What Did I Do Wrong?

Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, C                                                   September 29, 2019
Fr. Albert                                                                                St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette

To maintain order in my classroom, I used a warning system that involved writing students’ names on the board. Sometimes, when I wrote a name, I would get an immediate reaction from the child “But I didn’t do anything wrong! What did I dooo?” I wonder if the rich man in this parable had that same reaction? Because it’s not like he killed anyone, or stole anything, or lied, or worshiped pagan idols. He never hurt Lazarus. What was so bad that he deserved eternal torment? Why did my students receive unexpected warnings?

Because of what they did not do. Not paying attention, not waiting their turn. The rich man never committed evil, he simply omitted good. When Jesus talks about people going to hell, it’s often for what they didn’t do rather than what they did. The steward who didn’t stay awake, the servant who didn’t forgive the debt to another servant, this rich man who didn’t comfort Lazarus.

But it’s not like he failed some kind of secret test. My students acted like it wasn’t fair because they didn’t know. But they did know, they only forgot. The rich man seems to think it’s unfair and wants Lazarus to warn his brothers so they can know better. But they already know better. Moses and the prophets make it quite clear that love of neighbor is required. The precept “love your neighbor as yourself” actually comes from the Old Testament. Jesus simply repeats it.

The rich man didn’t hate his neighbor, he just ignored him. A better word for the rich man’s problem is complacency. He was not only indifferent to the troubles of Lazarus, but complacent about his whole spiritual well-being. The extraordinary wealth and comfort he enjoyed made it easy for him to rest securely, to feel as if he had arrived, and to gradually forget the command to love his neighbor. Wealth is dangerous because it insulates us and allows us to forget the suffering of others.

And this dynamic has repeated itself throughout human history for believers and non-believers alike. The prophet Amos, our first reading, warns against this exact problem. At the time, the northern part of ancient Israel had become immoral and unfaithful. Because of that, God allows the Assyrian empire to invade and take them as captives. Despite being 10 of God’s chosen tribes, despite God’s special favors and promises, they were conquered and never recovered. To this day, they are known as the “lost tribes” of Israel.

Well, right before all this happens Amos comes to warn them, “woe to the complacent in Zion.” Those who can afford to eat meat daily, to be constantly entertained, to drink freely and lay about comfortably. The wealthy, the ones with the power to change the course of the culture, to lead people back to a life of piety and faithfulness to God – these are the ones who suffer the most because their comfort blinded them to the needs of their fellow Israelites.

So, when you look at the rapid decline of the Catholic Church in the past few decades, what do you think is the cause? Is God unfaithful? Is the Church wrong and “outdated” in our modern world? No. It was complacency. Until the World Wars, Catholics had to fight for their faith. We were often second-class citizens, indirectly persecuted in a number of ways. But the unifying power of global catastrophes overcame many barriers. Catholics could suddenly become famous, or even be the president. Priests and nuns were everywhere, schools had waiting lists, and though we still had enemies, we were a respected part of American culture. We were wealthy.

And we became complacent, we stopped striving, we allowed terrible sins to spring up within the Church. At the root of complacency is this lie: that it’s okay to stop, being successful in this life is the goal, getting along in this world is enough. Lies. Jesus Christ never once promises worldly comfort and success. He often warns against it and his biggest enemies are not pagan rulers but “successful” religious leaders. St. Paul here in our second reading tells Timothy to “compete well for the faith.” “Pursue righteousness” he says. Competition and complacency do not mix. Pursuit and competition are hard, so it’s almost natural to avoid them.

Yet they cannot be avoided in this life. We have two choices. To pursue God or to pursue our selves. If we chase after God and his love, it will mean life-long struggle and work. It will mean voluntarily forgoing comforts and pleasures on occasion or even frequently. Yes there are moments of joy and success, but they are mere glimpses, foretastes of the final victory, the final comfort that cannot be found in this world. If we take them for the finish line, we will only fall behind again.

To pursue ourselves is to become lost. Should we actually succeed in being comfortable, in avoiding most torments and afflictions, all the worse for us! It only strengthens the lie that this world is enough. Then, like the rich man, we sit in our wealth and feast on our riches, forgetting the afflictions and torments of others in the world, failing to comfort them as God commanded until death comes and we find ourselves crying out “What did I do wrong! I didn’t doo anything!” Exactly.

So, reflect now on what you haven’t done, on where wealth has made you complacent. Wealth can be more than money. What time and talents of yours are idly spent on your own amusement rather than God’s glory and the service of others? The riches of our faith are abundant. Are you so complacent with these riches that others can’t see their value reflected in your life? 2/3 of the world doesn’t know Jesus Christ; They are starving and wounded outside the gates of the Church. Do you bring them scraps of truth? Tastes of Christian love? Glimpses of Catholic beauty? Do you pursue chances to serve God and neighbor, or do you only serve when it’s convenient? Do you compete to grow in your knowledge of our infinite faith?

We must beware, lest we become proof of Abraham’s warning that even rising from the dead won’t convince the complacent. Moses and the prophets weren’t enough to persuade the rich man to live for the sake of eternity. In our case someone did rise from the dead, Jesus Christ. If that doesn’t convince us to avoid complacency, I don’t know what will.