This cannot be ignored anymore.

The cries of the children are reaching the open windows of heaven. The tears of the widows are collecting in pools at the foot of the cross. The dying cry out for relief, but no one gives them comfort.

The comfortable change the television channel.

This cannot be ignored anymore.

It is our world. These people are our brothers and sisters.

The parable has been turned on its head. The servant given five talents has buried them all in the sand, next to his hidden head.

The servant given three talents looks the other way, and whistles as he walks past the fresh graveyard.

The servant with one talent is coughing up blood in a dusty village.

The master returns and demands to know why the first servant didn't help the third.

He sings a reply:
"We have our own sick to heal
We have our own debts to pay
We have our own shopping to do
There's a sale at Sears and all
Home electronics are half off."

The master, in his righteous fury, cracks the whip and turns over the table displays of the newest HDTV and the shelves of cashmere sweaters. Above the clatter of shopping carts being steered fearfully away, the master cries, "My kingdom was to be a New Jerusalem, but you have made it a shopping mall."

The comfortable get up to grab a snack from the fridge.

This cannot be ignored anymore.

If any man claims to love God, but does not love his dying brother, then he is a LIAR, and the love of God is not in him.

They are our brothers and sisters, dying in abject poverty.

The comfortable go to church, fill their pews, and sing their hymns, in awe of the pretty lights projected on the velvet curtain.

And the right and righteous reverend stands and bleats, "All we like goats have grazed ourselves into stupor. We have each turned inward to follow our self-interest. And the Lord has laid on us the guilt of our own inactions."

Then the heavens opened up and a voice like thunder cried,

"Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.'

The goats in people clothes will answer, "Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?"

"I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me."

The comfortable squirm in their seats.

This cannot be ignored anymore.

Listen.

Listen.

Help them.

Help them.

Help them.