A sermon by Senior Minister John B. McCall, September 30, 2007
Luke 16:19-31
Have you seen Lazarus? He looks like he slept on the street, probably because he did. He pushes a shopping cart filled with all his worldly possessions. She’s the one who speaks Arabic. He’s the one with that far-away stare in his eyes.
He was standing in Deering Oaks with a sign that says he’s a veteran and would work for food. You saw her at the grocery store last week, slipping a can of sardines into her bag.
Have you seen Lazarus? She calls our church frequently to ask for a bag of groceries and some milk for her children. He’s the quiet man who came here to worship a few weeks ago but left feeling out of place.
Lazarus isn’t any particular person. Lazarus is all the people we rush past, ignore, step around, look through or dismiss. Lazarus is everyone we encounter but don’t really see.
It’s not because we’re mean or evil. It’s just that life’s full and busy and we have to draw our circle of concern smaller and smaller to keep it manageable. Lazarus is everyone we’ve pushed outside of the circle.
And we read his story in Luke 16. The whole chapter consists of Jesus’ teach¬ings about possessions. The first part of the chapter is ad¬dressed to followers, with the lesson that they should be shrewd and not naive in the ways of the world. Today’s choices have consequences for the future.
Now Jesus turns to the Pharisees, whom Luke labels “lovers of money.” They were men of position and power. Jesus fashioned the rich man in his parable to represent them. It’s intriguing that Luke records dozens of Jesus’ parables. In all of them only one character is named. It’s Lazarus. This isn’t the same Lazarus as Jesus’ friend whom he raised from the grave – Lazarus the brother of Mary and Martha of Bethany.
The name is important because, ironically, the rich man is nameless while the beggar is named – just the opposite of the way it is in the real world. The name “Lazarus” is important also because it means “God has helped.” At first glance it would appear just the opposite – that God had helped the very rich man and had ignored the very poor man. But Jesus turned the story around and showed his listeners that the possessions we covet the most don’t help us but do the opposite – they stand between us and the kingdom of God.
So, every night the rich man sat comfortably at his table, dressed in a fine robe, and ate his fill. Outside his gate was the beggar Lazarus. The rich man had everything and Lazarus had nothing. He had to fight with marauding dogs just to get a few scraps from the garbage.
Remember the underlying theology here – people believed that the poor suffered because they had displeased God either directly or indirectly; and that the rich man prospered because he was righteousness.
In a classic reversal of fortunes, Lazarus died, went to heaven, and was welcomed by Abraham himself – Patriarch of all the nation of Israel. The rich man died, went to hell and was tor¬mented. He could see Abraham and Lazarus off in the distance, and begged for a drink of water. Abraham said “remember that in life you were comfortable and Lazarus miserable. Here things are the opposite. Besides there is such a great chasm that no one can cross from the one place to the other.” Abraham didn’t need to point out that the rich man had created the chasm himself.
The rich man then thought of others in his family who hadn’t gotten the message: “Father Abraham, I have five brothers – pray send Lazarus to tell them to change their ways so they can be spared what I must suffer.”
To which the Patriarch replied: “They have Moses and the Prophets – if they won’t listen to messengers like these they surely won’t listen to a man raised from the dead.”
Jesus didn’t say “go and do likewise,” or “if you fail to listen to the warning you, too, will suffer the consequences.” He didn’t need to. Those who have hearts to hear will hear.
If we didn’t know better, we might imagine Jesus had a smug look on his face as he scored one for the Man Upstairs. But we know he had only one purpose: to be an agent by which God could transform lives. Remember the words in the Gospel of John, chapter 3, verse 17: “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
Jesus didn’t come to make us miserable, but to save us from ourselves. And in his parable to the Pharisees he pointed out two very important truths:
First: God’s order is not the same as ours. We don’t know how heaven looks. Yet scripture overflows with the teaching that God is radically just and will not forsake the poor and oppressed.
Children of Israel enslaved in Egypt, and children of Africa enslaved in our Southern states, and children enslaved today on city streets all have shared the belief that the suffer¬ing of this world will be balanced by freedom from suffering beyond.
Stories from every faith tradition have said that the world’s order of class and caste and high and low are contrary to the will and nature of God. These parables and tales have gone further, saying the order will be turned upside down in heaven. So Jesus first wanted the Pharisees to remember that God’s justice is the final word.
Second: We know everything we need to know, we just don’t want to know it. God has already given the Word through proph¬ets, apostles and Christ himself, about those things that really matter. If that isn’t enough to persuade us, nothing will be – even a song and dance, traveling road show; even a man raised from the dead. Sudden wonders won’t change the heart when volumes of evidence have done nothing.
Put it another way: God loves all people and will not let injus¬tice prevail. It’s in the laws of Moses and the teaching of the prophets. But if you’re ignoring those witnesses – if you’re a part of the problem and not part of the solution – there’s nothing that’s going to get your attention.
There’s an old story about heaven and hell. A saint was sent by God to visit both. As she approached hell she could hear the wailing, so was surprised to see beautiful gates and beyond them a banquet table laden with food. The people were clean and well dressed — there was no sign of a furnace. But they were strangely shaped. Each had long arms with no joint at the elbow. They could pick up food from the table but couldn’t get the food to their mouths. So they cried in anguish.
Suddenly the old saint was transported to heaven. She was alarmed to see a very similar scene. Banquet tables laden with food — people with long arms that they couldn’t bend. But there were only songs and laughter, no cries of anguish. For here the people of heaven reached across the table and fed each other.
That strikes me as right on. The only difference between heaven and hell is how we treat each other. The pain of poverty is always multiplied by feeling invisible. When someone else sees us, notices us, pays some attention to us, it’s a transforming experience.
But make no mistake: the wisdom of this story is that we who have so much often feel our lives aren’t as rich as outward appearances might suggest. And we can get it right. Barbara Brown Taylor, the Episcopalian priest and author puts it like this:
What they do not seem to know – what we still do not seem to know – is that we are the victims of our own way of life. When we succeed in cutting ourselves off from each other, when we learn how to live with the misery of other people by convincing ourselves that they deserve it, when we defend our own good fortune as God’s blessing and decline to see how our lives are quilted together with the lives of others, then we are all losers. Not because of what God will do to us, but because of what we have done to ourselves. Who do you think fixed that chasm in the story? Was it God or the rich man? Sometimes I think the worst things we have to fear is that God will give us exactly what we want.[Bread of Angels, pg. 112 (Cowley, 1997)cited in Pulpit Resources, Vol. 32, No. 3, 2004.
The world didn’t get turned upside down by the actions of a few, but by the inactions of many over generations.
You and I are not going to turn it right side up all by ourselves. But together, one by one, day by day, we can show Jesus’ transforming love to others:
• each time you bring food for the pantry;
• each time you give a couple of hours to serve at the soup kitchen;
• each time you look a street person in the eye – not with disgust but with compassion;
• each time you visit a neighbor or show kindness to a stranger;
• each time you make a gift to an unknown neighbor through Community Crisis ministries;
• each time you put an offering in the plate for Neighbors in Need…
Each time you see Lazarus rather than seeing through him you’re passing along the life-changing love of God to someone who can pass it on. We who have the privilege of gathering here for worship also have the means to heal many hurts in the world, to reach across the chasm.
Pray that this ancient parable, filled with such simple wisdom, will take root deep in our hearts today.
May the love of God, the peace of Christ, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, dwell in each of us richly.
Amen.