On Wealth and Poverty
St. John Chrysostom
Review by Derek Cook
St. John Chrysostom was a popular priest and preacher who lived in the Syrian city of Antioch from 350 – 401 AD, shortly after Christianity was declared the official religion of the Roman Empire. The book On Wealth and Poverty is a collection of six sermons he preached on the parable of the rich man and Lazarus that appears in the Christian gospels. I am fascinated by how the insights about poverty he presents in these sermons still resonate 1,650 years later.
The parable of the rich man and Lazarus is one of Christ’s parables that provides moral insight and instruction relating to compassion and justice. In the parable, there is a poor man “Lazarus” who is ill, afflicted by sores, and desperately poor. He lies at the gate of a rich man who walks past him every day but does not pay him any attention. Eventually both die and enter the afterlife. In the parable, the poor man Lazarus receives comfort and rest, while the rich man is tormented and begs for relief and mercy, but none is given. In the end, the plight of the rich man and Lazarus is reversed.
St. John Chrysostom takes this parable as a starting point to explore the condition of poverty in a way that is poignant and highly relevant still. In assessing the condition of Lazarus, he discusses the many layers of deprivation that Lazarus experienced, ones that are still present and experienced by people living in poverty today. The layers of deprivation are:
1. Invisibility. Although Lazarus lies directly where the rich man would have to pass by to come and go each day, he pays no attention to Lazarus, apparently acting as if he didn’t exist. While he does not offer any help to Lazarus, neither does he demand that Lazarus leave. He simply refuses to even see him or acknowledge that he is there at all. The first deprivation then is, deeper than an obvious lack of empathy from the rich man, an utter failure to recognize his existence as a human being.
2. Defencelessness. Not only does the rich man fail to provide any aid to Lazarus, neither does anyone else. While other people do acknowledge his presence – they see him at the rich man’s gate, they also ignore his plight. In the parable, even the dogs provide comfort to him by licking his sores, but no people. More importantly, according to St. John Chrysostom, neither does anyone advocate on his behalf. The lack of people willing to not only protect but defend Lazarus is the second critical deprivation.
3. Isolation. What compounded the condition of Lazarus was his lack of connection with others who shared his poverty. Not only did none of those in a position of privilege or comfort come to his aid, he also had no peers with whom he could commiserate. He suffered in silence, completely alone.
4. Proximity. While the condition of poverty is difficult for Lazarus to endure, it is made worse, St. John Chrysostom argues, by Lazarus’ proximity to wealth and luxury. It is the vast inequality between them that aggravates the situation. This argument resembles the current debate about absolute or relative poverty, suggesting that it is one’s position relative to others that is often the more difficult aspect of material deprivation.
5. Injustice: In the parable, we are presented with a rich man who lives his life in cruelty and inhumanity. Yet, this person is apparently rewarded for this cruelty and inhumanity with comfort and luxury. While this offends our sense of natural justice, observing this must have been particularly difficult for Lazarus who was reportedly a virtuous person. Why bad things happen to good people and vice versa is a question that continues to trouble our conscience and politics today.
6. Reputation. Finally, Lazarus’ condition was made worse by the blame and shame heaped on him by others who slandered his reputation. The belief was that he was poor because of some fault or sin of his that led to his poverty as a punishment. This belief was the mirror image of the injustice discussed above, where people may have assumed that the prosperity of the rich man was due to some uprightness, which we eventually see is the furthest from the truth.
In reflecting on St. John Chrysostom’s insights some 1,650 years later, we recognize each of these dimensions of poverty in our present time and place. Today, those who struggle in poverty are still often invisible and without people willing to come to their aid or advocate on their behalf. Then as now, material poverty too is compounded by social isolation and loneliness. This sense of isolation continues to be exacerbated by extreme levels of inequality that seem to be growing exponentially. Equally, poverty is a condition of injustice where material wealth is often unrelated to the moral position of those with power and privilege, while those who are poor continue to be blamed for their situation.
So, what does this tell us about how we should approach poverty in our time? I think it challenges us first, to SEE those who are experiencing poverty. When we are approached by someone who may ask us for some change – do we ignore them as if they aren’t there? Or can we at least stop and ask them their name, whether or not we have or are willing to share anything with them?
Equally, are we willing to stand up and speak on behalf of those who have been marginalized? Do we raise our voices publicly in defense of migrants or persons with disabilities or others when their rights or livelihoods are being threatened? Do we let the voices of NIMBYism have sway when a shelter is proposed in our neighbourhoods, or do we actively welcome those from the margins and say: “Yes in my backyard”?
As our societies become more and more unequal, divided along lines of race and class and gender, do we speak out for actions by our governments and businesses that will lessen that inequality? Are we willing to pay a bit more for what we desire or need so that others can be paid a living wage? Are we willing to accept slightly higher taxes so that those relying on income supports can live with a level of human dignity?’
Finally, will we continue to blame those who are poor for their poverty and make the false distinctions between the “deserving” and the “undeserving”? Or can we accept that poverty frequently has little to do with the character of a person and more to do with the circumstances a person has been forced to navigate and is making the best decisions that they can in very difficult situations? And, in humility, can we acknowledge that any one of us could equally find ourselves in such situations too?
In the end, St. John Chrysostom reveals a truth that is apparently timeless: that poverty is deeper than a lack of money or possessions – it is a condition of multiple levels of social deprivation that erode one’s dignity and humanity. As in the parable, the failure to assure that dignity and humanity reveals a poverty in all of us. Any true response to poverty then must start with our recognition of the fundamental dignity and humanity of all people. This is the foundation of both compassion and justice.