Eighteenth Sunday After Pentecost
Year C, Proper 21
September 30, 2007
All Saints’, Bentonville
Gospel:
Jesus said, "There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, `Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.' But Abraham said, `Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.' He said, `Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father's house-- for I have five brothers-- that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.' Abraham replied, `They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.' He said, `No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.' He said to him, `If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'"
When looking at a parable it is frequently instructive to notice to whom the parable is directed. Who is Jesus talking to? In this case, as we note in verse four leading up to the parable, it is the Pharisees, “lovers of money” as they are described. We are overhearing the conversation. As we examine the gospel reading this morning I would like for each of us to think of who we identify with in the parable, the poor man at the gate, the rich man who passes by, or perhaps the rich man’s brothers, who heard the words of the prophets, but were not convinced.
The lesson from Timothy that we heard this morning, “The love of money is the root of all evil”, compels us to acknowledge that there is a problem with the fact that the great chasm between the rich and the poor, grows wider in our land. It is commonplace in our history to say, “The rich get richer and the poor get poorer.” But in our nation now wealth is accumulating in the hands of very few people, in ways that surpass even the days of the Gilded Age, when the Carnegies, the Rockefellers, the J.P. Morgans ran the railroads, the steel mills, and the banks. But it isn’t so much the disparity in wealth, that Jesus is addressing, but the boundaries that such wealth creates. The rich man, eating sumptuous food, dressed in fine linen, has grown so blind to the presence of hunger and disease around him, that he can pass through his gate each morning and ignore a dying man.
I’m wondering what it would have taken for the rich man to discover Lazarus at his gate. Dr. George Ellis, the recipient of the 2004 Templeton prize, notes that all the great religions share the same moral values. Most interesting, he argues that there are basic ethical principles built in to the very fabric of the universe, in the same mysterious but certain way that the laws of physics are embedded. We don't invent mathematical truths, like pi or E=mc2, he says. We discover them. The same can be said of the ethic of self-giving and self-sacrifice. Every major tradition embodies and expresses some version of this ethic of reciprocity. So it is waiting for the inhabitants of the universe to discover that the quest for money is one that does not bring salvation. As universal as this belief is, it seems that each generation, each community, each individual must discover it anew.
What does it take for us to discover, personally, these universal truths? In Christianity we are taught in a multitude of ways, “Love your neighbor as yourself” or “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” In Islam, "No one of you is a believer until he loves for his brother what he loves for himself." Among Buddhists, "Hurt not others with that which pains yourself." Confuscianism teaches, “"What you do not want done to yourself, do not do to others.” No matter your faith, or culture, this simple rule of reciprocity, this golden rule has been discovered.
But some parables take us deeper, adding richness, complexity and substance to universal truth. This story is one of those.
The rich man had to descend to Hades to discover that simple human compassion brings greater rewards than the accumulation of wealth. Do we have to experience the emptiness that results from the pursuit of wealth to realize that the chase is ultimately fruitless and unrewarding? Do we have to make our own journey into Hades to figure that out? Why can’t we listen to Moses and the prophets? As we heard the prophet Amos say this morning, “Alas for those who lie on beds of ivory, and lounge on their couches.”
Or the liberating words of the psalmist:
The LORD sets the prisoners free;
the LORD opens the eyes of the blind; *
the LORD lifts up those who are bowed down;
What do we know about this man who descended into Hades? Mostly, we know that he was rich. He dressed well and ate sumptuously. We also know that he must have cared about his family, asking that his five brothers be warned; so that they could avoid the torments he was enduring. We know of no great crimes he committed – nothing that would make him a candidate for the torment of Hades. He was probably an honest merchant, a decent enough citizen – maybe a member of the Judean Noonday Rotary or the Jerusalem Chamber of Commerce.
The revealing thing that we know about this rich man is that at the gate outside his house, the gate he must have passed through everyday on his way to the market, lay Lazarus, hungry for scraps and too weak to chase away the dogs that came to lick his sores. We know that the rich man ignored the needs of a man that lay just outside his door.
Still there is something more - something that is an important clue to the rich man’s character. Even in Hades, the rich man felt entitled. Even in Hades he regarded Lazarus as beneath him, first asking Abraham to send Lazarus to dip his finger in water and cool his tongue. Then asking that Lazarus be sent as a messenger to warn his brothers of the torment that awaited them. Even in Hades, the rich man thought he was privileged - that he could send the lowly of the world, to fetch and to carry. It is no wonder that Abraham knew that the rich man’s brothers wouldn’t heed warnings from the grave. Their life of privilege, of entitlement, closed their ears.
I’m intrigued by how we discover truth, for ourselves. What is that occasion that causes us to open our eyes to the suffering around us? What would spur us to chase away the dogs that lick Lazarus’ sores and invite him in to our table? If we remain blinded by our quest for riches, neither a resuscitated Lazarus, nor a resurrected Jesus can save us. Our brothers and sisters stand at the gate. When do we let them in?
The Sufi poet Rumi tells the story of Sheba taking a trip to see Solomon and carrying with her forty loads of gold. “When she reached the land of Solomon, she saw that the mountains and the field, even the dust in the road, were pure gold. Day after day she rode on gold, until gold lost all value for her. When Solomon saw her gift he laughed. ‘When did I ever ask for porridge from you? I did not ask for gifts; I asked that you be worthy of those gifts that I will give you.’”
Jesus is looking for much more than our contributions to the poor. He is looking for the transformation of the giver. We are the recipients of God’s grace – all creation has received this greatest gift. Sheba’s gifts to Solomon paled in comparison to the riches of Solomon’s kingdom. To be worthy of the gift we have received from God, the unconditional love we have been given, we are asked to share that love with others.
In death the rich man was offered a new perspective. He no longer viewed things from above, but from below. His eyes were partially opened. He understood – just too little and too late. There is something about a perch that is too lofty that prevents us from seeing the details of the suffering below. Sometimes, in order to see the suffering, to develop the compassion we need to actually do something about it, it’s necessary to be in its midst.
If the rich man had been able to contact his brothers, what would he have told them? Would he have said, “Give some alms to the poor, make sure the crumbs from our table fall on the beggars at the gate.” It appears that this is all that he may have learned. I am suggesting this because of the way the rich man continued to regard Lazarus as his inferior, someone to fetch him water, a messenger boy, not a fellow human being, an equal. He failed to see that Lazarus was someone with a legitimate claim to the riches of the world and to the gifts of God’s kingdom.
What the rich man failed to see, even after death, was that Lazarus was his brother, not his servant. New life in Christ offers the eye-opening realization that we are surrounded by our brothers and sisters. Charity, good works, are vital for the well being of those less fortunate. It was indeed important for the rich man to realize that he should have provided food for a starving man at his gate. But we are not just asked to give alms. New life awaits those who are willing to have their eyes opened. What would have persuaded the rich man to open his eyes, open the closed gate to Lazarus, to open his closed heart to the ever present love of God?