First Reading – Amos 6:1a, 4-7; Second Reading – 1Timothy 6:11-16; Gospel – Luke 16:19-31
The story is told of a Franciscan monk in Australia who was asked to assist Mother Teresa during her visit. Thrilled at the chance to learn from such a holy woman, he imagined deep conversations and precious wisdom. Yet all through her visit he barely had a moment alone with her. Finally, as she prepared to board her next flight, he blurted out, “Mother, if I pay my own fare to New Guinea, can I sit beside you so I can talk and learn from you?”
Mother Teresa looked at him and asked, “You have the money for a ticket?”
“Yes,” he said eagerly.
“Then give that money to the poor,” she replied. “You will learn more from that than anything I can tell you.”
Mother Teresa understood Jesus’ heart: to love and serve the poor. And she knew the lesson isn’t learned in words but in action.
Today’s readings issue the same challenge. They warn that using God’s blessings only for us—whether money, influence, or comfort—while ignoring the suffering around us is not just unfortunate. It is sin. The prophet Amos calls out those who live in luxury while the needy languish. Jesus tells of the rich man who never noticed Lazarus at his gate.
Notice: the rich man wasn’t punished for beating Lazarus or shouting at him. His sin was deadly indifference. He stepped over a suffering neighbour day after day and did nothing. That silence, that blindness, was his downfall.
Friends, we might think, I’m not that rich man. But look at our world:
- Billions live on less than a few Pounds a day while we scroll past images of famine and war.
- Refugees crowd border camps while we debate policy.
- In our own cities, people sleep in doorways we pass on the way to work or school.
Too often we avert our eyes. We might not kick the poor—but we do not really see them. That is indifference. And indifference is the very sin Jesus warns about.
It’s not wrong to work hard or enjoy the fruits of our labour. God delights in our well-being. But when comfort blinds us to need, when possessions quietly convince us we are self-sufficient, we begin to forget both God and neighbour. That is when wealth—of money, time, or talent—becomes dangerous.
Each of us is rich in some way: maybe with steady income, good health, education, a network of friends, or simply the ability to listen and encourage. The question is not if we are blessed, but what we do with those blessings?
The Gospel makes sharing the very measure of the Last Judgment:
“I was hungry, and you gave me food… I was a stranger, and you welcomed me.”
It’s not a metaphor. It’s the test.
Pope St. John Paul II once said the parable of the rich man and Lazarus “must form our conscience.” Openness to the poor cannot be token gestures or spare change. It must be real choices that cost us something.
So, what does that mean for us this week?
- Maybe it’s noticing the lonely neighbour and bringing a meal or a ride.
- Maybe it’s supporting fair trade or ethical businesses even when cheaper options tempt us.
- Maybe it’s using our voice to challenge systems that exploit workers or despoil the earth.
We can all do something concrete. Because love that remains an idea is not love at all.
Let us ask the Lord for eyes that truly see Lazarus at our gate—on our streets, in our newsfeeds, and sometimes even in our own families. May we have the courage to open our hands and hearts, to give not just what is easy but what is needed.
Then, when Christ comes as our Judge, He will recognise Himself in us—because we have recognised Him in the poor.