Homily For This Sunday - 28th September 2025 (Twenty-Sixth Sunday in ordinary Time)

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

In today's Gospel, Jesus tells us a story that has haunted Christians for two thousand years – the parable of the rich man and Lazarus. This parable isn't simply a warning about the afterlife; it's a mirror held up to our own lives, challenging us to see where we stand in relation to the suffering around us.

The rich man – who tradition has named Dives, though Scripture doesn't give him a name – "dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day." In contrast, Lazarus lay at his gate, "covered with sores," longing "to eat the scraps that fell from the rich man's table." The chasm between them is stark and deliberate in Jesus' telling.

What's striking about this parable is not that the rich man actively harmed Lazarus. His sin was not one of commission but of omission. Day after day, he stepped over or around Lazarus. He saw him – how could he not? – but he failed to truly *see* him. The rich man's indifference was his condemnation.

This theme of indifference to suffering resonates powerfully in our first reading from the prophet Amos. The prophet condemns those who "lie on beds of ivory," who "eat lambs from the flock," who "drink wine from bowls," and who "anoint themselves with the best oils." These are not evil people in the conventional sense. They're simply comfortable people who have insulated themselves from the suffering of others.

Amos delivers God's judgment with chilling clarity: "Therefore, now they shall be the first to go into exile." The prophet is reminding us that God's justice has a preferential option for the poor – those who have lived in comfort while ignoring the suffering around them will be the first to face judgment.

In his first letter to Timothy, St. Paul gives us the antidote to such indifference. He exhorts Timothy – and us – to "pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness." Paul reminds us that we are called to "compete well for the faith" and to "lay hold of eternal life." This isn't a passive faith but an active one that engages with the world around us.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church reinforces this teaching when it states: "Those who are oppressed by poverty are the object of a preferential love on the part of the Church which, since her origin and in spite of the failings of many of her members, has not ceased to work for their relief, defense, and liberation" (CCC 2448).

Pope Francis has emphasized this teaching throughout his pontificate. He reminds us that "indifference is dangerous, whether innocent or not." The Holy Father has called us repeatedly to overcome what he terms the "globalization of indifference" – our tendency to grow accustomed to the suffering of others, to turn away from the pain we see around us.

So what does this mean for us today? How do we avoid becoming like the rich man in the parable?

First, we must learn to truly see. The rich man's fundamental failure was his inability to see Lazarus as a person, as a brother. Each day, we encounter people who are suffering – sometimes visibly, sometimes invisibly. Do we see them? Do we acknowledge their humanity, their dignity as children of God?

Second, we must recognize that the chasm between rich and poor, between comfort and suffering, exists in our world today just as it did in Jesus' time. In fact, Pope Benedict XVI noted that "the parable of the rich man and Lazarus must be ever present in our memory; it must form our conscience."

The rich man in the parable didn't create the social conditions that led to Lazarus's poverty, but he benefited from them and did nothing to change them. Similarly, we may not have created the systems that lead to poverty and suffering in our world, but if we benefit from them while doing nothing to change them, we share in the rich man's guilt.

Third, we must act. St. James reminds us that "faith without works is dead" (James 2:26). Our faith calls us to concrete actions of love and mercy. These actions might be personal – giving directly to those in need, volunteering our time, changing our consumption habits. They might also be social and political – advocating for just policies, supporting organizations that serve the poor, working to change unjust systems.

The psalm today reminds us that God "secures justice for the oppressed, gives food to the hungry." As followers of Christ, we are called to be instruments of God's justice and mercy in the world.

Brothers and sisters, the parable ends with a warning. When the rich man begs Abraham to send Lazarus to warn his brothers, Abraham responds, "If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead."

We have been given Moses and the prophets. We have been given something even greater – Christ himself, who has indeed risen from the dead. We have no excuse for indifference. The question is: Will we listen? Will we see? Will we act?

As we prepare to receive Christ in the Eucharist, let us remember that in this sacred meal, the distance between heaven and earth is bridged. The same Christ who identifies with Lazarus comes to us under the appearance of bread and wine. When we receive Him, we commit ourselves to becoming more like Him – to seeing with His eyes, loving with His heart, and acting with His courage.

Let us pray that there will be no unbridgeable chasm between our faith and our actions, between our worship here and our lives outside these walls. May God give us the grace to see, to care, and to act, that we might be instruments of His mercy in a world that desperately needs it.

Amen.