Mass at Santa Marta – A name or an adjective

Are we open to others and capable of mercy,
or do we live locked up within ourselves, slaves to our selfishness? On
Thursday morning, 25 February, the Gospel parable of the rich man and Lazarus
(Lk 16:19-31), presented in the day’s Liturgy, guided Pope Francis in a
reflection on the quality of Christian life. Referring also to the entrance
antiphon (taken from Psalm 139[138]:23-24), the Pontiff emphasized the
importance of asking the Lord for “the grace to know” whether we are “on the
path of lies or on the path of life”.

Francis
explained that we are in the wake of the reflection that, in previous days,
spoke of “the religion of doing” and the “religion of talking”. He drew
inspiration from two Gospel characters, the rich man, described as a man who
was “clothed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day”.
The characterization might seem a bit contrived, but it means to show us a
person who “had it all, every opportunity”. Compared to him there is “a poor
man named Lazarus” at his gate, “full of sores, who desired to be fed with what
fell from the rich man’s table; moreover the dogs came and licked his sores”.

The
Pope analyzed the description of the characters and pointed out that the rich
man, “who is seen in the final dialogue with Father Abraham”, was a “man of
faith”, who had “studied the law, knew the commandments” and who “surely went
every Sabbath to the Synagogue and once a year to Temple”. In short, he really
was “a man who had a certain religiosity”. At the same time the Gospel
narrative shows that he was also “a closed man, locked up inside his own little
world, the world of banquets, clothes, vanity, friends”. Closed within his
“bubble of vanity”, he “did not have the capacity to look beyond it” and did
not “realize what was happening outside of his closed world”. For example, “he
did not think about the needs of many people or of sick people’s need of
company”. Instead he thought only of himself, “of his wealth, of his good life:
he was given to the good life”. He was, said the Pontiff, concluding his
analysis, a “seemingly religious” man. He was, in fact, a perfect example “of
the religion of talking”. The rich man “did not know the peripheries, he was
completely locked up within himself”. Yet the periphery was “close to the door
of his house”, but “he did not know it”. This, Francis explained, “is the path
of lies”, from which, in the antiphon, we asked the Lord to free us.

From
this description, the Pontiff expanded on the interior analysis of the rich
man, a person who “trusted only in himself, in his things”, and “did not trust
in God”. He was a long way from the “blessed man who trusts in the Lord”, who
is contrasted in the Responsorial Psalm, taken from Psalm 1. “What legacy”, the
Pope asked, “did this man leave?”. Surely, he said, again quoting the
Responsorial Psalm, he is not “like a tree planted by streams of water”, but
rather “like the chaff which the wind drives away” (Ps 1:3, 4).

This
man had a family; he had brothers. The Gospel narrative recounts that he asked
Father to send someone to caution them: “Stop, this is not the path!”. But he
died, Francis explained, and “he did not leave a legacy, he did not leave life,
because he was only closed within himself”.

The
Pontiff emphasized that the aridity of this life was accentuated by a
particular detail: in speaking about this man, the Gospel “does not say what
his name was; it only says that he was a rich man”. This detail is significant,
because “when your name is only an adjective, it is because you have lost:
you’ve lost substance, you’ve lost strength”. One might say: “this person is
rich, this one is powerful, this one can do anything, this one is a career
priest, a career bishop…”. It often happens, the Pope continued, that we
begin to “designate people with adjectives, not with names, because they do not
have substance”. This was the reality of the rich man in the day’s reading.

At
this point Francis asked a question: “Didn’t God who is Father, have mercy on
this man? Didn’t he knock at his heart in order to move him?”. The answer:
“Yes, he was at the door, he was at the door, in the person of Lazarus”.
Lazarus: this man has a name. Lazarus, the Pope added, “with his needs and his
miseries, his disease, was actually the Lord who was knocking at the door, so
that this man would open his heart and mercy could enter”. Instead, the rich
man “didn’t see”, because “he was closed”, and “for him there was nothing
beyond the door”.

The
Gospel passage, the Pontiff said, is helpful to all of us at the midpoint of
the Lenten journey, in order to raise a few questions: “Am I on the path of
life or on the path of lies? How many locks do I still have on my heart? Where
is my joy: in doing or talking?”. Moreover, is my joy “in going outside of
myself in order to meet others, in order to help”, or “is my joy in having
everything organized, locked up inside myself?”.

As
we consider all of this, Pope Francis concluded, “let us ask the Lord” for the
grace “to always see the Lazarus who knocks at our heart” and for the grace to
“go outside of ourselves with generosity, with an attitude of mercy, so that
God’s mercy can enter our heart”.