Lazarus at the Gate
The lessons for today, even the
parable in the gospel about poor Lazarus at the rich man’s gate, are some of
the most straightforward ones in the bible. There is not much need for interpretation in words like “Happy
are they…who give justice to those who are oppressed and food to those who
hunger.” In the parable, the
selfish rich man burns in hell, while the poor beggar is tended to by the
angels in heaven. This is the kind
of lesson that makes me squirm. It’s tough to think about, much less preach
about. I never consider myself one
of the rich, but in comparison to most of the poor people in the world, I am
very rich indeed. When I think about the money I waste on trivial things,
that’s when I really start to squirm.
I can just see myself on judgment day trying to justify buying that pair
of shoes that gathered dust in my closet.
Then I remember with gratitude that our Lord is “slow to anger and
abounding in steadfast love.” I still have time to mend my selfish ways.
The
collect for today says something pretty startling: “God, you declare your
almighty power chiefly in showing mercy and pity.” Really? I take a look at the beauty and wonder
of creation, the incredible power of natural forces like wind and floods and
wildfires, and I think, now, that’s power.
Or I look at someone who has been
miraculously healed from a devastating illness, and I think—that’s
power. But this collect, in stating that God chiefly reveals his power through
mercy and pity, suggests that all those showy demonstrations of God’s power—the
volcano erupting and tidal wave forming--are not most important to God.
No, God demonstrates his true power in a way most of us usually
overlook—or ignore—in the mercy and pity God shows each of us. Some people call
it grace.
When
I was a child here in Graves Mill, I loved to hear the stories my mother told
about her own childhood here, stories about the gatherings of family and
friends, of neighbors coming together in times of celebration and in times of
trouble. She told me about my hard-working grandparents, a farmer and his wife,
about how my grandmother canned the vegetables my grandfather grew, how she
cooked and spread a well-laden table at every meal, good food for the family
and anyone else who came to share a meal. Mama told me about the lunches my
grandmother packed for her children, how my mother was distraught one day when
a big gust of wind tugged her lunch pail right out of her hand and dumped it in
the river as she and her sister Mabel walked to school. Mama remembered that
incident so plainly after so many years because, as she told me, her lunch
contained one of my grandmother’s delicious fried apple pies.
When
I was a young adult and reflected on my mother’s childhood, it finally occurred
to me that the years of my mother’s growing up, the years of what always
sounded to me like years of joy and bounty, were the years of the Great Depression.
From my mother’s stories, I never had the sense of anyone in the valley
suffering through those hard times. I’m sure some of them did, but I’m equally
sure this valley, where farming families had always known how to provide for
their own and look out for one another, was at least somewhat insulated from
the worst effects of the depression. The images we’ve seen of long lines of
people standing in wait for handouts of bread are images of city life. We
continue to think that the worst pockets of poverty in this country are in the
urban areas, although we also know from the 1960s revelations about poverty in
the deep hollers of Appalachia that poor people abound in all places. When we
refuse to see the poor people in our midst, we behave like the rich man who
overlooked the very existence of Lazarus at his gate. The words of today’s
collect and gospel lesson remind us that, though we may choose to drive past
the poor person in need, God always shows the poor mercy and pity and favors
them over us when we neglect them.
Let’s
look at that parable again. When Abraham explains to the rich man why he is in
hell and why poor Lazarus is finally receiving the comfort he deserves, the
rich man doesn’t really get it. He wants Abraham to send Lazarus to bring him
some water, as if he can still lord it over the poor beggar. Abraham points out
to the rich man that what he asks is impossible. Then the rich man asks Abraham
to send Lazarus to his father’s house, to warn all five of his rich brothers,
so that they won’t end up burning in hell as he has. When Abraham says the
brothers have Moses and the prophets, all of whom taught about sharing and
caring for the poor, the rich man responds that his brothers won’t listen to
the prophets. He thinks they might
listen to someone raised from the dead, like Lazarus. Maybe that would get
their attention. The audacity of this rich man, even while he is in hell, is
unbelievable! Abraham has had
enough of him by this point, and tells him that his brothers won’t listen to anyone
any more than he did himself. They
are just as self-absorbed as he is.
I
wonder how many times we fail to listen to the prophets? How often do we read
lessons like this one and forget about it the next day? Two things from Paul’s letter to
Timothy are helpful guides for us if we wish to do the right thing by sharing
our wealth. Most of the time when you hear these words of Paul’s, they are misquoted
as saying, “Money is the root of all evil.” But what Paul really says, and this
is significant, is that “the love of money is a root of all kinds of
evil.” Money in and of itself is
neither good nor evil. In fact, used wisely and generously, money can
accomplish many good things. The problems arise from our attachment to our
money and what we can purchase with it. When we love our money too much, we
become less willing to share it with others.
What’s
the antidote? What does Paul say we ought to do with our money? He states very
plainly how we rich folks are to behave.
We are “to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to
share.”
Ultimately,
I think this means we have to take a close look at our relationship with our
money. Actually, maybe the better choice would be to stop having a
“relationship” with our money—to let go of that kind of attachment. Instead, we
could assess how we use our money, and how we might be able to use it more
wisely and generously. I guess
Paul would say we could redirect our love for our money toward doing a better job
of loving each other and our neighbors.
Like every important challenge, that may be easier said than done.
As
with any challenge, we can pray for the Lord’s guidance in discerning his will
for us as we share our abundance with the ones who need our help the most. AMEN
