Proper 21, Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15 with Psalm 91:1-6,14-16 or
Amos 6:1a, 4-7 with Psalm 146 and
1 Timothy 6:6-19 and
Luke 16:19-31
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
Luke 16:19-31
There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, "Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames." But Abraham said, "Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, 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." He said, "Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father's house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment." Abraham replied, "They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them." He said, "No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent." He said to him, "If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead."
A single thing happens to two men and two stories ensue. One man dies and is carried away by angles. The other dies and is buried. One ascends, the other descends. The one carried away has no words in Jesus' ancient tale. The one who descended has many. Life has a language, but it is death that catches our ear and directs our attention. Death's language is wrapped in complaint without the prospect of resolution. It is fraught with fear. “I am in agony,” rich man, who lacks the dignity of name in the story but tradition calls him Dives, drawing on the Latin word for wealthy or rich. “I beg you,” he says to God. One begs with the assumption if one does not beg God would pay no attention to the plight of his brothers. A single line from a single hymn, “How Firm a Foundation” sums up the Jesus' response: “What more can be said, than to you has been said?” It is the language born of separation. On every side there is a broken connection. Dives lives in a separate world from Lazarus, even though they both sit at the same table. Abraham is separated from Dives and cannot bridge the chasm. Lazarus is as far away from Dives in death as he was in life. And the brothers are separated from a life-giving word and occupied with the distractions that make God's presence “nice” but not “necessary” are living in an isolation they have yet to see.
In a few words, death has a lot to say. Its disconnected presence has short circuited nothing less life. The Good Samaritan saw a man in need of medical attention and provided it thus showing himself to be a good neighbor. Dives saw a poor man at his table who needed medical attention and did not give it. Dives saw hunger and did not allay it. Dives' experienced success, and perhaps gave God thanks for his success but success has the capacity to eclipse truth. The lack of connection infects coherence and prompts it to build walls. I will dine sumptuously, and you will not. I will heal with physicians' balms and you might be healed by the licks of hungry dogs. I succeeded and you have not. Birds of a feather flock together. The “isms” of all ages, classism, racism, sexism, imperialism, nationalism all present themselves.
It is just a story but we find ourselves in it. We too know the language of complaint. We too know how to raise the neighbor's kids while failing to connect with them. We too can be beguiled by success. We too are tempted to beg in prayer without trusting that God's eye is on the sparrow. And we too find that we cannot avoid the one event that happened to both Lazarus and Dives. Death struck them both, and the consequences of life took each one in a different direction.
The message is clear.
If there is to be life, but now and in the hereafter, connection and a coherence deeper and more compelling than walls must speak.
Dives must connect with Lazarus. A message must be sent to five brothers who will hopefully connect with a God who remembered slaves and delivered them from anguish. The sick and hungry man at the end of the table must be seen. If there is to be life we must seek each other out by name and not by status. How telling it is that Lazarus' name, which means “God has helped,” reveals the Creator whereas Dives' name reveals economic success on a day the markets could not imagine a fall.
Break connection and you break life.
Define coherence to narrowly and life is locked out.
But what about that chasm? Is it not God who created the chasm? Could there be a remorse more poignant that the realization that the hands of the clock cannot be turned back? “No one can cross from there to us,” says Abraham. We realize his words are true. But we also recognize that we can cross from “there” to “here” as we engage in the ministry and mission of life.
“I set before you the ways of life and death,” as the Deuteronomist records God's fundamental teaching, “Choose life.”
When the day risks a divide, don't go there.
When the day replaces names with status, be careful. There may be someone at the end of the table who is part of the family.
In the epistle reading Timothy's exhortation could not be more clear:
But [as for you] pursue righteousness,
devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness.
Lay hold of eternal life, to which you were called
when you made the noble confession in the presence of many witnesses.
I charge you before God, who gives life to all things,
and before Christ Jesus . . .
This week, may we all turn away from the chasm as the God of life speaks to us yet again.
When the sun set last night, the clouds were deep blue, cool gray, a few white billows capping the long bands of clouds. It was getting dark as the Little Herder football team of Big Timber took on the Cowboys from Billings. For most it was their first football game. Suddenly, the entire eastern sky began to glow. One by one bands of luminescent pink, orange and crimson set fire to the gray clouds. We took our eyes off the kids and watched the sky spread its gentle and unexpected light.
Why do I end here?
When we open our eyes we see Lazarus at the table. We see God who gives life to all things, herders, cowboys, neighbors and sky. All we have to do, and all that must be done, is receive this gift and organize our lives knowing that life has a language, and scripture has a word for us.
Larry
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