If you're like me, you see a lot of needy people every day. I mean, I live in a small town, and I still see people panhandling and living on the streets. And while I may not see the hungry and the poor, I know they are here.
We have a food bank that is always in need of food, and a soup kitchen that is always in need of volunteers. Then there are those in need of emotional support more than financial support - people struggling with mental illness, disabilities and addictions.
We know that God calls us to reach out to the neediest members of our communities. But this challenge can be overwhelming. Where do we start? There are needy people in just about every community, and in every neighborhood.
In today's Gospel reading Jesus tells the story of Lazarus, a wounded beggar who sits outside a wealthy man's home, begging for pennies or scraps of food. The rich man routinely ignores Lazarus. Jesus says that when both men die, and the rich man is in torment while Lazarus rests in "the bosom of Abraham," the rich man will regret his choices. "Father Abraham, have pity on me," the rich man cries.
"My child," Abraham replies, "remember that you received what was good during your lifetime while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented."
When we are overwhelmed with the needs that surround us, we often do nothing because we don't know where to start. Jesus suggests that our task is not to aid every needy person in the world. We can start with the ones we see in the course of our daily lives - a homeless person on your way to work, or a human services agency in your community.
We don't have to save everyone. We are challenged to help someone. If we don't, we risk greater and greater separation from the love of God.
It is not always easy in this age of economic uncertainty to be generous with what we have. I tend to worry about my own security first, and make sure that this is taken care of before giving to others. The problem is that even with a comfortable lifestyle I rarely feel financially secure. Just as the needs around us can be overwhelming, so can the prospect of taking care of a family for 18 years. How can I give to others when I can't figure out how I'll pay for my children's education in the future?
Well, it seems to me that I'm not promised the future. I am responsible for how I behave in the present. Am I generous to the needy at all? As a friend of mine says, "Jesus calls us to give to the needy but he doesn't say how much."
The rich man gave Lazarus nothing from his wealth. Perhaps he too was worried about his financial security. But he wasn't terribly worried about his spiritual health. I can give a little bit, and every little bit will enlarge my heart. Bill Peatman writes from Napa.
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