The 19th Sunday after Pentecost (September 25, 2016)
Church of the Ascension and Saint Agnes – Washington, D.C.
Lectionary Readings:
Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15; Psalm 91:1-6, 14-16; 1 Timothy 6:6-19; Luke 16:19-31
[Note: This sermon is also available in audio form here.
It is the first recording at the top of the page.]
Sometimes the truth of the matter is staring us right in the face and we just do not see it. I have a brief, but embarrassing, personal anecdote that I could not stop thinking about in writing this sermon. A couple of years ago, I learned a very good lesson about not getting on Facebook late at night. As my wife tells the story, we were lying in bed, each reading as we wound the night down. All of a sudden she hears me start saying, “o-r-a-n-g-e… o-r-a-n-g-e…” She finally turned to me and said, “What on earth are you doing?” And I replied, with all of the earnestness in the world, “This Facebook post says that if you pronounce orange really slowly it will sound like gullible.” And then it hit me. As the words came out of my mouth, I understood my error. Here I was, the son of two PhD trained academics, working on my second master’s degree, and my own gullibility got the best of me. Sometimes, the truth of the matter is starting us right in the face, and we just do not see it.
This is precisely what is going on in today’s Gospel reading. Like maybe some of you, I grew up in a tradition that often used this parable in the manner of fire and brimstone. Either it was used to strike fear into the unbeliever or, often too, it was used to expound upon the “fact” that people are judged upon death, either immediately sent to heaven or hell, and therefore any notion of praying for the dead is absolute heresy. First of all, on the point of praying for the dead, I must commend to you Father Dominic’s reflection this week on the subject, as he talks about the idea of purgatory and the very Anglican tradition of understanding death to be no barrier to further growth in Christ. But, second, to get caught up in such issues is to fundamentally miss the point of the parable. The sin of the rich man in today’s reading is the sin of obliviousness. He was sent to the place of torment because of his oblivious disregard for Lazarus. Again, as we go back and look at the gospel passage, we see that every day he feasts sumptuously while at his gate, not any gate but his own gate – at his own front door – a man wastes away to such a great degree that even the dogs lick his sores. And then what happens when they both die? Lazarus is rewarded with paradise, and the rich man is rewarded with torment. But even at this, what does the rich man do? He addresses Abraham. He says, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus…” Send Lazarus… He is still completely oblivious. He still only treats Lazarus as a means to an end. And, not only does he do it once, but he does it twice. After Abraham rebukes him the first time, he replies, “Then father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house…” Even as he begins to seem more charitable and humane – showing concern for his relatives – he still neglects to acknowledge the humanity of Lazarus. He still treats Lazarus as nothing more than an object. And what is Abraham’s response in all of this? Look at what is before you. All you need to do is open your eyes. You know what is written in scripture, your father’s house knows what is written in scripture. Sometimes, the truth of the matter is staring us right in the face and we just do not see it.
Now, I will be the first to admit that sometimes scripture is not always so easy to read and understand. I think for example, that it is very easy to look at the readings from this week and last, and to immediately get caught up in the issue of money. Now money is not unimportant. As Paul writes in Timothy this morning, “The love of money is the root of all kinds of evil, and in their eagerness to be rich some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pains.” But money is not the point, for look at the prescription that Paul gives to the rich at the end of the reading, “As for those who in the present age are rich, command them not to be haughty, or to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but rather on God…” and then later, “They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share…” The point is not the wealth itself but in fact what is done with such wealth. And these actions that are commanded – they require awareness. We are called into awareness of our fellow human beings. We are called out of haughty obliviousness and into impassioned engagement.
So what are the voices – who are the people – that we are oblivious too, that we are neglecting? In an interesting post this week – quite apropos for us today – the Rt. Rev. Matthew Gunter of the Diocese of Fond Du Lac commented, “We need more deacons. Not so much to help out at the altar, wonderful as that is. We need people set apart and singularly focused on calling the Church’s attention to the Lazaruses at our gate. And on calling and training us to minister to them.” Dare I say, Deacons are a community that we too often neglect and are oblivious to – even as they work tirelessly to call our attention precisely to those whom we are ignoring. Fortunately for us, we have our own Deacon Erikson, and fortunately too he is giving a talk this morning on the nature and call of the permanent diaconate during coffee hour.
While we can relish in this moment, the weight of Bishop Gunter’s remark, the weight of our passages today should not be left at the conclusion of my sermon. Who are the unnoticed, unappreciated, unrecognized souls at our gate? What voices are we not listening to? Whose suffering are we positioned to help alieve? What is the Gospel message that is staring us right in the face that we are not even seeing? The rich man’s sin was being too detached and aloof. As the church, when we have such striking architecture, such beautiful liturgies, when we are evangelizing all of the right kinds of people to help the church grow numerically and financially, we too run this very risk. How are we aloof and detached? Who is at our gates asking to come in, and how should we respond? Sometimes the answer is starting us right there in the face. “Do good, be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share – thus storing up for ourselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future,” so that we may take hold of the life that really is life. Take hold of life that is really life.
Amen.
Ad Orientem 