This is the edited text for the Homily for the Solemn Mass of Twenty-Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time (Year C) St Mary’s Cathedral, Sydney, 28 September 2025.
Sixty-seven episodes were screened of the reality TV series The Secret Millionaire in the UK (2006-12), 25 in America, eight in Ireland and eight more in Australia, ours voiced over by Russell Crowe. The show invited self-made entrepreneurs and other wealthy people to step out of their comfort zones and live for a time as the poor do. Trading abundance for modest means, they lived for a week or so amongst the disadvantaged to experience what they experience and to find someone to whom they would make a very substantial donation.
The show was intended to be transformative, opening the eyes of the privileged participants and onlookers to the plight of the less well off, and bringing rich and poor together. But it also served to highlight the vast gulf that exists between this world’s haves and have-nots.
In a recent interview Pope Leo XIV noted that corporate CEOs now regularly earn hundreds of times the income of their workers, with Tesla planning soon to make CEO Elon Musk the world’s first trillionaire. The Holy Father rightly pointed out that such disparities are ethically troubling and socially dangerous. Mr Musk responded by accusing the pope of hypocrisy. So wide and entrenched is the chasm between the affluent and disadvantaged in some places, it would require more than a TV drama or papal admonition to provoke much sympathy for the poor, including those for whom we pray on this 111th World Day of Migrants and Refugees.
Today we heard Jesus’ great provocation in The Parable of Dives and Lazarus (Lk 16:19-31). Like our TV millionaires, this rich man normally lived in a palatial home, with fashion clothes and gourmet food, impervious to the struggles not only of far-away strangers but also of poor neighbours, not only of those who suffer in silence but even those whose plight was ‘in his face’. Poor Lazarus was not hidden in a distant slum or refugee boat, but right there on the man’s doorstep, and the sores all over his body told the story of his malnutrition loud and clear.
From what happens next, it’s clear Dives was acquainted with Lazarus—well enough, at least, to know his name. Now being tormented in Hades, he begs Father Abraham to send Lazarus down from Heaven to relieve his sufferings and warn his family. Yet even something as shocking as hellfire is not enough to change the Rich Man’s attitude to the poor: rather than treating him as a brother, he only considers how Lazarus might be useful to Dives & Co. Blindness to the poor man’s dignity in life is only hardened in death. Abraham’s response is chilling: “You had it easy while Laz had it hard; now he it’s his turn to be comfortable, while you get your just deserts.”
Abraham’s rebuke echoes the prophecy of Amos: woe to you rich, lying on ivory beds or sprawling on lounges, gorging on aged wagyu and bottles of Grange, using the best cosmetics and the rest, while caring nothing for the desolation of your own people (Amos 6:1,4-7)! Yet as we heard in last Sunday’s Gospel (Lk 16:1-13), the ‘children of this world’ rightly use their money, even if it is tainted, to serve their interests and relationships. Like Jesus, Amos is troubled not by wealth itself, nor even by disparities of wealth per se; what troubles him is self-indulgence and complacency, insensitivity to people’s suffering, and failing to do anything about it. Comfort, security, leisure, even luxury, are not evil in themselves; indeed, we rightly wish the poor had more of them all. But the spiritual dangers are real: an inflated sense of our own deserving, a materialism that knows the price of everything and the value of nothing, an indifference to those in need, neglect even of those suffering nearby.
It’s not just the uber rich who have to be on guard against these things: all of us, at one time or another, are guilty of being so caught up in our own concerns, our own plans, comforts and securities, that we fail to attend to other people’s needs. Distraction and self-absorption are universal temptations, capturing our souls by stealth, and making us self-satisfied with doing too little for others. So, too, active compassion for the needy is about more than redistributing wealth: it requires a change of heart, so we see the needy as our family, our other selves.
If selfishness can afflict us all, and if the consequences are potentially eternal, what are we to do about it? Our epistle unpacks what it means for a person to be dedicated to God and humanity. Paul tells young Timothy to be “saintly and religious, faithful and loving, patient and gentle”, fighting the good fight and standing up for the truth even at the cost of martyrdom (1Tim 6:11-16). The prize for this is heaven “in the bosom of Abraham,” as Jesus’ parable confirms.
A glaring example of such virtue was Pier Giorgio Frassati recently canonised as a saint along with Carlo Acutis. A 24-year-old man, full of faith and fun, he delighted in Holy Communion and the Holy Rosary, he served the poor generously, and he encouraged his peers to practice the faith also. He gave away his shoes to street kids, his time to St Vincent de Paul work, his bus fares and graduation fund to families in need. When his father complained that he’d given his good coat to a beggar in winter, the youth responded, “But Papa, it was cold.” When friends asked why someone from a wealthy family would travel third class on the train, he replied with a smile, “Because there’s no fourth class.” For this sainted youth, there could be no indifference toward those suffering in our midst, no side-stepping or even managing them, for they were children of God, his own beloved family.
I had the privilege of visiting Pier Giorgio’s home in the mountains above Turin with his niece Wanda, seeing his rooms and various relics of his sporting, social and spiritual life, and hearing from those who treasured his memory as a friend of youth and the poor. When his body came to Sydney for World Youth Day in 2008, we installed a pathway of prayer in this cathedral so young people could venerate his relics here. As someone filled with energy and Gospel joy, his faith was contagious, and his Christlike love was finally revealed when, to his family’s astonishment, thousands turned up for his funeral, and the destitute formed his guard of honour. St Pier Giorgio demonstrates that authentic charity can change the receiver but also the giver and even the onlookers, and that in serving the poor we serve none other than Christ Himself.
So, look at yourself in the mirror of our young saint today, or in the story of our parable, and ask: am I more like Dives, blind to Lazarus at my gate, or like Pier Giorgio, with eyes and heart and hands wide open to the needy?
Sts Carlo Acutis and Pier Giorgio Frassati, pray for us.
 St Mary’s Cathedral, Sydney, 28 September 2025.){kind=link}