Today’s Scripture Readings

‘There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.” But Abraham said, “Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.” He said, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.” Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” He said, “No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” He said to him, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.”’

As a Religious Sister, I am often required to enter the sacred space of apostolic, compassionate listening. This is a learning process, and I aim to be open in my listening without the intention of responding, fixing, or advising. Rather, I try to see the person so that I might be present, accompany them, and receive them in love.

In this journey, I have noticed something subtle, yet painful: the tendency, even among religious people, to respond to others’ stories by telling their own or by telling a ‘better’ story. This may come from a good place, but it often leaves the other person feeling smaller or unseen, perhaps even increasing their suffering.

In today’s Gospel, we hear the cry for compassion: first from Lazarus in life, longing for scraps; then from the rich man in eternity, longing for relief. Yet even in his suffering, the rich man fails to truly see Lazarus as a person. His heart remains untouched.

Henri Nouwen, who lived deeply as God’s beloved and ministered as a wounded healer, once wrote, ‘Listening is a form of spiritual hospitality.’ Similarly, Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us that ‘deep listening can relieve the suffering of another.’ One hour of compassionate presence can do more than a thousand well-meaning words.

The call today is simple but profound: Who is longing to be heard? Who lies at ‘my gate’, silently waiting for someone to notice? Kay Lindahl wrote: ‘Being heard is so close to being loved that for the average person they are almost indistinguishable.’

Lord Jesus, form in me a heart that listens with compassion. Teach me the grace of holy, silent listening. May my presence be a healing space for others. Amen.