As I listened
to Fr Dave’s homily this past Sunday, there was one statement he made that had a great deal of impact on me. He noted that in the Gospel, the rich man had no name. Aside from Father Abraham, the only other person in the Gospel that was named was Lazarus, the beggar covered in sores who begged outside the rich man’s house.
I remember Mary Deaner, the Director of Pastoral Ministry at St. Stephen’s in South Minneapolis, telling me one day that one of the greatest gifts that St. Stephen gives to the poor and the homeless that come to the church, was that we knew them by name. I reflected on what she said. The poor and the homeless were not just another nameless statistic in some record book. By knowing their name their humanity was restored to them. Calling them by name reminded them that they were human and that someone cared enough for them to know their name.
The rich man in the Gospel was so self-absorbed, so full of himself, he didn’t need a name because he believed that he would always be remembered for his wealth. This is reminiscent of Psalm 49, prayed in the Liturgy of the Hours on Tuesday night, week two.
‘This is the lot of those who trust in themselves,
who have others at their beck and call.
Like sheep they are driven to the grave,
where death shall be their shepherd
and the just shall become their rulers.
With the morning their outward show vanishes
and the grave becomes their home.
But God will ransom me from death
and take my soul to himself.
Then do not fear when a man grows rich,
when the glory of his house increases.
He takes nothing with him when he dies,
his glory does not follow him below.
Though he flattered himself while he lived:
“Men will praise me for all my success,”
yet he will go to join his father,
who will never see the light any more.
In his riches, man lacks wisdom:
he is like the beasts that are destroyed.’
However nameless the beggar at his door may have been to the rich man, God knew the beggar’s name. God named him Lazarus, and the love and compassion of God for this sick, suffering, neglected man outside the rich man’s door, gifted him with eternal life in heaven. The rich man was rewarded for his neglect of the beggar by spending eternity in eternal damnation.
What I received from the story was had the rich man knew Lazarus by name and responded to the needs of Lazarus, the nameless rich man would have been named and standing by the side of Father Abraham along with Lazarus. Because he willfully neglected Lazarus, the rich man became just one of many nameless souls suffering eternal torment.
Who are the Lazarus’ in our lives? Who are those poor souls around us who are the nameless, and the forgotten in our midst? Do we treat them with the same fear and the same neglect as the rich man treated Lazarus in the Gospel? If the great commandment of Jesus to love God and love neighbor does not compel us to act on behalf of the nameless and the powerless in our society, will the fear of eternal damnation compel us? If, in our society, we are one with the rich man and look upon the plight of the poor and the nameless and adopt the attitude of “I just don’t give a damn,” we may just find that our “not giving a damn,” will become our own self-fulfilling prophecy.
