The Care of the Poor

Homily for the Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

The three readings for this Sunday’s liturgy offer a powerful and cohesive message about justice, compassion, and the eternal consequences of our choices.

For a second Sunday we hear from the prophet Amos. As a reminder, let me mention again that Amos was a sheep breeder of Tekoa in Judah, who delivered his oracles in the Northern Kingdom during the prosperous reign of Jeroboam II who reigned from 786–746 B.C. He prophesied in Israel at the great cult center of Bethel, from which he was finally expelled by Amaziah, the priest in charge of this royal sanctuary. Amos is a prophet of divine judgment. He was no innovator; his conservatism was in keeping with the whole prophetic tradition calling the people back to the high moral and religious demands of the Lord’s revelation.

Amos’s message stands as one of the most powerful voices ever to challenge hypocrisy and injustice. He boldly indicts kings, priests, and leaders. He stresses the importance and the divine origin of the prophetic word; one must either heed that word in its entirety or suffer its disappearance. Religion without justice is an affront to the God of Israel and, far from appeasing God, can only provoke divine wrath. He condemns the complacent wealthy who indulge in luxury while ignoring the suffering around them. The prophet’s words are sharp as he speaks of those who “lie on beds of ivory.” He warns that they will be the first to be dragged off into slavery when Assyria attacks. However, his words also challenge us in our own time to examine where we may be complacent as well, comfortable with our ability to ignore the needs of the poor, the lonely, and the suffering. Complacency in our pursuit of justice and our care for the poor simply has no place in a people of faith.

After the words of Amos, the Church assigns verses from Psalm 146 as our response. This psalm praises God who “secures justice for the oppressed,” “gives food to the hungry,” and “raises up those who are bowed down.” God is the source of life and continues the role of Creator by giving sight to the blind, sustaining the widows and orphans, and befriending the stranger, a word that is used in the Scriptures to designate the foreigner or alien. We are invited to align our priorities with those of God. If God lifts up poor, should we not also do the same?

In his First Letter to Timothy, Paul urges Timothy to “pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, and gentleness.” Notice that this admonition begins with the word “But.” So Paul is contrasting Timothy’s behavior with those of who Paul has just spoken. In the two verses immediately before this passage, Paul writes: “Those who want to be rich are falling into temptation and into a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires, which plunge them into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is the root of all evils, and some people in their desire for it have strayed from the faith and have pierced themselves with many pains.”

While these words were written to a single individual, the Church obviously calls us to the same virtues. We live in a culture obsessed with material success. If we are to “fight the good fight of faith, then we must witness our own care for the poor. If we turn our backs on those who live without the basic necessities of life, we cannot be called people of faith. Just as the covenant of Sinai that Moses mediated with God for the children of Israel has a special place for widows, orphans, aliens, and the poor, modern day Jews and Christians must look at the poor as more than objects of pity. We are obliged to reach out to them and share our resources.

The parable of the rich man and Lazarus from the Gospel of Saint Luke contains many details that bring the message of this parable to life. However, focusing on just one of those details illustrates the message of Amos and St. Paul; namely, the plea of the rich man to allow Lazarus to dip his finger in water to cool his tongue. Abraham reminds the rich man that a great chasm exists between the place where the rich man suffers and Lazarus is comforted in the bosom of Abraham. He goes on to say that that chasm exists to prevent anyone from crossing from one side to the other. Obviously, that chasm could have been crossed during the lifetime of the rich man and the poor Lazarus who lay at the door of the rich man’s house, covered with sores, but completely ignored as the rich man entered and left his house every day. Indeed, such a chasm does exist between the rich and the poor today. However, during our lifetime it is still possible for us to come to the aid of the poor, to bridge that chasm, a possibility that will not be possible after we have come to the end of our life.

Yesterday was the Memorial of St. Vincent de Paul. His memory is still invoked and his name is used in many parishes that reach out to the poor through the St. Vincent Depaul Society. In one of his letters, St. Vincent once wrote: “If you consider the poor in the light of faith, then you will observe that they are taking the place of the Son of God who chose to be poor. Although in his passion he almost lost the appearance of a human being and was considered a fool by the Gentiles and a stumbling block by the Jews, he showed them that his mission was to preach to the poor. We also ought to have the same spirit and imitate Christ’s actions, that is, we must take care of the poor, console them, help them, and support their cause. Since Christ willed to be born poor, he chose for himself disciples who were poor. He made himself servant of the poor and shared their poverty. He went so far as to say that he would consider every deed which either helps or harms the poor as something done for himself. Since God surely loves the poor, God most also definitely loves those who love the poor… It is our duty to prefer the service of the poor to everything else and to offer such service as quickly as possible.”

To be sure, our choices now have eternal consequences. Mercy shown today echoes into eternity. God’s mercy is always available. The readings are not just warnings—they are invitations to live with compassion, humility, and purpose. We are called to be people who see Lazarus, who lift up the lowly, and who pursue righteousness with joy. We cannot afford to be complacent for that is exactly how the rich man in the parable lived his life. He simply ignored the poor beggar who lay at his door day after day. God’s justice and our faith demand that we respond to this invitation.