Why am I at fault?

Reflections on the 26^th Sunday in Ordinary Time: Amos 6:1a, 4-7; 1 Timothy 6:11-16; Luke 16:19-31

The Rich man argues: Why am I at fault? The gospel records no fraud in my wealth’s acquisition, no explicit command I ignored. Yes, I wore fine linen. What nobleman wouldn’t, given the means? Yes, I feasted sumptuously. It was a reward for my diligence and hard work. And yeah, Lazarus lay at my gate! It was a regrettable sight, certainly, but was his suffering my unique responsibility? Why am I at fault?

1. The Wall and the Virus:

The rich man wasn’t condemned for his wealth but for the wall he built: a wall not just of his grand gate, but of his profound indifference. Lazarus wasn’t invisible; he was placed at the gate. The rich man knew he was there. Yet, Lazarus remained unseen, unfed, uncared for. The Rich man’s fault wasn’t active cruelty but the sin of omission: the failure to see and act with basic human solidarity. Pope Francis, in Fratelli Tutti, warns us precisely about this: “The process of building up... peoples... is obstructed... by the tendency to build walls that enclose and isolate, leaving the rest of the world outside” (n^o27). The rich man’s gate was such a wall.

Pope Francis also identifies a deeper sickness enabling such walls: “Radical individualism is a virus that is extremely difficult to eliminate” (n^o168), a “virus” that makes us “closed in on ourselves” (n^o125). This virus infected the rich man. He saw Lazarus not as a brother in humanity, a child of God worthy of dignity, but as part of the scenery, or worse, an inconvenient nuisance. His life was a carefully curated bubble of luxury (like those condemned by Amos: lounging on ivory couches, feasting on lambs, anointing themselves, oblivious to the "collapse of Joseph"). The suffering at his gate simply didn’t penetrate the walls of his self-absorption. This, Jesus declares, is a fatal spiritual blindness.

2. The Great Reversal:

The parable takes a dramatic turn after the death of Lazarus and the Rich man. The great chasm now fixed isn’t just physical; it’s the eternal consequence of choices made in life. The reversal is shocking: Lazarus, who knew only suffering and neglect, is comforted in Abraham’s bosom. The rich man, who knew only pleasure and ease, is in torment. He hasn’t fundamentally changed, however. Even in Hades, he sees Lazarus not as an equal, but as a potential servant: “Father Abraham... send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue”. Lazarus remains, in his mind, an errand boy. Abraham reminds him of the definitive reversal: “you received your good things... Lazarus... evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony”.

This reversal isn’t arbitrary cruelty; it’s divine justice finally setting the scales right. It fulfills Mary’s Magnificat: "He has cast down the mighty from their thrones and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty" (Lk 1:52-53). Amos prophesied this same reversal to the powerful elite of Israel and Judah, living in decadent security (“lying on beds of ivory... eating lambs... improvising to music”), utterly unconcerned about the “ruin/collapse of Joseph”, the suffering of their own nation. Their complacency and indifference would lead to their downfall. God sees the suffering ignored by the powerful, and justice will prevail. The reversal is a solemn warning that our earthly comfort built on the neglect of others is ultimately a false security.

3. Reading the Signs:

Faced with the reality of his fate, the rich man finally thinks of his brothers still living his old life of oblivious luxury. “Send Lazarus to warn them!” he pleads. Abraham reminds him that they already have the signs: Moses and the prophets, whose call for justice, mercy, and care for the poor and vulnerable echoes constantly in the bible. They had the ultimate sign (God’s living Word) and ignored it. God has spoken clearly through the Law (Moses) and the Prophets! Their call for justice, mercy, and care for the poor and vulnerable was constant. The rich man and his brothers chose not to see, not to hear, not to act. They had the ultimate sign – God's living Word in Scripture – and ignored it. Jesus implies that even His own resurrection, the ultimate sign of God's power and love, will be ignored by those whose hearts are hardened by indifference and self-absorption.

What about us? We have even more: Moses, the Prophets, and the Risen Christ! We have the Gospels, the teachings of the Church, the sacraments, and the constant cry of the poor – the “Lazaruses” at our global gate: refugees fleeing war, families struggling with hunger in our own cities, the lonely elderly, the exploited worker. Are we reading the signs? Or are we, like the rich man and Amos’s audience, too comfortable, too distracted, too individualistic, too walled-in to hear God’s call through their suffering? Do we dismiss the clear teachings of Scripture and the Church on social justice as inconvenient or “political,” rather than recognising them as divine imperatives?

We cannot build walls of comfort and indifference while our brothers and sisters suffer at our gate. The virus of radical individualism is lethal to our souls. The sin of omission (failure to see and act) has eternal consequences, for God’s justice brings a great reversal. Yet, we are not without hope or guidance. We have the ultimate sign: Christ, who conquered death. We have His Word. We have His Church. We have the poor, in whom He dwells. St. Paul’s exhortation to Timothy is our charge: "But you, man of God... pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness. Compete well for the faith." Let us tear down the walls. Let us cure the virus of indifference with the medicine of active love.

Let us open our eyes, our ears, and our hearts to the signs God gives us, especially in the suffering. Let us choose solidarity over isolation, mercy over neglect, and life in Christ over the false security of wealth and walls.