Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time C
The parable Jesus tells us this Sunday is chock full of
foundational truths of our Catholic faith. First, it teaches us the truth of the immortality of the soul:
God made us to live forever; we have a definite beginning, but will not have an
end. It teaches us of the
existence of heaven and hell: what we’ve done (or what we’ve failed to do) in
time will have real and lasting consequences in eternity. The parable teaches us about the
dignity of the human person: every human life has immense value—not because of
what it can accomplish, but simply because it has been created by God—and that
dignity must be honored. Finally,
it even hints at the very core of Christian faith: the saving death and
resurrection of Jesus Christ.
But even with so many central beliefs contained within this one
parable, there’s yet another that I believe is still more basic.
What is the essential difference between Lazarus and the
rich man? No, I’m not talking
about money. I’m not even talking
about the wide gap between their eternal destinies. The main difference is that only one of them realizes that
he’s a beggar.
You see, the rich man thinks of himself as self-made. He flaunts his accomplishments with
daily banquets and flashy clothes.
He considers himself as the source of his own notable success. And if he can succeed so well, then why
can’t anybody? Ought not everyone—including
the poor man lying at his gate—do something to get ahead?
In being so full of himself, the rich man has left no room
for God.
Meanwhile, having so precious little, Lazarus clearly
recognizes his total dependence on God—even for the small comfort he gets from
the neighborhood dogs. Whatever he
gets, no matter how small the scrap, is a gift to be received with gratitude.
And what Lazarus recognizes, we all must recognize. Consider even just the bare necessities
for life. When it comes to
food—sure, I can plant seeds…but I can’t make them grow. I can construct a simple shelter…but
can’t create the stones or trees from which to build it. We require air and water…and while we
can protect or pollute them, no one of us can make them from scratch. And what’s true of the needs of the
body is equally true when it comes to the soul. How complete is our reliance on God!
Do you see now the essential split between the rich man and
Lazarus? And realizing this makes
all the difference in how we understand the parable! Without this distinction, Jesus can seem to be teaching
that, as long as we’re good to the less fortunate, then heaven is guaranteed:
you do this, and God will certainly do that. But such thinking makes God into a taskmaster, not the Lord
of love and mercy we meet in the Gospel!
The parable’s message is actually quite the opposite. God owes us nothing, and yet gives us
everything. And when we recognize
that everything’s a gift, everything’s a grace—not what’s due to us, but the
fruit of divine love—then we’re moved to share what we’ve been given
with others.
Next year will be the five-hundredth anniversary of when Martin
Luther nailed his ninety-nine grievances on the cathedral door, sparking the
Protestant Reformation. As you
might easily imagine, I’m not in full agreement with everything Luther said or
did. But there’s something that he
most definitely got entirely right.
On his deathbed, Martin Luther took a small scrap of paper and scribbled
six simple words in German, which translate: “We’re all beggars. This is true.”
We are all beggars. And we’re never more beggars then when we kneel here before the
Lord’s Table and ask of him our daily bread.
Freely we receive; freely we must give.
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