You never know

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.