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Danny was living on a grassy area near
the I-5 freeway, out of the sight of most, but not out of the minds of our
doctors and nurses.
We knew Danny from serving this elderly
man in failing health at one of the temporary housing facilities we serve. But
after two strokes and limited mobility, Danny found himself back on the streets
struggling just to live.
The strokes impacted his right side, making
it difficult to walk and limiting his ability to even feed himself with hands
that weren’t working well enough to open the food our outreach teams delivered to
him several times a week.
Our medical team monitored his decline
over the summer with frequent visits to check-up on Danny. At the end of
August, we were quite concerned that things had become acute, requiring a
hospital stay. Danny was reluctant to follow the doctor’s recommendation to
check-himself-in to the ER at the nearby hospital.
He had become so weak that he could
barely move and a few nights more in the growing chilly nights could prove
fatal.
With some gentle encouragement, Danny
finally agreed.
The next day, we picked up Danny and sat
with him at the ER as they checked him into the hospital. Thankfully, our Medical
Director works as an ER doc at the hospital and worked to make sure Danny would
be afforded the care he needed.
Sadly, this is not always the case for
our unhoused friends.
Danny would spend two weeks in the
hospital before being transferred to an assisted care facility nearby. Danny
called it an “old folks home.”
Thanks to the care and regular meals,
Danny’s health rebounded.
I wish I could say Danny was still
living sheltered at the assisted care facility, but as his strength returned,
so did his cantankerousness. He checked himself out (AMA – Against Medical
Advice) after two weeks there. He’s now back on the streets and we are keeping
an eye on his well-being. Ready to act
if needed.
Our MercyWatch team did exactly what the
Gospel calls each and every one of us to do. Have eyes to see and hearts to act
to care for the poorest among us.
My brothers and sisters in Christ, today’s
readings confront us with a stark and uncomfortable truth: our lives can be
filled with abundant blessings, yet empty of the very love that gives our lives
meaning. In other words, devoid of mercy for the Lazarus’ of the world.
The prophet Amos warns the wealthy of
his time: “Woe to the complacent in Zion.” They recline on ivory couches, feast
on lambs and calves, sing idle songs, drink wine from bowls—while the ruin of
their people unfolds around them. They live in comfort but without compassion.
And Amos says their security will not save them; they will be the first to go
into exile when the conquering Assyrians invade.
Centuries later, Jesus tells a parable
of another man of wealth—a man so comfortable that he doesn’t even notice the
beggar Lazarus at his gate, covered in sores, longing for scraps from his
table. And after death, the roles are reversed: the rich man is in torment
while Lazarus rests in Abraham’s bosom. Between them, Jesus says, there is a
“great chasm” no one can cross.
That chasm of indifference didn’t appear
by accident. It was dug day by day in the rich man’s lifetime—every time he
stepped over Lazarus, every time he ignored his suffering, every time he chose
self-indulgence over mercy.
Isn’t that how the great chasms of our
world are dug?
·
Between
the wealthy and the poor
·
Between
the comfortable and the suffering
·
Between
our faith on Sunday and our choices on Monday
We don’t need to be millionaires to fall
into this trap. Even in ordinary lives, it’s easy to live a life turned inward,
focused on our wants, our routines, our comfort—and to become blind to the
Lazarus at our own gate.
St.
Paul, writing to Timothy, gives the antidote:
“Pursue
righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness. Compete well
for the faith. Lay hold of eternal life.”
This is the opposite of complacency. It
is an active faith—one that sees the needs of those around us and
responds with love. It refuses to let selfishness or comfort numb our
hearts.
Paul reminds us that God alone “dwells
in unapproachable light,” and we are invited to share in that life. But we
cannot cross the chasm to Him if we keep digging deeper ones here on earth.
So, how to bridge the chasm? The rich
man begged Abraham to send someone from the dead to warn his brothers.
Abraham’s reply is haunting: “They have Moses and the prophets; let them listen
to them.”
We have even more—we have Christ risen
from the dead. And He warns us in love: Don’t wait until it’s too late.
Every act of mercy, every choice to see
the forgotten, every time we put someone else’s need before our comfort—we
place a plank across that chasm. And over time, with Christ as the bridge, the
gap between heaven and earth begins to close in our own hearts.
So, my sisters and brothers, let’s live
with eyes open and hearts ready. Let’s notice the Lazarus at our gate—in our
families, our parish, our community, even in the hidden corners of our world.
Because when we cross the chasm of
indifference with love, we are already walking the bridge to eternal life.
May Christ open our eyes, strengthen our
hearts, and help us to live lives full of compassion as we compete well for the
faith—until the day we rest in the arms of the God who is Love itself. Amen.
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