16th Sunday after Pentecost

 

Luke 16:19-31

So here we are again stuck in the Gospel of Luke talking about money.  It’s not a great day for rich people in our lessons today huh?  In fact in all three of our texts today, scripture has some very pointed things to say about the accumulation of wealth and all the dangers that go along with it.  And this makes our job difficult today because talking openly about money and power and privilege is hard in our culture and especially talking about anything that doesn’t put making money, creating a more comfortable life and increasing our prosperity on the top of our list of life goals.  And so, we in the church often shy away from these difficult texts.  We often try to dance around Jesus’s point or soften or spiritualize them.  But I don’t really think that any of that does any of us any good because there is a lot we can learn from these texts.  Even if learning it may put some of our comfort at risk.

Our Gospel lesson today comes in the middle of a larger portion of a story where Jesus squares off with some Pharisees who are identified just before this as being “lovers of money” who tried to make exceptions for themselves within the law.  And so Jesus tells them this parable about the rich man and Lazarus.  Now just to be clear, this is an entirely different Lazarus than the guy who Jesus raises from the dead at the end of the Gospel of John.  It turns out Lazarus was actually a fairly common name.  But that fact that he has a name at all is fascinating in and of itself.  Lazarus, the poor and afflicted one at the beginning of the story gets his name remembered but the rich guy doesn’t.  Which tells you something about who Jesus thinks is important in the story does it not?

Anyway, the story starts out with a pretty common and relatable thread.  Two people are separated by the wide gulf between rich and poor, higher and lower socio-economic status.  With one dressed in fine clothes, eating richly and generally living a comfortable life.  While the other suffers and barely manages to scrape by in terrible conditions.  And yet despite their rather close physical proximity the gates of the house provide a barrier that ensures they never really meet.  They operate in perhaps the Grosse Point and Detroit of the ancient world.

And it’s not like the rich man is being intentionally cruel here.  He is not seeking to harm anyone.  It’s just that the systems set up around these men are designed to keep them apart.  To keep the rich man from knowing that Lazarus even exists much less that he is a fully human equal.  The rich man simply doesn’t see him. 

Until their roles are reversed.  They both die and suddenly the rich man finds himself tormented while Lazarus is comforted.  Then all of a sudden, the rich man notices him.  But not really.  Because even with the massive reversal of their circumstances the rich man still doesn’t see Lazarus as fully human, as his equal.  He still expects Lazarus to serve him, first by bringing him water and then by visiting his brothers who are still alive.  Even after their physical circumstances change, the mental images that these two men have of each other remains as fixed as ever.  Nothing internal changes for the rich man, so nothing can change about the rich man’s circumstances in the afterlife.  The vast chasm remains fixed between them because the rich man, despite all that has happened still can’t see Lazarus as a real, full, independent person, someone he could have a real relationship with.

And so this story illustrates an important point about privilege and what it does to us.  Because while this story is as old as time, it is still as relevant today as ever.  The rich man’s position in life allows him not to have to acknowledge or even really see the suffering of others like Lazarus.  And even today, how much do we pay not to see?  How much of the world’s suffering is hidden from our eyes to keep us feeling safe and comfortable?  The way we construct our communities, sell our houses, teach our history, cast our movies and report the news all conspire to keep the rich and poor, the comfortable and the afflicted as far apart as possible.  The great chasm between Lazarus and the rich man was fixed long before they died by the vast infrastructure that keeps Lazarus out of the rich man’s sight and ours.

And the problem is that it is hard, nearly impossible to fix what you cannot see.  It is one of the oldest axioms in Psychology that “you can’t change what you won’t acknowledge.”  When we don’t notice the pain of others, there is no way for us to act to end it.  And like with the rich man, it’s not really just about our physical circumstances but our internal stance toward others.  Even when their positions are reversed, even when Lazarus is elevated, the rich man’s regard for Lazarus doesn’t change.  He still treats him, and quite frankly Abraham, like servants who can be ordered to do his bidding, as tools to be used for his own advancement not as real people with their own thoughts, desires and agency.  His mentality hasn’t changed at all.

Because stepping outside of your privilege, developing true empathy, really putting yourself in the position of others whose lives and experiences are fundamentally unlike yours is hard.  Really hard.  Later in Luke chapter 18 Jesus says it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God, yet with God all things are possible.  Jesus knows that this is hard, but it is not impossible.  Because Jesus already gives us the tools to do so.  He gives us the knowledge.  He gives us the ability.  He even directly gives us the command to live out our love of God by loving our neighbor as ourselves.  He tells us that whatever we do to the least of these, to the Lazaruses of the world we do to him.

But in order to love our neighbor, we must first be willing to see our neighbor.  We must be willing to see the pain, hurt and suffering of others and not look away.  Even and especially if it is hard, if it is uncomfortable, if it forces us question things about ourselves, or to acknowledge our role in causing the suffering of others or at least failing to alleviate it.  We must be willing to see those we have been taught to think of as unworthy or as less than us as equals, as real, full and independent people with their own intrinsic value and important things to teach us.  But it is worth it to take the time, to take the risks to try. 

Over the next month or two at St George’s we are going to create a number of opportunities for each us of us to begin lift the veil, to see our neighbors more fully and to examine our lives and our privilege a little more closely.  And I hope you will join us, because when we open ourselves to truly seeing our neighbor, a whole new world, the true kingdom of God opens up to us.  Amen.