Most of us are familiar with the comic strip, Garfield, the Cat. So let me see if you can find the commonality between today’s Gospel from Luke and this comic strip with Garfield and Odie the dog.
It was a chilly winter night. Garfield the Cat was sitting in a plush easy chair by the fireplace in a warm home. Garfield looks out the window and sees Odie the Dog.
Garfield thinks to himself, “This is horrible. Here I am sitting in the comfort of this cozy home, and Odie is begging to get in. He is cold and hungry. I can’t stand it. I can’t put up with this any longer.”
In the next frame of the comic, we see Garfield get up, go over to the window and close the curtains.
What is the similarity with today’s gospel? If you ignore it, it will go away.
By the way, this parable is only found in Luke’s Gospel. Don’t confuse this fictional Lazarus of today’s gospel with the real person of Lazarus (brother of Martha and Mary), whom Christ raised from the dead.
I find this parable one of the most disturbing and distressing parables of all the gospels. What is so alarming to me is that the rich man isn’t mean or cruel, nor does he mistreat the poor man, Lazarus. The rich man never orders Lazarus away from the gate. The rich man is simply indifferent and ignores Lazarus. But look where he ends up, in hell.
Luke gives us some contrasting details about each of these men. One was a rich man, and the other was an extremely poor man, a beggar. The rich man was nameless, but the poor man had the name of Lazarus, which means God helps. The rich man was dressed in fine linen, and the poor man was covered with sores that the dogs licked. The rich man lived in a gated community, and the poor man slept daily by the gate. The rich man ate lavishly, and the poor man only wanted scraps or leftovers.
Then both died. Death is the great equalizer. The rich man goes to a place of torment, and the poor man goes to a lasting peace.
I shared this parable with a class of our fourth graders, pointing out how rich the rich man was and how poor the poor man was. I asked the kids, “Which would you rather be, the rich man or the poor man?”
One little boy raised his hand and said, “I’d like to be the rich man when I am alive and the poor man when I’m dead.”
This parable is not about the condemnation of money or wealth. It is about opening our eyes and ears so we can go beyond our own interests, needs and wants.
There are several lessons to be learned from this parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus. The first lesson teaches us the proper use of wealth. The parable does not condemn the man for possessing or having money, but for the manner in which he failed to use his wealth to help the needy. The rich man was blind and deaf to Lazarus; he simply ignored him.
Jesus details an interesting point. It was only in hell that the rich man saw the eyes of Lazarus. On earth, Lazarus was an eyesore to the rich man.
The rich man was deaf. He didn’t listen to the prophets, like Amos in our first reading, who warned the rich about neglecting the poor. As Amos warned: “Woe to the complacent.”
The second lesson to be learned from this parable is easy to miss. The lesson being that there are no second chances when it comes to either an eternal reward or an eternal punishment.
This parable highlights the fact that if the law and the prophets are not sufficient to call the rich to repentance, then even the return of someone from the dead will not melt their hearts.
The conversation between the rich man and Abraham is most interesting. The rich man wants a second chance, but doesn’t even get a drop of water to cool off his personal torment. Then he wants a wake-up call for his five brothers and asks Abraham to send Lazarus as a messenger to warn the rich man’s family. But Abraham refuses. He explains that if one does not heed the warning of the living, the dead will not influence them.
We will always have the poor, and that is why we are continually reminded and warned. You and I have been warned again about closing the curtains, about being compassionately fatigued, about being indifferent to family members or to social injustice, about being blind and deaf to the cries of our neighbors or the poor.
Let me just close with this story.
I was invited for dinner at the home of a parishioner. The youngest daughter wanted me to see her doll collection. So, she led her parents and me down the hall to her room to see the collection.
“Which is your favorite doll?” I asked.
She responded with a question, “Promise not to laugh if I tell you?”
“I promise.”
She picked up the doll that was most worn-out, dirty and with tattered clothes. The doll had a crack in the arm, a missing ear and shredded hair.
“Why is that your favorite doll?” I asked. “Why do you love that one?”
She quickly replied, “Because she needs the most love. If I don’t love her, no one will.”
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