An answer for the rich. Start crying, weep for the miseries that are coming to you. Your wealth is all rotting, your clothes are all eaten up by moths. All your gold and your silver are corroding away, and the same corrosion will be your own sentence, and eat into your body. It was a burning fire that you stored up as your treasure for the last days. Labourers mowed your fields, and you cheated them – listen to the wages that you kept back, calling out; realise that the cries of the reapers have reached the ears of the Lord of hosts. On earth you have had a life of comfort and luxury; in the time of slaughter you went on eating to your heart’s content. It was you who condemned the innocent and killed them; they offered you no resistance.
2nd Reading for the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time
We get the answer… Oh boy, do we get the answer, but what is the question?
- What am I?
- How do I matter?
- How can I matter?
What is your question?
Brookwood Cemetery. (c) 2005, Allen Morris