Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
January 29, 2019
Scripture:
Luke 16:19-31
This month, we’ve been
reading a bunch of the parables that Jesus told to his followers – these short
stories that use everyday people and situations that are designed to teach
people about God. Some of the parables
would fall into what I would consider to be “happy parables” – like the lost
sheep and the lost coin that we read at the picnic. Other parables have been much harder to
understand and to learn from, like the unfaithful steward that we read last
week – the story that I re-named as The Manager who Switched Sides.
This week, we’ve got
another parable – the Rich Man and Lazarus – and this one seems to be pretty
straight-forward on the surface. We have
Lazarus, a poor man, covered in wounds, lying just outside the gate of a very
wealthy man. Did you know that out of
all of the parables that Jesus told, Lazarus is the only character to have a
name? Right from the beginning of this
short story, we’re being set up to cheer for Lazarus – he has a name, something
that we can grab on to and identify him with.
But as the story progresses, did you notice that Lazarus doesn’t say
anything or do anything? Lazarus is
named, but most of the story that Jesus is telling consists of a dialogue
between the rich man and Abraham.
Lazarus begins the
story lying outside of the gates of the rich man, covered in wounds which would
have made him ritually impure in the eyes of religious and cultural norms; and
his wounds are being licked by stray dogs which make him doubly impure. When I read this story this week, it made me
think of a news piece that I heard on CBC radio earlier in the week, talking
about the increase in crystal meth use in Saint John, and one of the symptoms
of crystal meth is open sores. And so
reading about Lazarus, my brain made a quick connection to those who are living
on the margins in our time and place.
And Lazarus dies, and
is carried off by the angels to the place of the dead where he rests with the
ancestors, Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Leah and Rachel and
Bilhah and Zilpah. The rich man also
dies, and is buried in what was likely a lavish funeral, and he goes to the
place of the dead where he faces torment. We aren’t told the exact nature of
the torment, but it is hinted that this involved flames and thirst.
At this point, this
story illustrates perfectly that thing that Jesus repeats again and again – the
last shall be first and the first shall be last. The one who enjoyed luxury and comfort on
this side of death is now being tormented; while the one who lay in pain and
poverty in life is now being comforted after death. A total reversal of fortunes.
Now the rich man, he
still doesn’t get it. He calls out to
the ancestors, to Abraham, begging him to send Lazarus to him to relieve his
suffering. When Abraham points out that this
is impossible, the rich man pleads with him to send Lazarus to his siblings to
warn them to change their ways, and again Abraham says that this won’t work.
The rich man still
doesn’t get it. In life, he didn’t do
anything to relieve Lazarus’ suffering; and even after death, he still sees
Lazarus as a person to be ordered around according to his whims. He still doesn’t see Lazarus as an equal, let
alone more deserving of comfort. He
still doesn’t get it.
We can leave it at
that – an example story of don’t be like the rich man – but if we were to dig
just below the surface, it can become a very disturbing parable indeed. Because we have to ask ourselves, even though
we are cheering for Lazarus, in our day-to-day life are we more like Lazarus or
are we more like the unnamed rich man?
This week, I came
across a website that allows you to enter your income, and it tells you where
you fall in terms of wealth on a global scale (www.givingwhatwecan.org). Now ministers are not the highest
wage-earners in Canada, but when I punched in my annual salary after tax, my
salary puts me in the top 5% of people in the world. Even when I knocked off the 10% offering that
I give to the church, I still fell into the top 6% of people in the world.
And so when I look at
where I fit in economically, on a global scale, I am sitting in a position much
closer to the rich man in today’s parable than I am to Lazarus, and this
thought is terrifying. And so I have
to go deeper into this parable; I can’t just stay on the surface.
And so I ask, what was
the rich man’s crime in Jesus’ story?
Why, when he reached the place of the dead, was he subjected to torment? Because if he was deserving of the torment
simply for having much while Lazarus had little, well, then, I think that we
are all probably in the same boat as he was.
There are so many people – close to home and around the world – who are
living as Lazarus did, on the margins of existence, while we are living in
relative comfort, knowing where our next meal will come from, and confident
that we will have a roof over our head tonight.
So what else might
have been the rich man’s crime? Was it
that he wanted to help, but he didn’t see Lazarus lying there? But we know that not only did he see Lazarus
lying there, he even knew Lazarus’ name.
In the place of the dead, the rich man cries out to Abraham, asking him
to send Lazarus specifically to cool his thirst and warn his brothers.
And so where does that
leave us? That leaves us with a rich man
who knew that Lazarus was there; who knew Lazarus by name; and yet who chose
not to do anything to help Lazarus. And
I think that this was where he went wrong; this was his crime.
We don’t have to look
very far to see the Lazaruses in our world.
We can look on the TV or the computer and see images from places in the
world with famine and drought, we can see people fleeing from war, we can see
economic refugees risking their lives to cross borders.
But there are
Lazaruses closer to home too. Bette
could tell you how many people are sleeping under the viaduct in Saint John,
even in the dead of winter. How many
people get their only meal through Outflow or the Romero Van. How many people are sleeping in the shelters,
and how many people are turned away because the shelters are full. How many people are couch-surfing, unsure of
where they will be sleeping the next night or the next week. And this parable calls on us to do something.
This parable calls us
to share out of our abundance with the Lazaruses in the world. This parable calls us to advocate for changes
to the systems that keep some people in poverty. I even think that this parable calls us to
consider the Lazaruses of the world when we are choosing who we are going to
vote for in next month’s election.
And we can do all of
this out of fear of eternal torment like the rich man in the parable; or we can
do it because God’s Holy Spirit is always transforming us more and more into
the Body of Christ. And as the Body of
Christ, we are called to spread God’s love in the whole world, wherever we find
ourselves.
Can you imagine how
the parable might have ended if, instead of lying outside the gate of the rich
man, Lazarus was lying at the feet of Jesus?
Can you imagine Jesus gathering Lazarus up in his arms, cleaning his
wounds, putting clean clothes on him, and feeding him with good, healthy
food? Can you imagine Jesus calling
Lazarus “Brother,” and treating him with dignity and respect so that Lazarus
knew that he was loved?
And if we are the Body
of Christ in the world, the hands and feet and heart of Christ, are we not
called to do likewise?
"With God, the world is turned upside down..."
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