“‘There was a rich man once, that was clothed in purple and lawn, and feasted sumptuously every day. And there was a beggar, called Lazarus, who lay at his gate, covered with sores, wishing that he could be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table, but none was ready to give them to him; the very dogs came and licked his sores. Time went on; the beggar died, and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s bosom; the rich man died too, and found his grave in hell. And there, in his suffering, he lifted up his eyes, and saw Abraham far off, and Lazarus in his bosom. And there, in his suffering, he lifted up his eyes, and saw Abraham far off, and Lazarus in his bosom. And he said, with a loud cry, Father Abraham, take pity on me; send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue; I am tormented in this flame. But Abraham said, My son, remember that thou didst receive thy good fortune in thy life-time, and Lazarus, no less, his ill fortune; now he is in comfort, thou in torment. And, besides all this, there is a great gulf fixed between us and you, so that there is no passing from our side of it to you, no crossing over to us from yours. Whereupon he said, Then, father, I pray thee send him to my own father’s house; for I have five brethren; let him give these a warning, so that they may not come, in their turn, into this place of suffering. Abraham said to him, They have Moses and the prophets; let them listen to these...'”
Gospel of S. Luke, 16: 19-31 [link]
And therefore the theme of the readings this weekend is the observance of the commandments of God, as signs of personal allegiance to God. The very first words of the Mass in the introit are words of confession of sin, sin which is the result of a negligence with respect to the Law of God. It is interesting, in reading history, to see how we suffer the same problems today as people in every age of men. That’s why I think that the conversations of men and women with God in Scripture (and in the Lives of the Saints, within the tradition of the Church) are sources of perennial wisdom. Look, for example at our first reading that we have from the prophecy of Amos.
“Poor fools, that in Sion or high Samaria take your ease, and fear nothing! That lord it over the Gentiles, and pass proudly through Israel’s domain, bidding us make our way to Chalane, and thence to noble Emath, or go down to Gath, where the Philistines are, and see if land of theirs be fairer, borders of theirs be wider, than these of ours. Poor fools, with the evil day ever at arm’s length, wrong enthroned ever close at hand! Sleep they on beds of ivory, sprawl they at table, eating the best lambs flock can provide, calves fattened at the stall; and ever must harp and voice nicely accord, ay, very Davids they think themselves for musical invention! All their drinking is from the bowl, all their ointment of the best, and what care they for Joseph’s ruin? Lead their folk they shall, but into exile; the revel must break up at last.”
Prophecy of Amos, 6: 1-7 [link]
We shall find here a wealthy elite, enjoying great wealth and the pleasures of life, unconcerned with the theological ruin of the nation. The kingdoms of Israel had been built on a theological vision, that had been given to the people by Moses. They were the people of God, the Chosen People, and their prosperity depended on their fidelity to a covenant with God, and that fidelity was measured by their observance of the commandments of God, and the heart of this observance was personal piety and social justice. Both these should have prevented them from lording over the Gentiles, and concerned them with the fate of their nation, just as it should have led the rich man of the Gospel to lift Lazarus out of the mud.
But we can already see signs of rebellion against this origin of the nation in the very stories of Moses and Aaron, and we can imagine (from our own experience) how the relative peace and the prosperity that the reigns of David and Solomon later ushered in would increase rebellion against God. When we aren’t struggling to get away from Egypt and fight starvation and thirst in the desert, when indeed we have the sufficiencies of life and the securities established by previous generations, we are easily tempted to think that we are sufficient unto ourselves, and that we do not need the Father God’s assistance, much less trouble ourselves with His commandments.
And human beings will be human beings, and inevitably a small number of men end up with most of the available wealth, through ability and through cunning. And, in lording over the Gentiles, they can no longer see very far into the future to see the ruin of their enterprise, and perhaps refuse to. So, God says through Amos the prophet: those in wealth and security in Jerusalem/Sion (and in the equivalent capital of the northern kingdom in Samaria) are enjoying a profligate wealth and are conquered by a short-term security, and cannot foresee the coming destruction of the nation, here represented by the name of the largest tribe, named after the patriarch Joseph of the Genesis stories.
For the prophet, the ruinous Assyrian army is already on the horizon and Samaria will be destroyed. And so, wealth and prosperity and even the absence of war are mere blinders, reducing our vision both in time (so we cannot see the future well) and in space (so we become more selfish, and unable to act in charity). And that takes us over to the gospel story, about the rich man and Lazarus. The rich man is ensconced snugly in his wealth and cannot imagine his dismal future – in Hades – nor can he notice the poor man on the doorstep of his home, and even in his misery in the underworld, he needs it pointed out.
Wealth is not necessarily an evil thing, and money we need for our lives in this world. The trouble arrives when money and wealth becomes ends in themselves, rather than as means to something greater. The rich people of the Amos’ prophecy did not suffer the destruction of their national security and the resulting exile because they were rich, nor even did the rich man of the gospel story merit eternal destruction because of his wealth. And it was not on account of their failures in ritual either that they ultimately suffered, for they likely performed all the was required of them in temple and sacrifice.
But they failed the duties of religion with regard to charity, for in their revelry Amos’ elites ignored the ordinary work of justice towards people in need, possibly even built their material fortunes on defrauding ordinary people. At the very least, as with the rich man of the gospel, they had learned to ignore the poor and distressed. These stories are given us as lessons, and charity is not only about throwing money at various concerns in foreign countries. Charity wants time and personal attention given actively to those who need it, and these are often not much further than the next room in our homes, the next house in our streets, the next street in our villages and towns. For as we all know, charity always begins at home.
Catholic Louth and Mablethorpe 