Here is the reflection that I shared with those who came to pray with us this weekend. It's based on the parable of Lazarus and the rich man, told in this Sunday's gospel.
Lessons from
Lazarus
I received an email from one
of the teachers at Saint Joseph-Scollard Hall a few weeks back. She wanted to know whether I would share a
bit of my vocation story with the students during the day-long retreat that
they lived at Saint Peter’s on Friday of this past week. There was only one stipulation, it had to be
short – I was given 10 minutes. The
thing about gatherings like that is that you never know who’s listening, and
you never know if the story that is recounted will mesh with the stories of their
lives.
Less than an hour after I had
completed my talk, one of the youth who was present came to knock at the door
of my office. He told me that my talk
had really struck a chord with him. He
told me that his mother and father were separated and that he had had more than
his fair share of challenges as a child.
He had also faced many demons, and only after having come to a certain
peace with these challenges was he able to see life with a renewed clarity. Even as a 14-year-old, this young man has
already seen much more of life than many others his age.
As he spoke, the image of
Lazarus, recounted by Jesus in the gospel today, came to life. Lazarus too had seen much more of life than
many his age. Life had not been as kind
to him as it had been to many others, but sometimes the school of hard knocks
has a way of imparting wisdom. I don’t
believe that my young friend has ever been subjected to the life of begging on
the street, but he certainly knows what it’s like to be turned away by others
who appear to have received many good things in this life, and so his words carry
a different weight because they speak of a truth that has been lived.
How many Lazarus’ are there in
our world today? How many times have we
turned a blind eye to them? Lazarus is
the person on the street corner who holds a tin cup and asks for spare change. Lazarus is the person struggling with
addiction, whether he recognizes it or not.
Lazarus is the child from a broken home who has suffered at the hands of
the ones he thought he trusted the most.
Lazarus is the person next door who lives with a hidden secret which he
dares not speak for fear of being ostracised or judged. Lazarus is you and me in our weakness when we
strip away all the masks behind which we hide.
Then there is the rich man:
the one who dressed in purple and fine
linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. This man too is you and me. This man too is alive and well in our
society, each time that we become too closed in upon our own wants and desires. The truth of the matter is that this man
probably didn’t even realize what he was doing, because he had never known the
sufferings of poverty. When we have been
privileged enough to know great fortune, there is always a risk that we will
become closed in upon ourselves, comfortable in our surroundings, yet Jesus
challenged the Pharisees to go beyond the peripheries of worldly comforts, to
realize that those who suffer in our world have the special gift of being able
to show us the face of a tender, merciful and loving God.
In today’s first reading, the
prophet Amos warns against the danger of becoming too comfortable in our own
surroundings, and Paul cautions Timothy in the second reading to realize that
he is a man of God, called to pursue righteousness,
godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness. In modern-day parlance, Paul would call
Timothy to go beyond the periphery of his own comfort zone, to be brave enough
to recognize those in his midst who struggle because of challenges which are
sometimes unapparent to the naked eye, but which make our brothers and sisters
weak, vulnerable and in need of our help.
Here around the table of the
Eucharist, there is room for everyone, and that’s a good thing because whether
we want to admit it or not, there are traits within all of us which are
portrayed both in the rich man of today’s gospel, and in Lazarus. Before it’s too late, let’s acknowledge this
truth. Let’s dare to be vulnerable
enough with one another to admit our own poverty, and to recognize our
riches. Most of all, let’s ask God to
give us the eyes of mercy that are able to look upon the world, to acknowledge
those who are sitting at our gates and asking for our help, and let’s ask him
for the courage to respond to their calls in love and faith.
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