A message on Lazarus, the rich man and the case for church

Luke 16:19-31 

¹⁹ “There was a certain rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and ^[a]fared sumptuously every day. ²⁰ But there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, full of sores, who was laid at his gate, ²¹ desiring to be fed with ^[b]the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover the dogs came and licked his sores. ²² So it was that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s bosom. The rich man also died and was buried. ²³ And being in torments in Hades, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom.

²⁴ “Then he cried and said, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am tormented in this flame.’ ²⁵ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted and you are tormented. ²⁶ And besides all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed, so that those who want to pass from here to you cannot, nor can those from there pass to us.’

²⁷ “Then he said, ‘I beg you therefore, father, that you would send him to my father’s house, ²⁸ for I have five siblings, that he may warn them, lest they also come to this place of torment.’ ²⁹ Abraham said to him, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; should they listen to them.’ ³⁰ And he said, ‘No, father Abraham; but if one goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ ³¹ But he said to him, ‘If they do not hear Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded though one rise from the dead.’ ”

Mark Twain once said, “It ain’t the parts of the Bible that I can’t understand that bother me, it is the parts that I do understand.” 

Jesus told lots of parables that are recorded in the Bible.  Stories about being lost and found, stories about having just the faith of a mustard seed which can move mountains, stories about status and wealth, stories about admitting failure, asking for forgiveness and then being welcomed back into God’s gracious arms.   And then, we have today’s parable:  Lazarus and the Rich Man.  This isn’t a feel-good story about making a mistake, coming to our senses, repenting and be welcomed back with the other 99 sheep in the fold.  Nope. today’s story is a parable about being rich. Aaaaaand then burning in hell.

Yes, as Mark Twain would say, It ain’t the parts of the Bible that I can’t understand that bother me, it is the parts that I do understand…

Our tale is clear: The rich man wore excessively fancy clothes each day and feasted like a king.  At his gate, laid Lazarus who he probably stepped over each day, wretchedly poor, covered with sores and starving.  And the rich man did nothing.

Jesus’ listeners would have clued in quick to this kind of story.  It was a common pattern in neighbor cultures, like Egypt for example, To tell these kinda moral tales that had to do with how the rich treated the poor.  And, true to the ancient pattern of morality tales, Jesus doesn’t mince words when he explains what happens:  Eventually, when the two main players die, Lazarus, is cradled in Father Abraham’s arms while the rich man—burns in hellfire.  And everything is just tied up in a sweet little bow with everyone getting their just rewards.

So, let’s just call a thing what it is and say that this story is disturbing to me because I immediately identify with the rich man, right?  According to the organization, Giving What We Can from the Center for Effective Altruism, a family of 4 would need to have a combined family income of $52,000 a year to find themselves in the top 10% of the world’s richest people.  This would certainly put most ELCA clergy including me in and above that threshold.   Most people in the world live on less money a day than what I spent on my coffee in the shop where I wrote this sermon.  We are the rich man. 

Which makes this parable squeeze our hearts or want to shut our eyes and turn away.  In the story as Jesus tells it, there is just this insurmountable chasm between the rich man and Lazarus.  And, boy, do we understand that chasm.  We can barely get our arms around the state of the chasm between the rich and the poor in Chicago let alone the nation or the world. The chasm seems almost impossible to bridge.

So how can we learn from this story that Jesus tells us today? 

Well for starters, clearly, Jesus has been in a little sermon series about money in the gospel of Luke for the last few chapters and we have been along for the ride: There are rich people who lose their sheep and their coins, wealthy pharisees and tax collectors complaining, then there’s the prodigal son, the dishonest manager.  This is what the gospel of Luke is all about. Mary the mother of God set the stage for this gospel when she sang, “He has cast the mighty down from their thrones and left the wealthy no part.”

Jesus knows that money can be a god that we find security in, a god that sits at the center of our lives, a god that we trust and Jesus is pushing us again at this point in the gospel of Luke to clarify: what is the god that rules our lives?  

Then, I see two provocative points for us in today’s bible story. The first is that we are not the rich man who is trapped in eternal torment.  No. We are here.  Perhaps it would make more sense to see ourselves as the rich man’s five living siblings who he mentions who he is worried about. And we, as those five siblings, we are warned about the urgent situation in this world right now.  Having been warned, we are invited to bridge the chasm which is possible. That is good news.

The second thing I see when looking at this parable, is a curious distinction between Lazarus and the Rich Man. After he has died, the story tells us that Lazarus is at peace and is cradled against Father Abraham’s bosom.  There he is, surrounded by all the saints that have gone before him, by angels and archangels, cherubim and seraphim, by a whole company of hosts.

In contrast, the rich man is alone. There’s no community there to support or encourage him.  There’s no one to hold him accountable or challenge the excessive way he lives his life.  (Are You kidding me?) He cannot even find a single person to pass him a drip of water to cool his burning tongue. He is totally alone.

If we are the rich man’s five siblings, then it’s that community piece surrounding Lazarus that has me thinking.  Because there is something in the power of the church. 

We could certainly “do good” on our own or from the ease of our own homes.  We could volunteer and read books and listen to podcasts about what it means to be a person of faith or follower of Jesus. We could support a handful of causes that are meaningful and important to us.    Anyone can support social programs. 

But we come to church. 

Church is something that has been passed down to us for generations by our parents, grandparents, our ancestors, by all the saints—related to us or not.  Walter Bruggeman calls it this ”ancient, slow conversation” that we steward.

Here, gathered together in community (in church), we are challenged and convicted, we are disturbed into considering hard questions about poverty and justice, status and wealth.   (I mean, let’s be honest, where else in your life are you going to sit captive and listen to a really uncomfortable story about Lazarus and the rich man except here?)

Here, in church, this is the place that God uses to teach us to stand courageously in the face of that great chasm between the rich and the poor—to teach us how to live with justice and generosity.   This is a place where we’re strengthened to bless the life around us.

Lest we think that the church and the work of it is limited to our little congregation, let me remind you of the bigger picture of our participation in the larger church.  Not only does LMC commit to transforming lives and deepening faith here in this congregation, not only does this congregation support mission and ministry locally (in places like the night ministry, or the friendship center, or the Apna Gahr domestic violence shelter), but this church gives almost 12% of our formally pledged money to the work to our community and with that to the of the greater church through our benevolence to the Chicago area synod.  And our synod, in turn, gives an astounding amount of money to the greater national church.  And here is where you really start to harness the collective power of Jesus’ church.

When you give to the church and through that the ELCA, you are giving to build a hospital in war-torn South Sudan which is the only place in that country for women and girls to have a fistula surgery.

When we give, as a church to the ELCA, We support Augusta Victoria Hospital in Jerusalem which serves as a major medical facility offering specialized care for Palestinian refugees.  Our Lutheran church bodies were principal and founding agencies of this hospitals after the 1948 world war.

When we (Luther Memorial) give, as a church to the ELCA, we are supporting the work of AMPARO the organization which advocates for the safety and basic human rights of migrant children and their families on our southern border.

When we give as a church to the ELCA, we support our Washington DC advocacy office which is currently involved in initiatives like the bi-partisan Keeping Girls in School Act, collaborating to provide a faith based presence around the UN Climate Summit, and the Standing Against (hashtag) #ChristianNationalism campaign.

 

Together, as the church, we stand at the gate where Lazarus lay, and collectively by the power of the Holy Spirit, we are able to respond in a way that no individual ever could.  We are able, as a denomination, to boldly ordain GLBTQIA+ folks to be pastors of word and sacrament.  We strive to speak truth as the institutional church to the critical issues of our day like racism, immigration, violence and God’s redemptive love for all people. The church pulls us towards voices that are outside of our bubbles.   It serves as a vehicle for God’s action in the world.

This stewardship season, we’re asking you to pledge a gift to the church, to Luther Memorial.  We’re asking you to consider and commit to the regular spiritual practice of giving.  Several years ago, a book came out that reported on the extensive research and giving patterns of US Christians.  It concluded that 20% of Christians don’t give anything to charity.  Then, of the 80% that do give, most give very little, usually only 1-2% of their total income. 

I grew up in a family that gave 10% of their income to the church. Some of you here in the congregation also give in such a way.  I will tell you that Omar and I do not practice that level of (truly) radical generosity, but we are working towards it and we aspire to give in such a way. 

We are asking you to pledge to the church this Fall and have faith in the transformative power of our local congregation, where the welcoming, caring and compassionate power of the Holy Spirit is present. 

Sometimes, I shake my head at myself because I spent many years deconstructing the church, criticizing it and picking it apart.  And yet, I love God’s church because there is nothing like the power of the local congregation.  It’s in the local congregation where we remind one another that we’re called live differently in the world.  We remind one another that we are called to do justice, to change systems, to love mercy, to practice compassion, to walk humbly, to honestly consider our privilege, to courageously stand with those who are oppressed, to open our hearts and lives and generously, even lavishly, share what we have, to live out the gospel simply by the way we show up in the world. 

It takes grit and faith to hear a story like the one of Lazarus and the rich man and to commit to bridging the chasm that separates us.  It takes tremendous heart to live generously with our whole beings and to keep God at the center of the way we live.

The church—the church is a vehicle that God uses to teach us how to love this world that God has created. And through that transformative and holy work as church, that, dear ones is how God will make all things new.