Lazarus Could Not Help the Rich Man: Homily for the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time

 

Am 6:1a, 4-7

Ps 146

1 Tm 6:11-16

Lk 16:19-31

 

Amos’ warning is harsh.  His description of the people is contemporary.

“Woe to the complacent of Zion . . .

Lying upon beds of ivory they eat lamb taken from the flock

they anoint themselves with the best oils . . . “

 

Today, Amos would most likely write,

“Woe to the self-obsessed slouched in front of their big screen TVs.

They eat fast food taken from a bag,

wear too much perfume, and inject Botox.”

 

Amos repeatedly stressed social and political ills in general terms that allows him to be read in the context of our own time.  There are social and political ills in every country that cause and contribute to a variety of personal ills.  Individual sin drives social sin and social sin allows individuals more creative opportunities for individual sin.  How much of our current economic situation is maintained by a greed that is both corporate and individual?  “Therefore now they shall go into exile and their wanton revelry shall be done away with.”  Sounds a bit like bankruptcy court.

 

It is a pity that the reading from Paul’s Letter to Timothy didn’t begin with verse 10 rather than verse 11.  Verse 10 includes the well-known observation, “For the love of money is the root of all evils; it is through their craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced their hearts with many pangs.”  Then we hear Paul’s instruction to Timothy in its proper context, “But as for you . . . .

pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness.”

 

It is fascinating that the line  "For the love of money is the root of all evils," is generally misquoted as  "Money is the root of all evil."  The two statements do not mean the same thing. 

 

Money itself is not the root of all evil. Money was a necessity in the ancient world.

It remains a necessity in the modern world.  However, an insatiable drive to obtain more and more of it, a life spent loving, adoring, and worshipping money is the root of much of the world’s evil.  

 

The Gospel parable is sometimes referred to as Dives and Lazarus.  It unique to Luke’s gospel.  The names are important though only one of them appears in the Gospel. 

 

The name Lazarus comes from the Hebrew El azar which means “God has helped.”  “When the poor man died he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham.”  God had indeed helped. Tradition gave the rich man the name Dives.  Dives is a Latin adjective for rich.  Thus Dives and Lazarus, The Rich Man and the One God has helped.

 

The first part of the parable describes a reversal of fortune which tells us that  upon his death Lazarus, the beggar, was carried to Abraham’s bosom whereas Dives, who had the most toys when he died, was tormented in the netherworld.

The second half of the parable is a conversation between Dives and Abraham.  Dives is not portrayed as a bad man. He is neither wicked or malevolent. True, he dressed well, ate a fine diet, and lived comfortably, enjoying the rewards of his hard work. But he was not evil.  He was  oblivious.  He was oblivious to the suffering around him.  He didn’t notice it.

 

Lazarus—like the poor in our streets today—was merely a part of the landscape

that was passed by, stepped over, or avoided by crossing the street. Dives did not appear to bear him any ill-will. He was not hostile.  He did not shoo him away.

Lazarus was there but invisible to Dives and the rest of his household.

 

Dives is not without merit.  He accepted that Lazarus could not cross the chasm

to ease his thirst. He didn't protest. He didn't whine. He didn't argue. He didn't plead.  But he wanted to prevent his equally oblivious and blind brothers from suffering the same fate. It couldn't be done. If his brothers wouldn't listen to Moses and the prophets, they would not be persuaded even if someone rose from the dead.

 

Like Dives and his brothers we have Moses and the Prophets. Unlike this rich man and his brothers we also have Jesus who suffered, died and rose from the dead to save us from sin.

 

Why do we not listen to Him either?  

 

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The photos are from Ljubljana.  When I have the choice I prever black and white to color, with the exception of autumn in New England.  It is easier to enhance contrast, darken shadows, and increase the brightness of light.   

A woman pushing her bicycle while carrying an artist's canvas case.  This was a very short distance from the community. 

A man on some version of a paddle board in the Ljubljanica River.  The color version of this is lovely as it was october and the leaves were changing  and reflecting in the ripples.  

The couple who had take over the table my buddy Andrius, a med students, had just abandoned atop Nebotičnek on the day of the Ljubljana Marathon.  One of those perfect days that lives forever in memory.  And I have the photos to prove it. 

Taken on a miserable December night.  Not far from the house but within minutes of going out my fingers were hurting from the damp cold.  I sometimes think this should be on the cover of a murder mystery. 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD
 

mammon is NOT a proper name: Homily for the 25th Sunday of Ordinary Time

 

Am 8:4-7

Ps 113

1 Tm 2:1-8

Lk 16:1-13

 

The parable of the dishonest steward is a challenge to scripture scholars, preachers, and all those  who hear this gospel proclaimed at Mass. It seems to fly in the face of the dishonesty that God will not forget as described in the first reading.

 

After being summoned for squandering and mismanaging his master’s resources, but before being fired, the steward quickly forgave portions of the debts owed to the master.  By doing so he assured that those who owed the master would be grateful to the soon-to-be-ex-steward when he was unemployed.  A shrewd quid pro quo.  He would be a very successful politician in the U.S. today, especially where Big Pharma is concerned. 

 

The confusion begins when we ask if Jesus is condoning dishonesty when he says, “And the master commended that dishonest steward for acting prudently.” He is not condoning dishonesty. He is making an observation on human nature, a nature that hasn't changed or improved in millennia,  a nature that is unlikely to change or improve over the next several millennia, assuming humans last that long.  But there is something to admire in the cleverness of the dishonest steward’s scheme, a cleverness that did not pass unnoticed by Jesus.

 

Like the despised Ancient Near East tax-collectors stewards would bill more than the individual owed to the master.  They would keep the overbilled amount for themselves,

not unlike the dishonesty described in the first reading.  Merchants would overcharge

or reduce the amount of product despite maintaining the same price. Things haven’t changed.  Once again, the relationship to today’s Big Pharma cannot help but  be noticed

 

I stumbled across a cartoon on FB that is a good illustration of the technique: “I paid a dollar for a bag of air. The seller kindly included a few potato chips with it.”  But, the reality isn’t always amusing when we see the leap that medications prices have undergone that coincides with the appallingly expensive TV commercials shilling Jardiance or even medications for diseases that are considered rare such as myasthenia gravis.

 

When the steward instructed those who owed the master to reduce the amount on the promissory note he was changing the bill to reflect what they actually owed without his take added on.  He wasn’t going to get his take through the usual channels so he was now putting those he had been ripping off into his debt, making himself appear noble and worthy of their gratitude in their eyes when, in fact, he was being even more dishonest.  Truly a skilled politician.  “No servant can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.”

 

Only in theology school did I learn that mammon is not a proper name, it is not capitalized, is not a synonym for Satan, and does not necessarily mean money. Mammon derives from ancient Chaldean with its root in the word for confidence or trust.  Thus we can ask, “In what do you have confidence?” “Where do  you place your trust?” Do you serve and trust God—capital G or god—small g.  The small g god may be money, power, prestige, drugs, alcohol, one’s own self, or any of a number of other idols. 

 

We cannot serve the true God and any of a number of false gods of our own choosing simultaneously.  The choice is black and white.  The stakes are high when one considers that the price is the loss of our own selves.  

 

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Walden Pond is nearby depending on the traffic.  I did not take these this weekend but on a visit a few years ago. 

 

Swimming and rowing boats are permitted but nothing with a motor.  The jet ski is the spawn of satan if not satanic itself.  

A reasonably wide-angle shot.  

I enjoy taking shots that can be turned into black and white silhouettes

A heron taking flight

A much better way to spend time than computer games

Triggered a lot of nostalgia for fishing with my dad. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

 

 

 

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

 

Nm 21:4b-9

Ps 78

Phil 2:6-11

Jn 3:13-17

 

“We adore Thee O Christ

and we bless Thee,

Because by Thy Holy Cross

Thou hast redeemed the world.” 

 

It is always a surprise when no one reflexively genuflects at hearing the antiphon that introduces each of the Stations of the Cross.  It has a potentially Pavlovian effect on anyone who attended parochial school prior to Vatican II.  Friday afternoon Stations during Lent were a way of life.  The implications of the antiphon were certainly lost on the 200 or so kids at St. Mary’s Grade School in Plymouth, PA.  But, in a mere nineteen words we have a brief Catechism of the Catholic Faith.  The antiphon exposes the infrastructure of our lives. 

 

Thus, this ancient feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross—sometimes known as the Triumph of the Holy Cross—is one of the rare feasts that trumps the regular Sunday liturgy on what would have been the 24^th Sunday of Ordinary Time.  The readings for the feast are familiar.  They present such a profusion of riches that there is no reason any priest should repeat the same homily for this feast more often than every five or six years.   

 

The description of Moses lifting up a bronze serpent on a pole stands out in the Torah for its incongruity with everything that went before it.  This was a people for whom graven images were forbidden, for whom worshipping the golden calf brought down Moses’ wrath at Sinai.  But here, the image of a serpent on a pole reversed the punishment which the Lord had sent on the people just as they were preparing to enter the Promised Land. 

 

I’m not sure what to make of it. 

 

The Jewish Study Bible hastily notes that, “Rabbinic interpreters were disturbed by the magical nature of this cure, and suggested that it was the glance of the afflicted to their father in heaven, rather than the snake, which effected the cure.”  

 

I cannot hear or read these verses without automatically thinking of the staff of Aesculapius which is the actual symbol of medicine as opposed to the double-winged caduceus that is the symbol of the U.S. Army Medical corps. 

 

The easiest read of these verses is that they prefigured Jesus’ crucifixion.  John’s Gospel certainly makes that point easy to see.  “And just as Moses  lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up,so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.”

 

With that in mind we can only stand at the foot of the Cross and say;

 

“We adore Thee O Christ

and we Bless Thee,

Because by Thy Holy Cross

Thou hast redeemed the world.”

 

Last night, as we do every Saturday evening when praying the breviary, we said the canticle from Philippians, the second reading, with its own Pavlovian effect.  I suspect more than one or two here can, upon hearing: “Though he was in the form of God . . .” continue on from memory.  As is the case when proclaiming the Magnificat from the pulpit, there is always the risk of continuing on to the Doxology: Glory to the Father, and to the Son . . .  after the concluding words of this canticle. 

 

The Cross was a punishment reserved for slaves.  It was the most shameful of all means of execution.   But, through Jesus’ humble willingness it became, and remains, the living sign of salvation. 

 

Unpacking the few verses of John that make up today’s Gospel could take us right through to supper.  “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.”

 

This verse is a mine field for preachers, and a stumbling block for many who confront their own deaths or the death of a loved one. 

 

Father Marrow points out, and indeed he never failed to emphasize, that

“What the gospel of John proclaims as the purpose of the coming of the only Son into the world is “eternal life” not exemption from dying, and certainly not immortality, but the overthrow of the power of death itself.  This the evangelist calls “eternal life.” Thus, to redeem the world is to deliver all those subject to death from it not by exempting them from dying, but by granting them life eternal.

 

Some time this evening make what Jesuits call the Triple Colloquy from the Spiritual Exercises as described by Ignatius, “Imagine Christ our Lord present before you upon the cross, and begin to speak with him, asking how it is that though He is the Creator, He has stooped to become man,and to pass from eternal life to death here in time, that thus He might die for our sins.” 

 

And then ask yourself: “What have I done for Christ? What am I doing for Christ?

What ought I to do for Christ?”

 

And then repeat.

 

“We adore Thee O Christ

and we Bless Thee,

because by Thy Holy Cross

Thou hast redeemed the world.”

 

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 Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

Homily for the 24th Anniversary of 9/11/2001

 

The memories are grim.  Some are communal and shareable. Others are highly personal and difficult to share without weeping.  A few are impossible to articulate.  Every anniversary carries its own weight and meaning.  Every anniversary is experienced uniquely. The first was quite different from the tenth and was different from today’s 24th.  No one can predict what next year’s milestone 25^th will be like. 

 

Today, there is an entire generation that was still in the womb in September 2001. Many are students here and in every university in the U.S.  They are adults but have no first-hand memories.  Meanwhile, a significant portion of those whose recollections contributed to the communal memory have died. 

 

Twenty-four years ago yesterday, we woke on the day before the morning of

though we didn't know it.  The only ones who did were the al-Qaeda terrorists who were busy making the final checks on their coordinated plan of mass murder and their own suicides. 

 

Twenty-four years ago last night we went to bed as usual.  Some drifted off into deep sleep while others tossed and turned with worry about family, finances, or the weather forecast.

 

Twenty-four years ago last night the great silence descended on monasteries

throughout the world as the Church ended compline with the chanting of the Salve Regina.

 

Salve Regina, Mater Misericordiae

 

"Hail Holy Queen, Mother of Mercy

Our life, our sweetness, and our hope. . . . "

 

The killers knew it would be their last night alive.  None of their victims knew

that when they woke they would see their last sunrise,  they would kiss their children for the final time. Some would receive the Body and Blood of Our Lord in what would be their last communion.

 

When we woke on September 11, 2001 some of us felt refreshed and eager for the day to begin. Others wanted another hour or six of sleep.  It was time to brush the teeth, shower, and have the first few cups of coffee.  At 8:45 AM EDT we were on the way to work or already at school. 

 

Some went for a morning run.  Others walked the dog.  Routine daily tasks had to be done.  Perhaps it was garbage day.  Perhaps it was the first day on a new job.  The sixty seconds between 8:45 and 8:46 marked the last minute of life as we had known it up to then.

 

Everything changed at 8:46 EDT when American Airlines flight 11 crashed into the North tower of the World Trade Center.

 

United Airlines flight 175 crashed into the South tower at 9:13 EDT.

 

American Airlines flight 77 struck the west side of the Pentagon at 9:37 EDT.

 

United Airlines flight 93, from Newark, NJ to San Francisco was hijacked by Ziad Jarrah who had trained as a pilot here in the U.S.

 

His attempt to divert the plane toward D.C. aiming for the White House or the Capitol was foiled after a struggle with pilots, flight staff, and passengers.

Jarrah and his confederates intentionally crashed the plane in an empty field

near Shanksville, PA at 10:03 EDT.

 

The attacks were over. 

 

Twenty-four years ago tonight few of us slept.  For those who did, sleep was troubled, non-restoring, and interrupted by nightmares or tears.  The silence was deafening. Our lives were irrevocably changed. They would never return to what they had been. 

 

Twenty-four years ago tomorrow September 12 was the first full day after the attack. The true horror was still sinking in as the numbers of the dead ticked upward every several hours.  Stories of heroism and self-sacrifice were partial antidotes to despair. 

 

Today, twenty-four years later, those of us who lived through what has come to be called 9/11 still wonder, grieve, and weep.  And, as we have for the past years, we pray for the victims' families and loved ones.  We pray for ourselves.  Most especially we pray for those who were killed by radical terrorists.

 

Requiem aeternam                                  

dona eis, Domine,

et lux perpetua luceat eis.

Requiescant in pace.

 

"Eternal rest

grant unto them O Lord,

and let perpetual light shine upon them.

May they rest in peace."

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Crucifix in the family chapel of the Charterhouse of the Transfiguration in Vermont.

 

 

Head of the Crucified Christ in the Charterhouse in Pleterje, Slovenia

 

 

 

 

 Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

What Does It Cost? Homily for the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

 

Wis 9:13-18b

Ps 90:3-6; 12-17

Phmn 9-10, 12-17

Lk 14:25-33

 

A few years ago I giggled while reading a newspaper story in which the headline trumpeted the scientist Richard Hawking's declaration: "God not necessary to create the universe."  I giggled because  of the corollary that popped into my head: "Richard Hawking not necessary to explain God."  And then I remembered an old graffito and broke into a laugh. The graffito read:

 

“God is dead.  Nietzsche”

And below it . . . .

“Nietzsche is dead.  God”

 

Humans are fallible unknowing creatures who struggle to make sense out of the world. no matter if they are brilliant scientists like Hawking or if they are illiterate. They ask the same questions though the wording is different.  Any answers are tentative and always in need of revision,  depending on more factors than can be listed.

 

The first verse of the reading from Wisdom is key to understanding the dilemma of being human. “Who can know God’s counsel or who can conceive what the Lord intends?”  That verse should be inscribed over the entrance to every church, theology school, and seminary in the world.  It should be inscribed on our hearts.  Perhaps recalling that question would temper some of the theological-scriptural-sociological-psychological arrogance of preachers and theologians as well as the merely observant. It might tamp down the smug certainties of fundamentalists and militant atheists alike.

 

Who can know God’s counsel?

Who can know what God intends?

 

No one.

 

That doesn’t mean humans don’t pretend to know God’s counsel.  It doesn't mean they won't offer a strong opinion on what the Lord intends, sometimes giving the impression that they were God's hired consultants. 

 

“Scarce do we guess the things on earth, and what is within our grasp we find with difficulty.” That is a concise history of science. It is summary of all medical advances since Hippocrates, and a synopsis of world history from before it was written down.

 

Men on the moon . . .

But we can’t alleviate the traffic on 128, I-93, or Storrow Drive.

 

Heart transplants are routine . . .

the common cold remains a scourge.

 

Seedless watermelons

(wasted research dollars as they lack flavor as well as seeds). . . 

but hunger afflicts much of the world.

 

All of those accomplishments were achieved with great difficulty.  Our only choice is to accept our mortality, to admit our fallibility and our status as flawed beings. Our only choice is to recall that we are sinners, but sinners who are loved by God, whose counsel or intent we can never know.  When we recall this we can only marvel at the insight of the psalmist:

 

“For a thousand years in your sight

are as yesterday, . . .

or a watch in the night. . .”

 

We do not know God’s counsel.  We do not know what the Lord intends. It can never be otherwise.

 

Jesus’ parable reflects the first reading and illustrates the difficulty of being human and fallible. Who does construct a tower without calculating the cost?  Probably the same people as those responsible for the Big Dig. Who marches into—or withdraws from— battle without calculating the strength of his troops or the cost of his actions?  Only a fool.  But Jesus is not simply addressing the need to plan ahead.  He is warning us of the cost of commitment.

 

What is the cost to someone who chooses to follow Jesus?  It is high.  It is high in ways that are unique to each of us who make that choice.  The cost of following Jesus is high in ways dependent on our individual life stories, our individual vocations,  and our unique talents.

 

Jesus reminds us frequently that the cost of following Him is going to be high. Perhaps higher than we calculated.  It may also be easier than expected.  Because we cannot know God’s counsel or what He intends, we can only say yes to following Jesus on the grounds of faith, the kind of faith that the Letter to the Hebrews defines eloquently as: “Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen.”

 

And then we pray with the psalmist:

 

"Fill us at daybreak with your kindness,

that we may shout for joy and gladness all our days.

And may the gracious care of the LORD our God be ours;

prosper the work of our hands for us!

Prosper the work of our hands!

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A bit late posting.  It is football season.  Penn State was playing (and won though it was not pretty).  The photos are from a recent trip to the Charterhouse in Vermont.  Stayed in a very large mid-50s house that is almost a museum of pastel kitchen, dishes. and furniture.  The house overlooks Arlington, VT

Took this while sipping the first of many cups of coffee that day.  It was one of the most beautiful days of the summer.  The fog is about 2600 feet below the house. 

The living room and the deck overlooking the valley.  The problem with the house is that the windows don't open. Ventilation is only possible from the small screened windows near the baseboards.  I generally stay in the maid's quarters off the kitchen as it actually has windows that open.  

Carved wooden statue of St. Bruno, the founder of the order.

The Carthusian seal on the window of the small museum at the summit.  The clouds and sky are the reflection.  The glass is tinted and very thick  

Tempted to steal this from the wall. A quilt with the seal of the order repeated multiple times.

Am fascinated by these glasses on display.  They look like something from which June Cleaver or Harriet Nelson would sip their bubbly.

Shooting down.  No, I was not standing on a chair. 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD