September 25, 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time: 1 Timothy 6:6-19; Luke 16:19-31

This week’s Gospel reading sets up a contrast that feels uncomfortably close to home. I live and work in the shadow of a large suburban shopping area. When people ask where we’re located, I often respond with our proximity to IKEA or to the largest indoor mall in Illinois. We’re within 15 minutes of pretty much anything you might want to purchase. The rich man, in his purple and his fine linen, lives up the street from me; I can see Lazarus at his gate from where I sit.

Before I lived here, I shopped here. (By shopped I mean I combed the clearance racks.) I would drive from across town and see only the veneer of high-end stores, well-lit shopping centers, and indulgent restaurants. Now, however, I follow a Bentley to work and pass bicyclists with the whole of their possessions on their back. At our church just down the road from a Jaguar dealership, I administer the congregation’s financial assistance fund, serving those in need who wait at the gates.

These verses of Luke contain vivid details, from the sore-licking dogs to the dialogue between the rich man and Abraham. We can hear the man’s clamor for a drop of water, his begging for a merciful messenger for his brothers. We can see the bone-clinging flesh of Lazarus, the sores that never healed. I think we’re meant to flinch when we read or hear these verses.