Twenty-Third Sunday of Ordinary Time: Love for the Poor

This is the second of five consecutive weeks from the Letter of James. In the New Testament there are at least three men known as James, making it confusing to distinguish who’s who. One is an apostle and brother of John, ‘the sons of Zebedee’. Sometimes known as James the Greater, he is the patron saint of our archdiocese, and his tomb serves as the destination for pilgrims on the Camino to Santiago de Compastela. Then there’s James the son of Alphaeus, or James the Lesser, who other than being listed among the twelve apostles, little else is known about him.

Then there’s a third James: sometimes called James of Jerusalem, and referred to as Jesus’ relative in another part of the scriptures (Gal 1:19). One ancient source says that he was the first bishop of Jerusalem. It’s believed that this is most likely the James who authored the letter we’re reading over these five weeks. A prominent theme in this letter is our responsibility to care for our neighbor, especially the poor.

If it seems that I speak more about cultivating holiness than I do about caring for the poor, the reason is that we live in a culture that strongly embraces care for the poor and vulnerable, whether it’s through the checkout stand at Safeway, asking us to support the hungry through our local agencies; or solicitations that come in the mail, asking us to support our disadvantaged veterans; or the projects at most every high school, supporting a partnering community within a developing nation.

Caring for the poor has always been a Christian imperative, so much that we’ve been influential on society to where caring for the needy has become part of our cultural DNA. But have you ever wondered why non-religious people or those who don’t believe in God partake in these endeavors? I don’t know, but perhaps while seeing people suffer makes them feel bad, helping them makes them feel good. Nothing wrong with that, and there may well be other reasons.

But why do Christians do it? I suggest that we do it for three principal reasons. First, because Jesus cared greatly about those who suffered, and we are called to live like him. Secondly, because he tells us that the more we lift up our brothers and sisters, the more we make present the Kingdom of God. But third, because he makes it clear, that it is him we experience in those we help: “Whatever you did for one of these least of mine, you did for me” (Mt 25:40).

In the coming days (Sept 13th) we will celebrate the feast day of a great saint: John Chrysostom, Archbishop of Constantinople, who died in the year 407. If you’ve been in my office, you’ve likely seen the painting of him on my wall, which I received as a gift[1]. The painting shows the archbishop perched high in a pulpit of an ancient church building known as the Magna Ecclesia (the Great Church), the predecessor to the Hagia Sophia, the architectural marvel that still stands in Istanbul, Turkey.

The image shows St. John standing almost eye to eye with the principal subject of his preaching, the Empress Eudoxia. dressed in stately splendor, she’s shown seated in something akin to a theater box, apart from any common-folk. Everything about John’s posture and the profile of his face reveals whatever anger was coming through in his words. His left arm, with hand clenched in anger, is extended upward toward her, as she stands stoically before him, bearing the same of his public rebuke.

John frequently said—and he would say it to us—that all this beauty in this space and the communal expression of prayer that we offer, all for God, is a good and beautiful thing for sure, but only if it leads us out to care for Christ in the streets: in the poor, the hungry, imprisoned, the afflicted. Otherwise, this building and all we do within it is empty of meaning.

Eudoxia was just one of the many powerful and wealthy people who came to regard John Chrysostom as an enemy, as he spoke out against their extravagances, that he believed came at the cost of exploiting the poor and ignoring their essential needs.

Supporting our parish Mission Statement—which states the purpose for our parish’s existence—are four Core-Values that help us to stay true to that purpose, one of which is service–service to our brothers sisters, both local and abroad.

In this parish, we reach out in many ways, despite the fact that you have mortgages, tuition expenses, many mouths to feed and likely a tight budget—you are very generous. But again, Jesus would say, “That’s great, thank you for being generous, but now take the next step”. And maybe that next step is not necessarily giving more money, but connecting with the poor in other ways. It can be so easy for us to separate ourselves from all those unpleasant realities that we associate with those who are needy. I know our Lord challenges me in this.

Today, September 5th, would ordinarily mark the memorial of St. Teresa of Calcutta, who powerfully showed us what responding to the poor looks like. But more than just responding to hunger or poverty, she was focused principally on demonstrating love. Mother Teresa believed that more than hunger for food, people were starved for love.

Again, a fundamental part of the Good News is the reality that the people who don’t matter to anyone, matter greatly to God. So other than people we’ve known all our lives—family members and friends—Do you know even one person personally who lives destitute? Would any such people identify you as their friend? Would any such persons claim to have experienced God’s love through you? If the answer is no, I suspect our Lord is calling you to something more.

[1] Saint John Chrysostom and the Empress Eudoxia by Jean-Paul Laurens (1838-1921, France)