) whether they feel like they deserved to win the game. And the winner always says ‘yes.’

    I can understand the winner’s perspective. At the beginning of the game both players had a fair chance of winning (for either could have ended up with the car,) but the winner won that coin flip, played by the rules, and did what was necessary to arrive at victory. If the winner had cheated the loser, stealing cash or refusing rents, then that victory would feel undeserved.

Abraham, Lazarus, and the Rich Man    The Rich Man who showed no concern for poor Lazarus may have felt like one of those Rolls Royce players. He “dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day,” but nothing in the text indicates that he had defrauded or exploited anyone to obtain his wealth. Maybe he looked at poor people like Lazarus and shrugged, “Some receive what is good in their lifetimes while others receive what is bad,” words that Father Abraham would throw back in his face. Perhaps the Rich Man had not so much perpetrated evils, but rather (ignoring the Scriptures) felt no responsibility to help the less fortunate outside his door.

    May the one who reads this—a winner in the coin-toss of life—not be condemned for failing to give alms.

Posted in Generosity, Homily, Money, Rich Man & Lazarus, Weekday Homilies | Leave a Comment »

Insights Into The Rich Man & Lazarus

September 29, 2013

● The name Lazarus means “one who has been helped.”

● Though presumably well known while he lived, the rich man’s name is never mentioned. St. Augustine says this is because God did not find the rich man’s name written in heaven.

● The rich man has traditionally been given the name “Dives” (the Latin word for “rich.”)

● Purple was the ancient world’s most expensive clothing color; it took 240,000 sea snails and a complex process to produce one ounce of “Royal Purple” dye.

● Being rich, in and of itself, is not a sin; Abraham, David, and Joseph of Arimathea were all rich and friends of God.

● Dives’ sin was his loveless indifference to a person in need he could have easily helped.

● Dives did not use his mammon to win friends like last week’s Gospel teaches.

● Dogs’ saliva has healing properties. In licking Lazarus’ (salty) wounds the dogs did him more good than Dives ever did.

● Dives couldn’t have missed Lazarus lying at his gate. In fact, Dives apparently even knew his name: “Send Lazarus…”

● Even after his condemnation for failing to serve Lazarus, Dives asks that Lazarus serve him; he asks Abraham to send Lazarus to “cool my tongue” and “to my father’s house.”

● St. Peter Chrysologus sees envy behind Dives’ requests: “He does not ask to be led to Lazarus but wants Lazarus to be led to him.”

● St. Augustine speculates that Dives and his brothers used to make fun of the prophets and doubted there was any existence after death.

● Those who do not see that Moses and the prophets speak about Jesus Christ are also unconvinced by Jesus’ rising from the dead.

● St. Jerome suggests that Dives’ five brothers are the five senses he served and loved so much.

● Even after he is condemned, Father Abraham still calls Dives “Son.” St. Ephraim notes that Abraham, who showed strangers kindness & asked mercy for Sodom, was unable to have mercy on one who showed no mercy.

● Abraham represents God, who forgives only the merciful, but who loves even those who are separated from him forever.

Posted in Parables, Rich Man & Lazarus, St. Augustine | 2 Comments »

Rich Man’s Loss — 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time—Year C

September 26, 2010

[The rich man] cried out, “Father Abraham, have pity on me. Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am suffering torment in these flames.”

Why does the rich man suffer in flames? It’s not that Abraham is unaware of him, for when the rich man speaks Abraham answers him. And it’s not that Abraham no longer acknowledges him, for Abraham calls him “my child.” It’s not that Abraham lacks in mercy, for Abraham once intervened to spare a city of sinners. The rich man is not in the flames because of Abraham, or Moses, or the prophets of God, for if he had listened to them he would not be in torment.

So why does the rich man suffer in flames? He suffers because he feasted each day, while Lazarus starved. Because he dressed in fine linen, while Lazarus went naked. Because he was clothed in purple, while Lazarus was covered in purple sores. Yet the rich man is not in the flames because he is rich, for King David was far richer than he and is heralded as a man after God’s own heart. The rich man suffers because the dogs who licked Lazarus’ wounds showed the poor man more kindness than he ever did.

The rich man was not unaware of Lazarus lying at his door, for he had passed him enough times to recognize him when he saw him. The rich man even knew Lazarus by name, for he calls out, “Father Abraham… Send Lazarus…”  The rich man suffers in flames because he did not care about Lazarus. The rich man suffers because he did not love. If we wish to avoid the flames, we should ponder and act on this question: Who is Lazarus in your life?

Posted in Abraham, Hell, Homily, Love, Mercy, Rich Man & Lazarus, St. John the Baptist Parish, Sunday Homilies | Leave a Comment »