Brief synopsis of the readings: Our first reading continues from Amos. Amos continues to call out those who lie “on ivory beds and sprawling in their divans, they dine on lambs from the flock, and stall-fattened veal.” He further states: “That is why they will be the first to be exiled.” Luke’s Gospel tells the story of a rich man “who used to dress in purple and fine linen and feast magnificently every day. And at his gate there lay a poor man called Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to fill himself with the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table. Dogs even came and licked his sores.” Both died and while Lazarus “was carried away by the angels to the bosom of Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried.” But unlike Lazarus, the rich man experienced torment in Hades. He desperately begged Abraham to send Lazarus “to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in agony in these flames.” Abraham responded by telling the rich man that his request was impossible as “between us and you a great gulf has been fixed, to stop anyone, if he wanted to, crossing from our side to yours, and to stop any crossing from your side to ours.” The rich man then begged Abraham to send Lazarus to his five brothers and warn them to avoid this torment. But Abraham refused, telling him that if “they will not listen either to Moses or to the prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone should rise from the dead.”

Last week I spoke at length about Amos as the prophet of social justice. Today’s readings continue the same theme but I wish to drill down and concentrate on one aspect of today’s readings. When we acknowledge our good fortune we can respond with either entitlement or gratitude.

I argued on behalf of gratitude over entitlement because that’s our call as Christians. Today I wish to show how entitlement not only places us further away from God, but it also places us further from each other.

This runs against most of our narratives: we don’t know the name of the rich man but we do know the name of the poor man (Lazarus). Perhaps the only person who knew the name of the rich man was Lazarus himself. In any case, the rich man clearly had the better life. Purple linen was incredibly expensive and reseved only for the wealthiest and at a time when starvation was common, only a few had enough food to pass along scraps. Clearly this rich man enjoyed not only the best that his society had to offer, he had the luxury of not seeing those who didn’t. He knew nothing of Lazarus.

But Lazarus certainly knew all about the rich man. He begged out of desperation and his desperate condition showed how little he meant to the rich man. As many of you know, I work for hospice. People in the last stages of their lives often can’t eat or get the nutrition they need. We often worry about skin breakdown (bedsores) because they are bedbound and their skin can’t heal because of their lack of nutrition. When Lazarus is “covered with sores” I can’t help but imagine that his sores come at least partly as the result of malnutrition.

And if that weren’t enough to be starving, Lazarus was also invisible. The rich man likely didn’t give any thought to the scraps from his table and even had he been aware of his existence, he may not have fed Lazarus. I know somebody who was homeless in his late teens. He has since gotten back on his feet but I’ll never forget one part of his story. For his own safety he lived on the streets within small groups to protect themselves. For food they would dig through the dumpsters behind a supermarket, looking for food that had passed their expiration dates. But when the store manager found out about this he instructed his workers to pour bleach on the food to prevent anyone from eating it. When asked why he did that he responded that he was afraid that if one of the homeless men got sick they would sue the supermarket.

I think we all thought that was preposterous. More likely the manager found the existence of the homeless distasteful and hoped that by ruining the food he could make the homeless disappear. Fortunately this story is a few decades old and many stores now donate to food shelters.

But this desire to make the poor invisible continues to point an accusing finger at the rest of us. I live in a nice neighborhood and every two weeks we put bins on the curb filled with recyclable bottles, cans, newspapers, etc. Last month I saw a man fishing through these bins in the hopes of getting bottles and cans he can redeem for cash. I didn’t think anything of it until I heard word was getting around the neighborhood and his description was being given to the police. I believe the problem isn’t that he is “stealing bottles and cans” but that his very existence makes us uncomfortable.

I know this is troubling; yet if that weren’t enough, the most troubling part of today’s Gospel comes toward the end. Luke tells us in graphic that while Lazarus’ death brings him to the bosom of Abraham while the rich man is taken to a place of torment.

And even now, even now, the rich man still will not directly address Lazarus. In the midst of his torment when a drop of water on the tip of Lazarus’ finger will quench his suffering, the rich man then addresses Abraham. Rather than humble himself to show his need for relief from a man whose identity he may have known, he instead addressed Abraham. Even in his torment he felt he needed to address someone of like status.

And then, and then, the rich man shows compassion to someone else. But instead of thinking about Lazarus or the rest of the poor, he instead pleads on behalf of his brothers.

So what do we do about this? Clearly this question has walked with us throughout our history. Eight hundred years ago a man named Francis suggested that we become like Lazarus and beg for our needs. And while I have great respect for St. Francis and all he has done, I find that belief unsustainable. I chuckle when I remember the first time I saw a Franciscan wearing his brown robe and white rope around his waist. And the cell phone attached to the rope.

At the end of the day I don’t know if this calls us to change what we do as much as it calls us to change how we feel. We are certainly called to feed Lazarus, but we are also called to recognize Lazarus and acknowledge him. I remember talking with a friend a few years ago. He isn’t much for New Year’s Resolutions but he told me this: “I commonly see people standing on the island at intersections with cardboard signs asking for money. Sometimes I can give something and sometimes I can’t. But I pledged that even when I couldn’t give them money or food, I could at least promise to pray for them. I have to say that my acknowledgement and promise immediately registers with them and they thank me. A few have even promised to pray for me.”

At the beginning of this homily I spoke about the difference between entitlement and gratitude. My friend has pledged gratitude and that gratitude has moved him to see what was previously invisible. He likes to think that if he’s ever in the place of the rich man, Lazarus will intervene with Abraham. And that’s how the Kingdom of God is built: when we all know each other’s names.