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Someone
once told me a story about a building contractor. The follow built
large luxury homes—what he called “estates”—for a publicly-traded home
building corporation.
To increase the
profit on the sale of each estate, the building contractor had no
scruples about cutting corners and using inferior quality building
materials. Considering the kind of house he was constructing and the
price the buyers would pay for it, many might be prone to call his
behavior a “first-class rip off.”
After many years,
the now-successful contractor had become an expert at such deceptive
practices. For example, in the interiors, he ordinarily substituted
½-inch plywood for subfloors rather than required ¾-inch plywood; he
ordered softer-grade wood rather than the hardwood specified for
staircases, baseboards, and moldings; he routinely had tile
subcontractors use second-quality grout for the bathrooms and kitchens
and didn’t have the grouting sealed. The electrical work was of such
poor quality that, although it could barely pass inspection, it did.
Even the electricians joked privately among themselves that the estates
should be classified as “fire hazards.” On the exteriors, the building
contractor had his men use sheets of interior-grade, untreated plywood
rather than exterior-grade, treated plywood. They didn't lay
proper stone and ree-bar foundations for driveways, stoops, walks, and
patios. And, the building contractor ordered landscaping
subcontractors not to remove the debris but to build flower beds and lay
sod right on top of it.
The building
contractor’s last estate was probably the worst and most shameful he
ever constructed. Since he was retiring after the estate was completed,
he could have cared less. After all, he figured, “I’ll be long gone
before any problems are noticed.”
Now, it just so
happened that whenever a long-term employee retired from this
corporation, the CEO would host a lunch or dinner banquet in the
retiree’s honor. Following a sumptuous meal, the CEO would give a
little testimonial. Then, he would present a bonus check equivalent to
one-quarter of the employee’s highest annual earnings. At the
retirement party honoring this building contractor, however, the CEO
wanted to present a very special gift because of the contractor’s many
years of dedication to the corporation’s bottom line.
As tradition
dictated, the CEO called the building contractor to the podium following
the sumptuous meal and read a somewhat lengthy testimonial in which the
CEO extolled the many years of service and numerous contributions the
building contractor had made. The CEO then said: “I want to thank you
for your many years of dedicated service. Without your singular
efforts, our corporation would never have achieved the ambitious goals
we set over the years and we’d never be the nation’s premier home
builder we are today. Our debt is great. It will not be forgotten.
You are not going to retire and leave the corporation unrewarded.”
The CEO then
turned to the building contractor and said: “As a symbol of our
gratitude, let me present to you the keys to the estate you’ve just
built. It’s all yours…with our sincere gratitude!”
As the CEO
presented the keys, we can only guess what must have been running
through the mind of the unscrupulous building contractor as well as all
of those who built the house according to his instructions.
It’s a great
story, isn’t it? The story reiterates what many of us may have
said to others or may ourselves been told: “Some day, you’ll get yours!”
or “What you sow is what you will reap! The idea behind all of this, of
course, is that one day there will be justice. Unlike the
unscrupulous building contractor who was going to get out of Dodge
before his unethical practices would become known, many people believe
that, in the end, God will set everything straight. It’s just gotta be!
While it may be
true that justice does exist and God one day will set everything
straight, many people walk around with an image locked into their minds,
one depicting God as the Just Judge Who is going to punish everyone for
their hidden sins. Even today’s gospel seems to justify the image that
God is up there—somewhere way out there—watching down on everyone. God
is waiting for the Judgment Day when He will weigh everyone’s virtuous
assets against their evil liabilities on the scales of divine justice.
Then, like Donald Trump does each week in the concluding minute of
The Apprentice, God will render the final verdict. Believe it
or not, some people live in mortal fear of that day and, quite
literally, are “scared to death” about what God is going to say or, more
fearsomely, what God will do with them come that day.
But, the story of
Lazarus contradicts the notion that God is the Just Judge, the One who
will mete out each according to his or her due. God doesn’t even appear
in this story, only “Father Abraham” does.
So, what’s
the point?
The whole point
of this story is that God doesn’t punish people for their sins.
No, the fate of the rich man teaches how people punish themselves by
their sins. It isn’t God who judges. No, it is we who judge
ourselves by the choices we make, the direction in life we choose, as
well as the place where we ultimately end up. We punish ourselves by
our sins and we bear responsibility for the consequences of
our sins. I suspect that the reason many people dread the Judgment Day
is because they already know what the verdict will be…in fact, they’ve
already rendered it. “I am the just judge” pretty well sums up the
point.
The rich man
punished himself because he freely chose to become addicted to his
possessions and the good life they afforded him. No one but he made
each decision to pursue his own pleasure, then chose the direction for
his life and, finally, the situation where the rich man was so
absolutely selfish that he didn’t give one whit about anyone else’s
needs, especially as these were evident in the needs of the poor beggar
Lazarus laying at the rich man’s door.
The rich man’s
sin was not in what he did but, more properly speaking, his sin
consisted of what he failed to do. Nowhere does scripture say that the
rich man laughed at Lazarus’ misfortune or poverty. Nowhere does
scripture say that the rich man did anything mean or unkind to Lazarus.
No, because the rich man had grown so blind by his sin—his total
self-absorption and self-centeredness—the rich man was completely
incapable of seeing Lazarus’ dreadful plight. So, the rich man did
absolutely nothing to improve Lazarus’ lot in life.
The image of
Lazarus, of course, is that of an impoverished man who possessed
nothing, not only in terms of worldly goods but also, and especially, in
terms of the basic things human beings need in order to survive.
Television today is replete with images of the suffering and destitute
in Somalia, Sudan, and in Ethiopia. Four hurricanes in five weeks have
had a devastating impact upon many citizens of the State of Florida and,
as always, unevenly upon the poor. Years of terrorism in Peru have
destroyed fledgling communities of poverty-stricken people subsisting in
Andes mountains. And, that’s to say nothing about the many poor living
right here in our very own town. As we all know, Norristown,
Pennsylvania, is home to many, many poor people who lack some of the
basic necessities of life.
It’s is easy to
read today’s gospel and to say that Jesus’ disciples—whom God has been
blessed in so many ways—must share their blessings with those who are
destitute. And, they must. But, it’s an altogether far more difficult
matter for Jesus’ disciples to look at the choices they’re making, the
direction in life they’ve chosen, and the place where they may
ultimately end up to discern whether the judgments they are making
today—right here and now—are the ones they will be happy with for
eternity.
Those reflections
raise for consideration another level that the story of Lazarus’
impoverishment takes us to and we shouldn’t neglect. It’s the level of
the spiritually destitute, those who have made very poor choices, are
headed absolutely in the wrong direction, and may ultimately end up in a
very, very bad place. Many spiritually destitute people have many
material blessings; they may even live in one of the estates constructed
by that unscrupulous building contractor. Cash flow presents no
problems.
But, each of
these spiritually destitute people experiences a gaping hole in their
souls, an empty void that nothing, including all of their comfortable
surroundings and possessions, can fill. And, if you listen very
attentively to the stories of these spiritually destitute people, their
plight really began as they made little choices each day to put their
comfort ahead of others’ needs, as they made their own personal comfort
a priority in their lives and, ultimately, as they grew blind to the
needs of anyone other than themselves.
In many—if not
most—instances, the spiritually destitute now express anger with God,
the Church, its leadership as well as its members, all of whom, the
spiritually destitute complain, are “hypocrites.” In their rage, the
spiritually destitute express hatred for the way God, the Church, and
its members “judge” them. But, in fact, it is the spiritually destitute
who have already judged themselves by their choices, the direction of
their lives, and the place where they’ve now ended up.
Like the
destitute Lazarus at the rich man’s door, the spiritually destitute are
also at our doorsteps. They beg to partake of the hope that faith
nourishes the souls of Jesus’ disciples. They yearn to taste the peace
that comes from those who struggle hard to live as God has called all
people to live.
The question the
story of Lazarus confronts Jesus’ disciples with is whether and how they
are providing for the spiritual and moral needs of the spiritually
destitute as well as the physical needs of those who are suffer from
material poverty. In truth, it’s much easier to see the materially
destitute and to write a check to Catholic Social Services than it is to
see the spiritually destitute and to minister personally to their needs.
As Pope John Paul II said in this regard: “You must also touch the poor
if you are to provide for their needs.” Jesus’ disciples
need clear vision—unimpeded by selfishness—to see, to attend to, to
provide for, and to touch the needs the materially and spiritually poor.
The rich man’s
sin—what he judged himself by—is that he refused to see where he was
leading himself by the choices he was making. Then, blinded by his
material possessions, the rich man placed all of his hope in the good
things of this world. But, the rich man totally missed the fact that
God had blessed him in so many ways, ways that could have and should
have been used to help others who weren’t quite as blessed as the rich
man was. This guy allowed himself to become so accustomed to being
served and noticed by others that this attitude followed him even into
the netherworld, as evidenced when he said: “Father Abraham…send Lazarus
to dip his finger in water and cool my tongue.” Instead of forgetting
about himself, his self-centeredness caused the rich man to become so
spiritually destitute that he forgot about everyone around him except
for those who could serve him…even in the netherworld where he was all
alone but so blind that he didn’t even notice there was no one to serve
him.
This man, rich in
this world’s blessings, was now as materially destitute as he was
spiritually destitute. And so, scripture teaches us, it was the rich
man who judged himself guilty of selfishness and now he suffers the
consequences. The sentence he has rendered upon himself is due to his
own free choices. Now, he will be tormented by isolation and
poverty for all eternity.
In contrast,
Lazarus—whose name means “God is my help”—was materially destitute. He
lived out his days poverty and, the scripture reports, “would gladly
have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table.”
Lazarus had absolutely nothing in this life, if we use material
possessions as the standard of measurement. But, if we use faith as the
standard of measurement, this impoverished man was truly rich because
Lazarus didn’t allow his poverty to become an impediment to trusting in
God. Materially destitute, Lazarus made the choice to trust in God, to
pursue that direction in his life, and so, the scriptures teach us,
despite the suffering brought upon him by his material impoverishment,
Lazarus now enjoys the comfort, the prosperity, and the joy of the
community of the saints in eternal life.
Although the
eternal fate of both men differs, both fates are equally permanent.
The point of this
story isn’t that having possessions, or being wealthy, is a sin. No,
these things are blessings, God’s gifts, entrusted to people for a very
special purpose. Jesus’ disciples fulfill this special purpose, first,
by seeing suffering—the materially and spiritually destitute—of those
who live in their midst. Then, from their many gifts, second, Jesus’
disciples do something to remedy the circumstances that force people to
have to live like Lazarus. One’s personal vocation may not be that of
St. Francis of Assisi or Mother Teresa of Calcutta. But, that doesn’t
mean the God has not called each of us to recognize God’s presence in
the materially and spiritually impoverished who lives intersect with
ours.
This is how the
rich man ultimately judged himself. By not sharing his blessings with
others, it was the rich man, not God, who created the vast abyss
separating where the rich man now finds himself alone in the netherworld
and Lazarus and the community of the saints in eternal bliss.
How we
choose to use the blessings God has entrusted to us will judge the type
of eternity we will spend. Ultimately, we alone bear responsibility for
our choices, the direction we chose, and we make the judgment about
where we will finally end up. As my mother oftentimes said, “Now that
you’ve made your bed, you have to sleep in it, too.”
Perhaps
those who fear the Judgment Day do so because they know what the verdict
will be….in fact, they’ve already rendered it. What Jesus is teaching
his disciples is that the time to undo those wrong choices we’ve made
and the sinful direction in which we are headed is right now…while we
still can see the errors of our ways. |
HOMILY
