http://www.box.net/shared/n3nty7227n
The sermon manuscript I used follows below:
The Twenty-Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time; September 26, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Jeremiah 32: 1-3a, 6-15
Psalm 91: 1-6, 14-16
1 Timothy 6: 6-19
Luke 16: 19-31 *
“As the Purse is Emptied, the Heart is Filled”
--} This morning’s parable in our gospel lesson surely begins with the context Luke puts it in. The gospel story begins with more than just the parable about the rich man and Lazarus, but with the Pharisees, “who were lovers of money,” and who had been ridiculing Jesus. The good news is we have a context in which to understand Jesus’ parable; the bad news… is that once again, our money (particularly that we have more than enough) is an issue for us, too.
Initially, at least, we all want to cheer the “great reversal” of verse 25: “remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus, in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted and you are in agony.” To be sure, like us, many in the crowd around Jesus would have cheered such “just desserts,” too—reveling in the notion that all people get what’s coming to them. We’d like to think that with the coming of God’s Kingdom, everything gets evened out. The billionaires can live like paupers, and WE can all live like Donald Trump!
Yet, we use this reality to justify suffering now, as if it will eventually be rewarded. We’re comforted, because when we see people who are suffering at the hands of human greed, we believe that’s OK, because they will eventually get their reward in heaven. And maybe, just maybe, our lives don’t have to change so much. After all, we try and do our part to help those who are suffering; and none of us really live like Donald Trump! But I don’t believe this is Jesus’ point.
Luke has a curious way of telling this story. First, the rich man is never named. Names are a big deal, and the fact that Lazarus is named and the rich man isn’t, tells us something about Lazarus’ relative value in the parable. Press Lazarus’ name a bit, and we discover his name means, “God helps.” So this parable is a picture of a rich man verses the one who God helps. Lazarus is only seen lying at the gate, suffering. How does he ever gain God’s favor?
There’s an old Americanized proverb most of us are familiar with: “God helps those who help themselves.” Afterall, we’re the people who are ridiculously proud of “pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps.” You can’t just sit and wallow in your sufferings or your losses or your defeats; you have to get up and keep pushing. Many people believe this proverb about helping yourself is biblical; I assure you, it is not. Some people attribute it to Benjamin Franklin, offering advice about how to be successful in life; maybe. There’s actually an old Greek fable that goes like this:
A Waggoner was once driving a heavy load along a very muddy way. At last he came to a part of the road where the wheels sank half-way into the mire, and the more the horses pulled, the deeper sank the wheels. So the Waggoner threw down his whip, and knelt down and prayed to Hercules the Strong. "O Hercules, help me in this my hour of distress," quoth he. But Hercules appeared to him, and said: "Tut, man, don't sprawl there. Get up and put your shoulder to the wheel."
The gods help them that help themselves.
And the point seems to be that you have to demonstrate some initiative in order for God to throw in with you, right?
But in Jesus’ parable, God’s favor or God’s help requires no such initiative. If anything, God simply observes injustice and will take care of it in the next life. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
But I believe the truth is that if we don’t walk away from this parable a good bit offended, we’ve missed the meaning.
We always want to believe that we are somehow less offensive in our behavior than the rich man Jesus tells us about. That we wouldn’t feast sumptuously ourselves while we allowed Lazarus to lie at the gate and suffer, day after day as the dogs lick his wounds.
But the conclusion of the parable is this: “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” And the point seems to be, not avoiding the fate of the rich man, but listening to Moses and the Prophets. Luke’s surprise in this story is that Jesus is talking to the Pharisees, who arguably ought to be the ones who are the best “listeners” to the law and the Prophets. And yet, they are the ones identified as the “lovers of money.” As it is with the rich man, their burden is justifying themselves in the sight of others, but not according to how God measures the heart. And when we presume a “great reversal” is going to be the “great fix” to all injustices, I think we become guilty of the same thing.
If we don’t walk away from this parable a good bit offended, ourselves; we’ll miss what Jesus is up to.
The parable serves as a check and balance for what we might otherwise settle for being true. We’re often convinced that prudent and wise disposition of our wealth is important and to be valued. So, saving for a rainy day, putting something away for tomorrow—just in case, or managing our wealth and money, are practical steps to success. The value of emptying the purse so our hearts might be filled… sounds, well, foolish. Even though that would seem to be the behavior we would try and prescribe for the rich man in Jesus parable; and when Jesus would seem to be trying to advise us similarly.
So here’s a quote I heard this week attributed to the “notable leftist” Dwight Eisenhower. Of course, you know Eisenhower was no “leftist,” but rather a well-established Republican patriot. But here’s what Eisenhower said:
“Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies …a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children.”
And this is part of the point I believe Jesus is pushing us toward: that the choices we make for our lives are always related to those who do not get to make the same kinds of choices. And if we presume to make our choices and care not for others and their choices, we are no better than the rich man feasting sumptuously while Lazarus is lying at the gate in agony.
As we hear the words of Jesus’ promises for us, we tend to believe we are well on our way to personal and corporate salvation—maybe even without having to take stock of the victims of injustice or the suffering we surely witness and recognize. As we hear the promises of Jesus, it’s easier to presume God’s help of us, to justify our status, and presume our place in eternal life, rather than taking stock of our relative wealth and our relative unwillingness to even up justice.
Again, here’s the sage advice Jesus is quoting: “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.” It’s not that we don’t need Jesus, but that we have already been invited into a world-view that should guide us. God’s preferential assessment for some people is important. We should not seek to look beyond it, but figure ourselves how to change our actions accordingly. And then we can become people who aren’t just worried about what happens to us when we die, but people who are busy being God’s hands, God’s heart, God’s eyes, God’s legs and feet.
Or, as Vida Scudder surmises: “We have food, others have none. God bless the revolution.”
--+ Brothers and Sisters, God sent God’s son, the Christ; he doesn’t just save us, he turns our world upside down. He calls us to live in new ways, to see wealth, riches, and suffering as things we can change. We’re called—are we not—to give up clinging to money and to cling to the life of the Kingdom of God instead. AMEN.
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