Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Amos 6:1a, 4–7; Psalm 146 (sung); Luke 16:19–31
The Scots Kirk, Lausanne, September 28 2025
Four months after the late Pope Francis became the bishop of Rome, he made his first official trip outside the eternal city. In July 2013, he went to the island of Lampedusa, the southern-most part of Italy, just over 60 nautical miles from Tunisia. He had been distressed by stories of North African migrants trying to cross the Mediterranean to reach Europe but drowning in the sea.
On an altar made of a painted boat, the pope celebrated a penitential mass to mourn those who lost their lives in search of a better future. He prayed for migrants, living and dead, and denounced the traffickers who put them at risk in boats that “were vehicles of hope but became vehicles of death”.[1]
Pope Francis also took time out to denounce us.
“Today,” he lamented, “no one in our world feels responsible… The culture of comfort, which makes us think only of ourselves, makes us insensitive to the cries of other people, makes us live in soap bubbles which, however lovely, are insubstantial… In this globalized world, we have fallen into globalized indifference.”
“Has any one of us grieved for the death of these brothers and sisters?” he asked. “For the young mothers carrying their babies? For these men who were looking for a means of supporting their families? We are a society that has forgotten how to weep.”
In tribute to the drowned migrants, Francis tossed a wreath into the Mediterranean Sea. He was determined that the world should not forget.
*
Francis was a modern prophet. In eighth-century Israel, Amos was an ancient prophet.
Israel may have been an insignificant kingdom in the northern hill country of Palestine, but it too suffered from a culture of indifference.
We saw last Sunday how Amos denounced the Israelite rich for becoming rich at the expense of the Israelite poor. In today’s reading, he goes a step further. It is not just that the rich are exploiting and oppressing the poor. It is that they don’t care.
Amos sketches the well-being of the ruling class in the capital city of Samaria, that splendid society built upon the misery of the weak and poor. He focuses on their proud self-confidence and then on their extravagant luxury.
“These men,” says James Luther Mays, “are doing too well at creating misfortune for others even to consider the possibility that they may be digging their own graves.” They grind the faces of the poor and are sublimely indifferent to the consequences.[2]
And that is what Amos finds unforgiveable.
*
Amos and the other prophets form the background to the story Jesus tells this morning.
The rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day dies and goes straight to Hades, where he is tormented.
“Well, of course,” say those who hear the story.
Lying at his gate is a poor man named Lazarus, who longs to satisfy his hunger with the bread the rich man and his guests wipe their hands with and then throw on the floor. But not even this is given to him. When he dies he is carried away to be with Abraham. He who could not eat the leavings of the rich now reclines at table with Abraham in a position of honour and feasts with him in the kingdom of God.
“Well, of course,” say the hearers.
The name “Lazarus” means “God helps.” Lazarus may be poor and miserable, but God is on his side precisely because he is poor and miserable.
The rich man does not care about Lazarus. He does not even notice his existence. Lazarus lies outside his gate, out of sight, out of mind. This is the rich man’s crowning failure. So imprisoned is he in his wealth, and the enjoyment of his wealth, that he cannot see Lazarus. He cannot see the poor. And that is why he is a complete failure as a human being.
*
The Christianity in which I was raised more than half a century ago focused on what happens to us when we die. This is not what most concerns much of our Bible.
My favourite quote from the Northern Irish troubles is a question painted on the side of a house: Is there life before death? What concerns the Bible, what concerns Jesus and prophets such as Amos is how we live and what we do before we die.
Amos says that those who lie on beds inlaid with ivory, drink from great bowls, and anoint themselves with the finest oils, aren’t just failing to live as God would have them live. They are failing to live, full stop.
Jesus says that the rich man, expensively dressed in the latest fashions, wasting his days in conspicuous consumption, is wasting his life.
This is not to be human, they say. This is not what it means to be human.
*
On the east bank of the Jordan, as the Israelites are about to enter the promised land, Moses challenges them. “Look here,” he says, “today I’ve set before you life and what’s good versus death and what’s wrong… I call heaven and earth to witness against you that I have set before you today life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him, for that means life to you and length of days.” (Deuteronomy 30:15-20)
Moses is not talking about what happens to us when we die. Moses, Amos, and Jesus are interested in our choices here and now.
*
Among the commandments Moses sets before the Israelites in the books of the law is the commandment, “Thou shalt not kill”.
I don’t imagine we lie awake much at night thinking about this commandment. Not many of us in the Scots Kirk, Lausanne, are serial axe-murderers. At least, I hope not.
But it’s worth thinking about.
Writes Herbert McCabe, “The commandment says not merely that you must not actually murder but that you must care that people get killed. You must not be indifferent to blood. You must not carry on the old traditional respectable life while in the back streets the police are shooting down the poor.”[3]
In today’s terms: We must not carry on coming complacently to the Scots Kirk while turning a blind eye to the genocide that for almost two years now, Israel has been committing in Gaza, with the unblinking support of our rulers in the West.[4]
We may be at a loss to know what exactly to do about this genocide. I know I am. But as a minimum, we must care.
*
In October 2013, three months after Pope Francis paid his visit to Lampedusa, 368 people lost their lives when their boat was shipwrecked just a few miles from the island.
The Protestant churches in Italy – a tiny minority in a sea of Catholics, real or nominal – responded by setting up a project called Mediterranean Hope.
Mediterranean Hope works with local communities, churches, and civil society to support migrants in their rights to move freely, seek protection, and determine for themselves how they shall live. It is doing difficult and controversial work.
Mediterranean Hope is this year’s mission project in the presbytery of international charges, twelve congregations in Europe and beyond of which we are one, our sister congregation ,the Church of Scotland Geneva, a second, and St Andrew’s Scots Kirk, Colombo, a third.
Earlier this month, Fiona Kendall, who works for the Church of Scotland with this project, spoke about it on Zoom. We may have missed that. But we have a second chance on October 14, when Fiona will speak again. To register, email Fiona at fkendall@churchofscotland.org.uk. Or, if you have a memory like mine, ask Alice Goodman of this congregation for details.
*
In his last speech before he entered the conclave that made him pope, Francis quoted the book of Revelation. “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in and eat with you, and you with me.” (Revelation 3:20)
In today’s church, Francis suggested, the problem is more that Jesus is knocking at the door of the church, asking to be let out.[5]
We can think about the church in one of two ways. We can embrace a Christian narcissism, in which God is concerned above all with us, and so settle for a church that lives “in itself, of itself, for itself”. Or we can recognize that just as the Father sends the Son and the Holy Spirit into all the world, so too the Father sends us into all the world for the sake of the world.
Are we willing to open the door and let Jesus out? Are we willing, having let him out, then to follow him wherever he may lead us?
Are we willing – are we even able – to see the poor?
[1] Homily, Arena sports camp, Salina Quarter, Monday, July 8 2013
[2] James Luther Mays, Amos. Old Testament Library (London: SCM Press, 1969), 114ff.
[3] Herbert McCabe, Law, Love and Language (London: Sheed and Ward, 1968), 121
[4] Omer Bartov, “I’m a Genocide Scholar. I Know It When I See It”, New York Times, July 15 202; “Israel has committed genocide in the Gaza Strip, UN Commission finds”, September 16 2025
[5] Sandro Magister, “The last words of Bergoglio before the conclave”, Chiesa, March 27 2013