Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Luke 1619 “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. 20 At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores 21 and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.
22 “The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. 23 In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. 24 So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’
25 “But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. 26 And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’
Sometimes peer pressure is a good thing.
Take for example, the Giving Pledge, a campaign to get billionaires to give away most of their wealth. It began when Bill Gates and Warren Buffet made the pledge, and began recruiting fellow billionaires.
And you could say their effort is a runaway success. Since 2010, the group has expanded to 139 people pledging $365 billion. Some of the names are very familiar—Elon Musk of Tesla, Michael Bloomberg who famously called you-know-who a conman while speaking to Democrats—and some of the names may be unfamiliar, like Sara Blakely, who made her fortune selling something called "shapewear." I’m not sure what that is.
Ironically, one person not on the list is JK Rowling of Harry Potter fame, who skipped the pledge but is also the first person to lose her billionaire status because she’s given away so much of her fortune. Mirroring her own story, she supports charities focused on single parents including education, employment help and childcare.
Just now, if you’re wondering if this is part of our Focus on Giving, some kind of subliminal stewardship message, it’s not. I think it speaks to the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, part of St. Luke’s middle section on money—but if you hear ‘time to give away my billions,’ so be it.
Before we look at the parable, though, we should review the rather mixed picture of rich people in the Gospels. Some, like Lydia, are presented in the best possible light. She is a wealthy merchant, and she opened her heart and home to Paul and his message, and in doing so became the first European convert to Christianity.
Others, like Simon the Magician, are presented less favorably. Simon is so impressed with the work of the disciples and their healing ministry that he offers to buy the Holy Spirit, never a good idea. Even now, whenever someone tries to purchase favour or status in the church, we call it Simony.
And we shouldn’t forget perhaps the second most famous person, the unnamed Rich Young Ruler, who appears in Matthew, Mark and Luke asking what he must do to achieve life eternal. Jesus, of course, lists some commandments, then personalized the message to say “sell all you have and give it to the poor.” The rich young ruler leaves very unhappy, and Jesus then makes his most notable statement regarding wealth: “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.”
It seems rather definitive, without a lot of wiggle room, this so-called “hard saying’ of Jesus. Like cutting off the hand that causes you to sin, this is one of those over-the-top sayings that has prompted people to think twice about the accumulation of wealth. Modern philanthropy seems to begin around the time of the Industrial Revolution, the moment when terrible poverty and remarkable new wealth enter the popular realm. I think we can suppose that at least some of these new rich were thinking about the eye-of-the-needle and the problem of their salvation.
So we have a newly-defined problem—the rich and their salvation—and we have have another parable from Jesus. And this one is unique. First of all, Jesus doesn’t tend to name the characters in his parables—he wants them to be more general, like he could be talking about anyone. So there’s that.
Second, the pattern we’ve be talking about in parables takes a strange turn here. Recall that parables create a world, that sours, then is resolved in some way to illustrate some truth about the Kingdom. Well, the Rich Man and Lazarus takes another approach, which we’ll look at in a moment. And third, Luke creates the most seamless ‘explanatory ending’ for this parable, which I’m going to ask you to ignore.
But first, the parable begins in perhaps the most visceral style to date:
19 “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. 20 At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores 21 and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.
Hard to imagine how such a fictive universe could sour, but Jesus finds a way:
22 “The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried.
Okay, so we’re four verses in, and Jesus has already killed off everyone in the parable. I think we can say it soured. But then it sours some more:
23 In Hades, where the rich man was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. 24 So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’
I wonder how they handle this in a children’s Bible? No time to ponder, because we’re moving on!
25 “But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. 26 And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’
If you’re looking for the good news in this parable, it’s time to send out a search party. Get some sniffer dogs too, and maybe a psychic, because it will take everything we’ve got to find some grace in this story. It seems like this is just a longer version of the eye-of-the-needle lesson, and you’re already thinking Monday I should call my banker. So where is the grace, the Kingdom lesson that will take us home?
Before we get there—thanks to a group of scholar’s called the Jesus Seminar—we should take a look at Luke’s seemingly seamless ending. If you read on in Luke 16 you will see that the story has a further ending, that goes from worse to worse.
The rich man begs Abraham to send Lazarus back to earth, to warn the rich man’s brothers about Hades, and allow them to mend their ways. Abraham refuses, and in refusing, we hear a not-so-hidden message from Luke:
29 “Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’
30 “‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’
31 “He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”
What Luke is describing is the tension between the early church and the continuing synagogue, a reality long after Jesus’ death. So Luke takes the liberty to take a swipe at the Jews who opted to remain Jewish, an anti-Judaic theme that persists to this day. So we can set aside the unhelpful ending.
Back to the Jesus Seminar, wanting to help preachers struggling under the weight of going from bad to worse to worster still, we get this suggestion. The rich man isn’t in Hades because he’s rich—he’s in Hades because he’s indifferent. Look at the relieved looks out there!
Poor Lazarus, waiting for even a crumb from the rich man’s table, is the victim of indifference, starving to death right at the rich man’s front door. Having to literally step over poor Lazarus to leave his house is the great sin, not having the well-appointed doorway in the first place.
So think of it as the amendment to the amendment, those who love going to church meetings. Jesus hears the rich young ruler describe all he has done to keep the law, them amends this to say ‘yes, but you need to sell all you have and give it to the poor.’ He’s the camel to a very small needle. Then Jesus gives us the amendment to the amendment, saying ignore that most engaging metaphor about camels and needles and avoid indifference, the real sin among the rich.
So where are we in all this? Well, we’re a reasonably prosperous church. We hold all sorts of money for other people, making us look like the rich man with so many Lazarus’ at our door. And rather than give in to the temptation of indifference, we opened our doors. Twenty years of Tuesday night dinners, and now a full drop-in, and then a second location, says to me that we’ve overcome the temptation to be indifferent in the face of poverty.
Could be do better? Yes. Is our effort flawless? No. But we can’t be called indifferent—which sadly has become of the most common sins of our time.
And so we pray for an end to indifference. We pray that those who have a lot and those that have a little will see the need around them, and do what they can. We pray that they will discover the joy that comes with giving, now and always, Amen.
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