Luke 16:19-31
“...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.”Doesn’t it feel that way in so many scenarios these days? Lines are being drawn everywhere. There are political divides and personal conflicts. There are educational divides and disagreements over funding and resourcing. There are conflicts over the means of participating in free and fair elections. Even the opportunity to worship has people angry depending on how they feel about the availability of the vaccine, or the probability of spreading COVID 19 through gatherings in closed spaces, or just the fact that some congregations are or are not meeting in-person or at all.
Let’s not forget that we still have a broken immigration system; and that congregations who don’t declare themselves to be welcoming to LGBTQIA people are assumed not to be; and the fact that Sunday morning is still the most segregated hour in our nation; and the fact that the trial of Dereck Chauvin is impacting the lives of people of color differently than those who are white.
Whew! Did I get it all? I’m sure there’s more. Now, I would not be getting into all of that if it weren’t for this parable that Jesus used to let the Pharisees and the Sadducees know that not only are their socially reinforced divisions in conflict with the law and the prophets, the divisions we all set up have consequences that we might not expect!
As we dig into that, I’m guessing there may be some that are thinking, “The rich guy was obviously in the wrong and got what he deserved. See – Karma!” but that is still not what Jesus had in mind. You may remember a few weeks ago we talked about God’s reversal of expectations with the parable of the fig tree and the story of some Galileans killed by Pilate and some others killed in a random accident.
The question of sin and deservedness became reframed by the reality of God’s grace and a call to reorient our lives around it. The same is true here, and in fact, this parable comes out as a somewhat blunt expression of what happens when you don’t repent. It’s important to note that this parable is not intended to describe the fullness of heaven and hell as eternal rewards and consequences. It’s a story. It’s a cautionary tale like Dickens's “A Christmas Carol” (or rather “A Christmas Carol” is like this one).
Scholars have and will debate whether this story is told by Luke as a way to use the influences of Greek Hellenistic culture as a teaching tool or if it’s just because that was the worldview of the author of Luke’s Gospel. It doesn’t really matter. Personally, I like to think of it in the way that Niel Gaiman describes fiction, “[it] gives us empathy: it puts us inside the minds of other people, gives us the gifts of seeing the world through their eyes. Fiction is a lie that tells us true things, over and over.”
I’m not saying Jesus is a liar. I’m saying that he is a great storyteller, and the point of this story is not just to feel sad for Lazerus (or people experiencing poverty) or mad at the Rich Man (or rich people). It does, however, come as a response to those who are described in the text as “turning up their noses” at Jesus after he called them out for being “lovers of money.”
The point here is not to say that people who have wealth are bad, but rather to ask the question of how we value one another. Those who heard the parable from the mouth of Jesus or heard it shared as followers of the way of Jesus would have believed that everything, for good or for ill, was provided by God. Those who had wealth must be blessed and those without it cursed, and they must have done something good or bad to get it.
The point that Jesus is making is that it’s just not about what you and I do. We don’t earn grace and mercy. We can only respond to it. If we respond to the grace and mercy of God by acquiring objects of status, like fine clothes and feasts, then we will likely not see the people around us as anything more than opportunities to get our needs met.
The question is not whether we have relationships with others (particularly in regard to poverty and differing social status). The question is what quality of relationships we have with them. Notice how, in his life, Lazarus was laid at the gate of the rich man, and yet he received more compassion from the dogs – scavengers in the street like he was – than from the rich man.
In his death, Lazarus was carried by angels and held like a child by Abraham. When the Rich Man saw him, he called for him by name and demanded that he serve him and dip his finger in some water because the Rich Man was in agony.
Then Abraham told him about the chasm, a chasm made by the choices of the Rich Man. The rich Man again demands that Lazarus go to his five brothers and warn them. Again, Abraham tells him that they have the law and the prophets to follow, and not even a person rising from the dead could change that.
Wait. What? That’s right. In communities that have just seen and heard about Jesus rising from the dead, they were telling this story. Essentially this is the moment that should make all followers of Jesus – then and now – do a gut check to see if we are responding to the grace and mercy of God in the relationships that we share.
You see, the issue about connecting our faith and practice really isn’t about proof of the resurrection of Jesus. In the words of Justo Gonzolas, “the main obstacle of faith is not lack of proof, it’s an excess of other interests and investments – time, money, dreams, and so on.”
The question is not whether or not you and I believe in our hearts. The question is whether or not we are willing to express that belief when it comes to our relationships and resources.
It’s not an easy call to make. Right now there is probably someone outside of our sanctuary asking passers-by for money. Just the other day I spent about 20 min picking up trash on that same corner left by people reaching out in desperation. Some may be angered by the trash that gets left behind, but I have to say that I am more troubled by the reality of poverty that turns people into categories. Am I troubled enough to do anything about it? Sometimes, with your help, I do.
Right now, we have a bin overflowing with food donations for students at the university who spend all they can muster just to get tuition and housing covered. Right now, we have lunch bags with simple snacks that I can bring to someone asking for help. It doesn’t fill the need, but it at least demonstrates care. Right now, they are beginning to take volunteers again at St Joseph’s Diner. Right now, there is a member of this church working with other community members to set up a “free food” pantry for those in need in another part of town from our building.
These are great and good things, and they flow from the main thing. The main thing is to see the humanity in the other person. More than that, the main thing is to see the divinity in each other, for each of us is certainly created in the image of God!
Let’s not forget, though, that the story of Lazerus is a cautionary tale. It may not be a literal version of what happens in eternal bliss and punishment, in fact, viewing it that way is a real disservice to the hope that this text brings for today.
In the words of Mitzi Smith, “It is a terrible thing if one’s hope is predicated on the torture of one’s enemies in an afterlife rather than the promise, potential, and labor for justice, equality, and equity in this life.”
The hope we have in this text is not that those filthy rich jerks get what they deserve. The hope is that we can receive this story as a call to work together for the benefit of all, and that does involve our resources and our relationships.
You know, I imagine that although we’ve all felt neglect of some kind somewhere, I would bet that most of us might assume that the person we are meant to identify with is the Rich Man (especially since this service is online). Eric C. Fistler and Robb McCoy of the Pulpit Fiction podcast suggest a few other possibilities.
While we can get carried away over the significance of numbers in scripture, they noticed that there are five brothers. Plus the Rich Man makes 6 – a number representing incompleteness. Plus Lazerus makes 7 – the number representing completion and wholeness. Since Lazerus has already been entrusted to God’s embrace and the Rich Man has made his choice, this story is the one being told to his siblings – to you and to me. The only way forward is to see one another, and the ones our social systems neglect or ignore, as siblings.
The only way to bridge the chasm between us is to understand that we are the ones creating it, and in the words of a Nigerian Proverb, “It is the wise who build bridges to unite people, while the foolish build walls to keep them apart.” It’s just that simple, and it’s just that hard, and to God be the glory. Now and always. Amen!
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