26th Sunday 2013
Robert VerEecke, S.J.
Have you heard the story about Oprah and the $38,000 crocodile-skin Tom
Ford-designed bag? The story goes that she was shopping in the upscale area
of Zurich and when she asked to see the bag she was told that she should
look at other less expensive versions of the bag. The implied judgment was
that she couldn’t afford that bag. The incident and the sales person were seen
as racist.
This story was brought to my attention by Fr. Maurice, our resident priest
from Cameroon. He was shocked to think that a bag would cost $38,000 and
that anyone would buy it. As he said to me, “my Bishop could build a school
with that kind of money. The children could have toilets. There is so much
that can be done. Let those people come to Cameroon if they want to see
crocodiles!” (I have since learned that it is indeed the crocodile, a rare
commodity, who determines the price of the bag.)
Are any of you shocked to hear that a bag would sell for $38,000? Maybe
yes. Maybe no. Think of what we spend on houses, cars, vacations, dining
out, smartphones, even a latte at Starbucks. We live in a society where
consumption, “what money will buy”, is often an end in itself. Even if we
are people of moderate means we may be in awe of those who have so much
that they could easily spend $38,000 on a designer bag. Awed yes. Shocked
no.
Have you heard the story about the Rich Man who dressed in fine linen and
feasted every day without noticing the beggar Lazarus at his gates, with his
hunger and his thirst and his sores that the dogs would lick? Of course
you’ve heard it. Just a few minutes ago. But were you shocked and outraged
to hear of the chasm between the anonymous rich man and the named,
Lazarus? Shocked? Outraged? Probably not. You’ve heard the story how
many times?
In Luke’s gospel, this parable, like the ones that come from the lips of Jesus
to our ears, must have shocked his listeners. It must have been like a cool
drink of water in the desert quenching the thirst of those who were beggars
like Lazarus. And the people of money and status, whether Pharisee or
Sadducee or Scribe, must have been outraged to hear Jesus turning the tables
on societal structures, just as he would turn the tables on the money changers
in the temple. They must have been burning with rage at the nerve of Jesus
to say that the Kingdom of God was for the poor. Wasn’t wealth and status a
sign of God’s blessing?
I would imagine you have heard enough homilies on this passage to know
that the rich man is not condemned to torment in flames because he dressed
in fine line and feasted sumptuously every day but because Lazarus
wasn’t… That’s right. Lazarus wasn’t . He was not seen, heard, recognized
as one in need. For the rich man, he didn’t exist. Lazarus was NO ONE.
The rich man was quite satisfied with himself and his world. He did not see
Lazarus at his gates, crying out even for the scraps that fell from the rich
man’s table. The sin of the rich man is not that he has so much but that he
doesn’t see Lazarus as one of the least of his brothers.
You may also have heard in a homily how this passage is Luke’s version of
the story of the sheep and the goats in Matthew’s gospel. There those who
are condemned to the everlasting fires are the ones who did not feed the
hungry or clothe the naked.
Yes, the needs of the poor, the homeless, the hungry, are staggering and we
may want to close our eyes and live our lives in a way that does not stir us to
action. “I can only do so much”. I can’t change the world. I can’t bridge the
chasm between first and third world. I can’t go to Congress and bridge the
great divide between those who sit on one side of the aisle and the other. I
can’t. Or can we? In some ways we can. Our efforts may seem like
“scraps”, leftovers. But sometimes those scraps are enough for the moment.
You can help build a park at St. Anne’s parish in Kingston to improve the
quality of life for children. I would imagine that Fr. Maurice could tell us
countless ways in which we could make a difference in the lives of the
children of Mamfe, Cameroon.
Have you heard the parable of the rich man and Lazarus? Countless times?
But can you make it count? In some way? Can you leave here today paying
attention to the needs of others in a way that could make some small
difference?
Yesterday, while I was reflecting about these scriptures, I went downtown.
Beautiful day. Lots of people dining outdoors. And there was Lazarus.
Sitting in front of Burger King. “Please, I am so hungry,” she cried. More
often than not I would just pass her by and say to myself: not me, not now.
No way. But I had just come from buying a chocolate chip cookie at Finagel
a bagel and I had three dollars in my pocket. How could I possibly pass her
by when I was going to preach about the rich man and Lazarus the next day?
So I reached into my pocket for the 3 dollars and gave it to her. Notice I
didn’t open my wallet and take out a $20. She took the money and said “God
Bless” and went into Wendy’s for something to eat. My only regret is that I
didn’t ask her name.