XXVI Sunday of Ordinary Time, Cycle C

Amos 6:1a,4-7
Ps  146:7-10
1 Tm 6:11-16
Lk 16:19-31

Have you ever experienced a miracle in your life?  A miracle where you know that God had a hand in it; where something undeniably, unmistakably happened that was simply unexplainable and beyond our comprehension and reason.  Did you change your life and have a radical conversion?  And when I say a radical conversion, I mean like you did a complete 180, stopped sinning, and started a life of complete holiness and sanctity.  For a large majority of us faithful (with some exceptions in history), miracles only have the potential to cause a complete radical conversion. But chances are the faith will burn brightly, only to go out or back to smoldering again.  This is because the real heart of the faith is not in the miraculous or the “new shiny" thing that’s happening, but in the constancy of the practice of charity in faith.

The story we hear in today’s Gospel speaks of two men, a certain rich man and Lazarus.  Interestingly enough, the early Christian Fathers of the Church also noticed that Lazarus was named but the rich man was not.  St. Augustine said that God kept quiet about the rich man’s name because “his name was not written in heaven.”  (This is a situation where we would rather want our names to be mentioned in conversation!)  So Jesus kept quiet about the rich man’s but mentions Lazarus, whose name means “one who has been helped.”

The lavish opulent lifestyle of the rich man is described in the fine purple garments and linens that the rich man wore.  Though this was not a moral problem per se, the problem was in that there was a poor man lying at his front door covered with sores and starving.  The rich man had an opportunity to do something for Lazarus every time he walked out that front door.  It’s not like he didn’t know he was there, he was at his front door!!  And so dogs – considered unclean and dirty – were the only ones to give Lazarus any comfort.  What the dogs did, the rich man couldn’t even do.  And so they both died and their fortunes were now reversed – as was promised in Jesus’ preaching and all throughout the scriptures: that the lowly would be lifted up, the hungry would be fed.

What I find even more deplorable about this rich man is that even in the midst of his suffering, you can see how far gone he is from charity.  He’s suffering the flames of hell and what does he do?  He cries for LAZARUS to dip the tip of his finger in water to cool his tongue!  Wait… so he neglected Lazarus all his life and now he wants Lazarus to SERVE him?!  What contempt this rich man has!! St. Peter Chrysologus – an early Church Father - continues this theme, “The rich man’s ill will does not leave him… He does not ask to be led to Lazarus but wants Lazarus to be led to him.”  Let this be a lesson for us on how we live in this life: to prepare for the next!  If you continue in your contempt for others now, you will continue your contemptible behavior in the afterlife and contempt will be shown to you.  If you continue your self-centeredness, greediness, and selfishness now, you will continue to live in that torment of sinful habits later.

I think this parable has a “moral neutrality” to it and yet speaks volumes about morality.  The moral neutrality is that both parties did not do anything.  The rich man lived as a rich man did and the poor man lived as a poor man did.  There were no lies, no back-biting, no killing, or stealing.  Come to think of it, what commandment was broken here?  Our society only deals with “first world problems” and to preach this maxim of “do no harm”.  There is a danger to be complacent as is warned in the first reading from the prophet Amos: Woe to the complacent in Zion! Lying upon beds of ivory, stretched comfortably on their couches.  But yet, I would hope that in our fundamental being – that of simply being a human person in the human race – we would go beyond what animals would do; and act with compassion and charity.  Whereas society only believes charity to be a novel – “oh how nice” – idea, for us as Christians charity is obligatory.  This is social justice: When you see trash you pick it up; when you see someone in danger you help them; when you see someone hungry you give them food; Thirsty? Give them drink; Homeless? Shelter them; Sick? Visit them.  Those who are well off have the moral obligation to help the poor carry the cross of poverty.  The poor carry the cross of poverty in the humility of allowing themselves to be helped and lifted up.  Notice that Lazarus’ suffering is not done with demanding that he be helped: not begrudgingly, not belligerently, and not with a sense of resentment or anger against others, but suffers with expectant faith and hope; and in his silence, waits for the Lord to show His love through his brother the rich man.

When your life is truly in shambles and in crisis, (i.e. not first world problems like your television does not match your living room furniture or the car dealership only had dark leather interior and not the nice beige that you wanted) when your life is in the very pit of desolation, remember that this suffering is purgative and a call for you to rely on God all the more.  If you stop and only look at your suffering, wallowing in it – it will corrupt you, it will change you, and bring you to a place filled with vengeance, anger, and resentment.  Whether it’s poverty, difficulty in marriage, children, work and finances, or any relationship, suffering is a means to an end and not an end in itself.  Look at the Cross and unite yourselves with Him to give you strength.  For Lazarus, he remained silent, suffered silently, and waited for charity, but did not grow bitter.  He waited for the change of heart from a rich man and was consoled in the promise of the eternal reward of heaven in the bosom of Abraham.  Remember that what you practice here on earth, will be what is received in heaven.  If you show mercy, mercy will be shown.

So was there a sign of remorse and outward growth in thinking with the rich man when he asks that Abraham go to his brothers?  St. Jerome answers in a stinging rebuke, “Your father is Abraham.  How can you say, Send him to my father’s house [to warn your brothers]? ...your father destroyed you.… [with your] five brothers: sight, smell, taste, hearing, and touch.  These are the brothers to whom formerly you were enslaved.  Since they were the brothers you loved, you could not love your brother Lazarus.”

In St. Paul’s first letter to Timothy, he writes Compete well for the faith. Lay hold of eternal life, to which you were called…  In other translations, he says to “Fight the good fight.”  By our very baptism and members of the Body of Christ, we are all called to fight the good fight to lay hold of eternal life.  We must continue the struggle of living out our lives in holiness not only for ourselves but for those around us.

The rich man wanted Abraham to go and tell his brothers, but God knew that they would not listen because they have not listened to anyone in the past.  Let’s put it in today’s terms – if you didn’t listen to Pope John Paul II and all the Church’s teachings before him, and you didn’t listen to Pope Benedict XVI, you certainly aren’t going to listen to Pope Francis today.  No miracle, no incredible apparition will change your hearts if your hearts were not ready to be opened in the first place.   Don’t wait for some great experience to scare you straight!  The Christian faith cannot be injected in us.  It must be lived out faithfully as Catholic Christians every single day of our life.  Our lives are not about having that one miraculous experience that will instantly make us holy.  Rather it is our journey with God – our very life – it is about the constancy and stability of the practice of your faith.  Only when you are faithful in faith can you truly be a witness to the Resurrection and receive the promise of future glory with Him.

XXIII Sunday of Ordinary Time, Cycle C

Wis 9:13-18b
Ps 90:3-4,5-6,12-13,14-17
Phmn 9-10, 12-17
Lk 14:25-33

With the U.S.’s potential involvement in the civil war in Syria, today’s Gospel seems to be quite serendipitous; especially about how one must be able to consider the cost before entering into conflict.  It is easy for me to give my personal opinion on the matter, but the truth is – I don’t have all the facts – and so I don’t have an answer as to what exactly should be done.  Our faith does spell out necessary conditions for one to enter into armed conflict and I don’t think we’ve satisfied them.  These are spelled out in the Catechism of the Catholic Church paragraph #2309: conditions for legitimate defense by military force or “just war” doctrine (see bottom).  So, we do know one thing that shouldn’t be done right now.  That all being said and as fitting as the Gospel may seem to point in that direction, I don’t want to get into that.  I believe that our message today is not political or military message, but one of discipleship.  What does it mean to be called a disciple of Jesus Christ?  What does it mean to pick up your cross and follow Him?

I can’t help but think about my own family and the families that I knew growing up.  When Jesus says, If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple, He is putting a great condition, a price on discipleship.  The faith – the Catholic faith – is an all or nothing faith!  And even if this notion seems unbalanced in this “tolerant” world, it can be no other way than this.

The faith is not something that is simply subscribed to like a “wine of the month” club or some Netflix movie account.  It’s not a cellphone plan.  Even though all of these are a part of life, you can cancel them anytime!  But the faith is something different. The faith is not something you can cancel anytime because it is a living, breathing, relationship with God and His Church – the community around you.  The Catholic notion of “grace” means that it permeates you and makes all of your actions not only naturally ordered, but supernaturally ordered to God.  It can’t be canceled, it’s always there by your baptism.

For those who truly follow Christ, you cannot picture a life without God because you walk so intimately with Him.  For everyone else – including those of you that do not come regularly and ESPECIALLY those of you that do not live the way God wants you to live the other six days of the week – your faith is clearly only an insurance policy: “…so I don’t burn in hell.”  When our Lord says that one must hate their own immediate family – even if it means it sours your relationship with family or friends – that’s a radical call to discipleship, that is a complete life, not an insurance policy.  The call to follow Him is truly radical; it is that intense – to put Him even over and above those who are closest to you.

Does this mean that as a priest, I hate my parents, my family members, and everyone else around me?  No, absolutely not.  In and through following Christ – believe it or not – I actually am able to love them even better and even more than I could ever love them without Christ. If you don’t believe me, just ask them.  It’s because I have tried to put my life in right order and priority.  When things are properly ordered in my life: God first (as the first three of the 10 Commandments), then family and neighbor (the other 7), my life runs so much more smoothly, if not better!  It’s like going from DVD to HD Blu-ray; so much better, so vivid - that if you were to go back, you wonder how you were able to live life before it.  When we put God first, the other things in life fall into place.

The cost of discipleship is great; not because God is greedy and wants it all, but because it is for our own benefit – relying on Him completely and totally.  It is difficult to translate the eternal plans and wonders of God into our tangible reality.  As we hear in our First Reading, Who can know God’s counsel, who can conceive what the Lord intends? For the deliberations of mortals are timid, and unsure are our plans. For the corruptible body burdens the soul and the earthen shelter weighs down the mind that has many concerns…  When we rely on Him and depend on Him and cooperate with Him, we are not only picking up our crosses, we are helping ourselves.  We rely on His playbook instead of ours.

If salvation could simply be accomplished by a simple declaration from God, we wouldn’t value it.  However, because God allows us to cooperate with His salvific work – we appreciate and see the dignity of that work and we see tangible growth in the sanctification of our lives.  We aren’t robots or puppets that simply act on instruction (we might have when we were children), but human beings that engage and experience the things around us in freedom, which we must have the correct understanding of what freedom is. (Hint: it’s not doing whatever you want.)

Our Second Reading shows just that: an exercise of freedom to do the right thing; not because we are told but because it is the right thing to do.  St. Paul had found this guy Onesimus, who was Philemon’s runaway slave (for whatever reason). Paul writes to the master, Philemon, asking that he treat Onesimus as a brother in Christ rather than as a master would a slave.  The call to discipleship is an invitation – not to upset the social order per se – but to transform it in respecting human dignity and also exercising charity; even at the expense of “losing property” (i.e. the slave).  So the cost of discipleship is great – because it requires our complete investment: soul, mind, and body; and in addition, it requires that investment to be done freely, not like robots.

When Christ gives these military analogies of building towers, measuring resources, and negotiating peace, He is showing us where prudence must enter into our discipleship with God.  The zeal in which many of us Christians enter into with God eventually cause burnout and perhaps even repulsion to religion.  The cost of discipleship is a marathon, not a sprint – in both cases you are still running but the former requires you to engage in the action of judging and discerning where to spend your energies.  You may build a great and awesome foundation, but your tower never gets off the ground.  You may have an army ready to mobilize, but you lack the skill and the unity to defeat the enemy.  Therefore even if you are willing, wanting, and desiring with all your heart, mind, soul, and body to pick up that cross and follow Him, you must do it prudentially.  In a culture of “everything right here right now”, that’s going to be hard and it will take a lot of patience, endurance, and perseverance.

So here in our scriptures today, we have some points of what it means to be a disciple.  First it must be complete – you can’t serve two masters, you cannot put anything before God.  Second, it must be done freely – we are not robots but people that have free will to express our love for God without coercion. Finally, discipleship means exercising prudence and judgment so that your zeal is tempered and not blinded.  In three simple words: objective/goal, will, and intellect the cost of discipleship is simply delineated; but mind you, it takes a lifetime to master.  Therefore, let us continue to worship together in the Holy Eucharist so that we may have the strength to engage ourselves in this journey of discipleship together.

Catechism of the Catholic Church
2309. The strict conditions for legitimate defense by military force require rigorous consideration. The gravity of such a decision makes it subject to rigorous conditions of moral legitimacy. At one and the same time:

• the damage inflicted by the aggressor on the nation or community of nations must be lasting, grave, and certain;
• all other means of putting an end to it must have been shown to be impractical or ineffective;
• there must be serious prospects of success;
• the use of arms must not produce evils and disorders graver than the evil to be eliminated. The power of modern means of destruction weighs very heavily in evaluating this condition.

These are the traditional elements enumerated in what is called the "just war" doctrine.
The evaluation of these conditions for moral legitimacy belongs to the prudential judgment of those who have responsibility for the common good.