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29 Sep 2013 - Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

ABRAHAM SAID, ‘Child, remember that in your lifetime you got the good things and Lazarus the bad things. It’s not like that here. Here he’s consoled and you’re tormented. Besides, in all these matters there is a huge chasm set between us so that no one can go from us to you even if he wanted to, nor can anyone cross over from you to us.’ “The rich man said, ‘Then let me ask you, Father: Send him to the house of my father where I have five brothers, so he can tell them the score and warn them so they won’t end up here in this place of torment.’ “Abraham answered, ‘They have Moses and the prophets to tell them the score. Let them listen to them.’ “‘I know, Father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but they’re not listening. If someone came back to them from the dead, they would change their ways.’ “Abraham replied, ‘If they won’t listen to Moses and the prophets, they’re not going to be convinced by someone who rises from the dead’ ” (from Luke 16). From A New Message 4 Next Week (actapublications.com/newmessage4nextweek) based on The Message: Catholic/Ecumenical Edition by Eugene Peterson (ACTA Publications, 2013).

lazarus

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Sign & sacrament

29 Sep 2013 - Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

Long-standing images of the fires of hell owe much to the vivid description of the afterlife contained in a gospel story. A rich man (later sometimes named Dives) suffers tormenting flames after death because he ignored poor Lazarus on his doorstep throughout his life. Medieval artists loved to illustrate the story because of its drama and visual potential. But beneath all the fire and brimstone lies a clear and direct message: Living only for one’s own wealth and comfort leads to a living hell. If we hope to rest in the bosom of Abraham, we need to pay attention to the Lazarus waiting at our doorstep.

Wealth lazarus

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Homily themes

29 Sep 2013 - Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

Jesus tells one his great stories to offer a lesson about the dangers of exclusion to those great purists and excluders, the Pharisees. First of all, change of status can be quick and permanent: The rich man goes from a lavish lifestyle to torment in the netherworld, while Lazarus is transported from abject beggar to the bosom of Abraham. But the rich man still doesn’t get it. He’s so spiritually blind that he still thinks Lazarus is his servant, and he shows only a flicker of conscience about warning his brothers, which is impossible anyway. He had his chance. He had the teaching given to Israel to instruct him in the ways of mercy. You are just as blind as the rich man, Jesus is saying to his listeners, and chances are you won’t get the message either, even though the testimony is right in front of your faces. If you can start welcoming the sinner now, however, there may still be hope for you in eternity.

Authors Joel Schorn

lazarus exclusion

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Exploring the word

10 Apr 2011 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A

“O MY PEOPLE, I will open your graves and have you rise from them.” Are more wonderful words to be spoken in all the world? No loss is as great as what death takes from us. No sorrow is as deep as when our loved ones “go before us, marked with the sign of faith.” None of us remains untouched by death for long in this life, and all of us are delivered into its domain in the end. Like Mary falling down in the road before Jesus, we will weep for our losses. Like Martha voicing her indignation to Jesus with clenched fists, we will rage against the dying of the light. And like Lazarus himself we will find our bodily limitations eventually overwhelmed by accident or illness, age, time, and circumstance. We will close our eyes on this world once and for all. Yet God has authority over the grave and can literally wake the dead. Even more: “I have promised, and I will do it, says the Lord.” The same God who rescues a people from slavery, exile, and the darkness of sin vows to remove the sting of death. We will not fail to die, but death won’t have the last word. The grave can’t hold us. We will see the glory of God when the voice of love cries out to us by name: “Come out!” And we’ll be unbound to enjoy the full freedom of the children of God at last—and forever. Let’s be clear: The Lazarus experience is more than a finale at the edge of eternity. Just as Ezekiel foretold that the exiles of Babylon would be freed from the grave of captivity, we can be free of anything that impedes our liberty right now. Are we paralyzed with anxiety about the future; addicted to substances that call all the shots in our days; trapped in relationship dynamics that wound and don’t heal; wrapped in memories of the past that enshroud us in what was and make us unavailable for what could be? God pledges freedom from oppression if we would only “trust in the Lord,” as the psalmist says. But perhaps it’s not weakness and circumstance that contain and constrict us. Maybe it’s the deliberate choices we make, the steps we take daily that encourage our progress on the road to ruin. Sin, too, is a prison from which we must escape, as Saint Paul understood. If Christ is in us, he declares, we are cheerfully dead to sin and can enjoy a vigorous new life in the Spirit. Freedom from fear, from sin, and ultimately, from death? No grave can bind us, no walls contain us, when God holds all the keys. Related scripture links Death as terminal in the Old Testament: 2 Sam. 14:14; Pss. 6:6, 30:10, 88:11, 115:17; Isa. 38:11, 18 Maybe death is not as final as it seems: Pss. 16:9-10, 49:16; Wisd. 3:1-4 Jesus reopens the question of death: Mark 12:27; Matt. 22:32; Luke 20:38 Epistles confirms the futility of death: 1 Cor. 15:26; Rom. 6:9-11; 2 Tim. 1:10; Heb. 2:14-15 Choose life: Deut. 30:19-20 Catechism links Resurrection of the dead: CCC 715; 988-1014 Resurrection of Jesus: CCC 627-628; 640

Authors Alice Camille

lazarus Trust spirit Resurrection choices

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Homily stories

29 Sep 2013 - Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

In a letter dated August of 1865, Jourdon Anderson, an ex-slave living in Ohio, wrote his former master in Tennessee, Col. P. H. Anderson, who, only months after the Civil War had ended, was asking his onetime slave of 32 years to come back and work for him. Jourdon Anderson said he that in the North he was now getting paid regularly, could provide for his family, had his children in school, and was welcomed with his family at church. To even consider leaving his current life, he had a condition: Back pay for the time he and his wife had served their old master. “Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the [slaves] any more than for the horses and cows.” He’s hopeful, he said, that “the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense.” A modern-day Lazarus perhaps, now on the “other side” and looking back at his former master and telling him, “Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.”

Authors Joel Schorn

lazarus

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Homily stories

10 Apr 2011 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A

A mother came up to me with her second-grade son at her side. She told me that he had something he wanted to ask me. He held on to her hand tightly. The words clearly were difficult for him to formulate. After some squirming and hesitating, he finally asked me if he could bury his deceased pet hamster in the soil on the side of the church. I assured him that I could think of no more fitting a resting place for his pet to be buried. He was very relieved. Among all the other benefits and good reasons for a child caring for a pet is that they often do teach a lesson in the reality of death. In our society, death seldom is experienced at home. We try to make it more palatable with wakes and memorial services. But it remains an unknown reality for many of us. And we tend to fear what we do not know. Witness how often the word death is used in titles of movies or books created to frighten us. Death was much more visible in Jesus' time. Warm climates meant the necessity of quick burials. There is a finality about it. That is, until Jesus comes and rolls back the stone and calls his friend Lazarus out. After that moment, we realize death will never have the same hold over us.

Authors Father Dominic Grassi

pet lazarus wakes fear

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Exploring the word

25 Sep 2016 - Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

“Charity begins at home,” the saying goes. That’s also where it ends, for folks who draw the circle of responsibility with a short radius. Some of us terminate our locus of concern at the nuclear family unit, a definition of belonging that’s only been around since the early 20th century. Others may extend it briefly to include elder relatives or close personal friends. For those with a cultivated sense of community, generosity might be extended through the neighborhood, parish, village, or tribe. However we define who belongs to us, it’s clear most of us perceive some boundary beyond which our consideration or largesse is not required. In this regard, the rich man at his sumptuous dinner didn’t owe poor Lazarus a thing. By Jewish law, it was Lazarus’ own relatives who should have been seeing to the needs of this misfortunate fellow. Lazarus was like that homeless person rattling his Styrofoam cup at us for our spare change. Weren’t there agencies to which he could appeal? Or like that bloated child in the magazine photos: Her own government should do better by her, not ours. Those refugees streaming across Europe may well be victims of bad politics, warfare, economic mismanagement, or bigotry. Maybe all of the above. But how does any of that imply that their dire plight is ours to solve? Most of us find ways like these to wash our hands of the suffering that lies beyond our realm of perceived responsibility. The rich man in the story is no different. His lovely suppers were never disturbed by the thought, perhaps even the sight, of sore-infested Lazarus at his door. Maybe the rich man’s radius of owned responsibility was shorter than yours or mine, but truncated compassion is only a matter of degree. All too soon, the rich man will learn to his dismay that Father Abraham is Lazarus’ father too. How far is our love and compassion obliged to go? More to the point: How far is our obligation to do something about human suffering expected to go? If God’s expectations are the ones that concern us, then the answer is quite far indeed. Someone once asked Jesus: “Who is my neighbor?” The response wasn’t comforting: essentially, everyone, including my enemy. Our instinctive defense mechanism against the cruelties of life is to construct fail-safe walls of moral culpability and to disappear behind them. Jesus takes down those walls brick by brick with teachings about loving enemies, blessing those who curse us, returning good for evil and forgiveness for injury. When Jesus forgives his murderers from the cross, there’s nowhere to hide from the truth: We can’t wash our hands of anyone. Charity may begin at home, but it can’t stay there. Related scripture links Theological virtues: 1 Cor. 13:13 Are we saved by faith or works?: James 2:14-26 Charity as divine attribute: 1 John 4:7-12 Took on human likeness: Phil. 2:5-11 Catechism links Charity: CCC 736; 864; 1812-1813; 1822-1829; 1832; 1889; 2055; 2831

Authors Alice Camille

Charity who is my neighbor human suffering lazarus

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In other words

25 Sep 2016 - Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

“There once was a rich man, expensively dressed in the latest fashions, wasting his days in conspicuous consumption. A poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, had been dumped on his doorstep. All he lived for was to get a meal from scraps off the rich man’s table. His best friends were the dogs who came and licked his sores. “Then he died, this poor man, and was taken up by the angels to the lap of Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In hell and in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham in the distance and Lazarus in his lap. He called out, ‘Father Abraham, mercy! Have mercy! Send Lazarus to dip his finger in water to cool my tongue. I’m in agony in this fire.’ “But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that in your lifetime you got the good things and Lazarus the bad things. It’s not like that here. Here he’s consoled and you’re tormented. Besides, in all these matters there is a huge chasm set between us so that no one can go from us to you even if he wanted to, nor can anyone cross over from you to us.’ “The rich man said, ‘Then let me ask you, Father: Send him to the house of my father where I have five brothers, so he can tell them the score and warn them so they won’t end up here in this place of torment.’“ Abraham answered, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets to tell them the score. Let them listen to them.’ “ ‘I know, Father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but they’re not listening. If someone came back to them from the dead, they would change their ways.’ “Abraham replied, ‘If they won’t listen to Moses and the Prophets, they’re not going to be convinced by someone who rises from the dead' ” (from Luke 16). From A New Message 4 Next Week (actapublications.com) based on The Message: Catholic/Ecumenical Edition by Eugene Peterson (ACTA Publications, 2013).

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In other words

02 Apr 2017 - Fifth Sunday of Lent, Cycle A

A man was sick, Lazarus of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha. This was the same Mary who massaged the Lord’s feet with aromatic oils and then wiped them with her hair. It was her brother Lazarus who was sick. So the sisters sent word to Jesus, “Master, the one you love so very much is sick.” When Jesus got the message, he said, “This sickness is not fatal. It will become an occasion to show God’s glory by glorifying God’s Son.” Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, but oddly, when he heard that Lazarus was sick, he stayed on where he was for two more days. After the two days, he said to his disciples, “Let’s go back to Judea.” They said, “Rabbi, you can’t do that. The Jews are out to kill you, and you’re going back?” Jesus replied, “Are there not 12 hours of daylight? Anyone who walks in daylight doesn’t stumble because there’s plenty of light from the sun. Walking at night, he might very well stumble because he can’t see where he’s going.” He said these things, and then announced, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep. I’m going to wake him up.” The disciples said, “Master, if he’s gone to sleep, he’ll get a good rest and wake up feeling fine.” Jesus was talking about death, while his disciples thought he was talking about taking a nap. Then Jesus became explicit: “Lazarus died. And I am glad for your sakes that I wasn’t there. You’re about to be given new grounds for believing. Now let’s go to him.” That’s when Thomas, the one called the Twin, said to his companions, “Come along. We might as well die with him.” When Jesus finally got there, he found Lazarus already four days dead. Bethany was near Jerusalem, only a couple of miles away, and many of the Jews were visiting Martha and Mary, sympathizing with them over their brother. Martha heard Jesus was coming and went out to meet him. Mary remained in the house. Martha said, “Master, if you’d been here, my brother wouldn’t have died. Even now, I know that whatever you ask God he will give you.” Jesus said, “Your brother will be raised up.” Martha replied, “I know that he will be raised up in the resurrection at the end of time.” “You don’t have to wait for the End. I am, right now, Resurrection and Life. The one who believes in me, even though he or she dies, will live. And everyone who lives believing in me does not ultimately die at all. Do you believe this?” “Yes, Master. All along I have believed that you are the Messiah, the Son of God who comes into the world.” After saying this, she went to her sister Mary and whispered in her ear, “The Teacher is here and is asking for you.” The moment she heard that, she jumped up and ran out to him. Jesus had not yet entered the town but was still at the place where Martha had met him. When her sympathizing Jewish friends saw Mary run off, they followed her, thinking she was on her way to the tomb to weep there. Mary came to where Jesus was waiting and fell at his feet, saying, “Master, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her sobbing and the Jews with her sobbing, a deep anger welled up within him. He said, “Where did you put him?” “Master, come and see,” they said. Now Jesus wept. The Jews said, “Look how deeply he loved him.” Others among them said, “Well, if he loved him so much, why didn’t he do something to keep him from dying? After all, he opened the eyes of a blind man.” Then Jesus, the anger again welling up within him, arrived at the tomb. It was a simple cave in the hillside with a slab of stone laid against it. Jesus said, “Remove the stone.” The sister of the dead man, Martha, said, “Master, by this time there’s a stench. He’s been dead four days!” Jesus looked her in the eye. “Didn’t I tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” Then, to the others, “Go ahead, take away the stone.” They removed the stone. Jesus raised his eyes to heaven and prayed, “Father, I’m grateful that you have listened to me. I know you always do listen, but on account of this crowd standing here I’ve spoken so that they might believe that you sent me.” Then he shouted, “Lazarus, come out!” And he came out, a cadaver, wrapped from head to toe, and with a kerchief over his face. Jesus told them, “Unwrap him and let him loose.” That was a turnaround for many of the Jews who were with Mary. They saw what Jesus did, and believed in him (from John 11). From A New Message 4 Next Week (actapublications.com) based on The Message: Catholic/Ecumenical Edition by Eugene Peterson (ACTA Publications, 2013).

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Exploring the word

29 Sep 2019 - Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle C

The injustice of the world is an inescapable reality. Inescapable, that is, if you are on the nasty side of the equation as one of the have-nots. Those who do not experience the downside of injustice are often not aware that there is a problem, because it’s not a problem for them. Such people are more likely to think the world is basically pretty fair, that people get what they deserve, that justice is more or less served for those who work hard and keep their noses clean. But for those who start out with little or wind up with less, the inherent injustice of the worldly system is pretty obvious. Being born into poverty, a broken family, or a war-torn community provides a whole different perspective that is tough to climb out of, especially when your ladder is composed of a failing school system, a crime-ridden neighborhood, and a nutrition deficit. Try adding in other factors like illness, physical or mental disability, and variables like IQ and natural ability—which are not evenly distributed—and you begin to realize that the chances of us ever living in a just world are seriously doubtful. Injustice is the great chasm that divides our world and creates the impetus for many of society’s most enduring problems. War won’t cease, crime won’t disappear, and violence won’t end so long as some folks have what other folks want. And if we think death is the great and final leveler, guess again. The enduring legacy of sin Even the reign of God doesn’t wipe the legacy of sin off the scales completely. Jesus assures us that, in fact, the coming of the Kingdom reverses the balance so that what was up must come down, and vice versa. We are often told that the last will be first and the first last; the poor will have good things and the rich will go away empty; the blind will see and the lame dance; the barren woman will conceive while the mother of many languishes. Tax collectors and prostitutes will enter, and religious folk will find the way barred. The imbalance of the present world will not be dismissed, but only upended. This one oft-repeated truth about the Kingdom should make most of us who hear it very, very afraid. But it was all too easy for those who reclined on beds of ivory in the days of Amos to ignore his warning about complacency, and it was just as easy for the rich man in the parable to overlook suffering Lazarus at his door. It is not surprising that good, churchgoing folk like ourselves assume this whole conversation is intended for someone else, someone who is clearly doing bad things that merit punishment by the proper authorities. And we further presume that such authorities are already marshaled to hunt these evildoers down. “Inevitable” inequality Besides, won’t there be poor always? That’s what Jesus said, and we are tempted to accept his social commentary as an indictment on the lower classes. For we are quite sure that giving pocket change to a homeless man in front of the liquor store isn’t going to transform his fate, and most organized social programs fail to effect meaningful differences. Most of our charity is siphoned off into the wrong hands anyway, we suspect, and the bottom line for many of us is: Why should we give our money away when we earned it? Shouldn’t there be some relationship between hard work and a fat wallet? Why shouldn’t I have a nice life after everything I’ve done and, to be honest, why should I be responsible for someone else who maybe hasn’t shown the same effort? This is quite simply the righteous mindset of capitalism, and it makes a lot of sense. The fact that Christianity and capitalism are two dramatically different systems has failed to register on we who count ourselves as recipients of both ideologies. Jesus didn’t have to address capitalists per se but he did have a lot to say for the practitioners of blessing theology (you can tell a righteous fellow by the blessings God has given him) and those who believed that sinners are born to suffer (see the story of the man born blind). The distinctions between capitalists and adherents to these two views are often slight. Of course, no homilist in his right mind wants to get up and challenge what is arguably the most profitable economic system in the world. It’s just a pity that the gospel leaves us few honorable alternatives. Applying the word Citizenship in two kingdoms Dorothy Day dealt daily with some of the most unlovable and culpable members of her society. Yet she stressed often to her Catholic Worker community that Christians cannot afford to “adjudicate between the deserving and undeserving poor.” As soon as we begin to distinguish between worthy and unworthy persons, we have crossed the demarcation between Christianity and culture. So long as we remain citizens of two kingdoms, temporal and spiritual, we are forced to acknowledge that our two allegiances are in considerable conflict. We just can’t be spotless capitalists and good Christians. Sooner or later, we are going to have to establish our ultimate loyalty to one camp or the other. If we choose Jesus, and I hope many of us do, that means we have to stop questioning if Lazarus at the gate is an alcoholic or an addict; if he dropped out of school or got his girlfriend pregnant; if he refuses to work because he’s lazy or up to no good; in short, we have to refrain from deciding whether or not he is worthy of our concern. The only reason to open our hearts and share our resources with those in need is because Jesus asked us to. One day, we are assured, the last will be first. It would be good if they remembered us kindly when the chasm is reversed. Related scripture links The first and the last: Matt. 19:30, 20:16, 27; Mark 9:35; Luke 9:48 The poor will have good things: Luke 1:46-55, 4:18-19, 6:20-23 The blind see: Matt. 11:4-5 Surprises in the Kingdom: Matt. 7:13-14, 9:13, 21:31-32, 25:31-45 Are sinners born to suffer?: John 9:1-40

Authors Alice Camille

injustices have-nots inequality capitalism lazarus

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