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Scripture: Luke 16:19-31 The parable Jesus told about the rich man and Lazarus makes me uncomfortable. It wasn't always that way. In fact, there was a time I rather liked this story about a poor man who ends up singing Rocka My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham, a story also about a rich man who longs for one drop of water on his parched tongue. Why did I like it? Well, because I figured the rich man had it coming. I mean, he couldn't help seeing the poor man, whose name was Lazarus, lying at his gate. This poor soul was in such a bad way that the dogs hung around him, licking his sores. Why didn't the rich man help him? Why didn't he invite him in for a meal, or at least take some food out for Lazarus to eat? Obviously because he was a selfish, unfeeling brute. If anybody deserved to fry in Hell, the rich man did. There's nothing quite so satisfying as working yourself up to a good, healthy feeling of righteous indignation, right? And it is so easy for you and me to feel indignant towards the rich man in the story and to feel sympathy for poor Lazarus. And so how satisfying when the story ends as this one does -- with the good guy coming out on top and the bad guy getting his just deserts. As I say, that's how I used to feel about this story. But reading it this time, I saw some things I hadn't seen before. I began to view the story in a somewhat different light. And that made me uneasy. What I hadn't noticed before about the parable was that there is no direct evidence that the rich man was a bad guy. Jesus did not say he was wicked or nasty, or even that he was greedy or unfeeling. We are told only that he was rich, that he dressed in expensive clothing and dined at a lavish table each day. The only clue we get about his moral standing comes later in the story after his death. We see him in torment. We can assume he would not be in that fix had his life been pleasing to the Almighty. But the story gives no support to the popular view of the rich man as a tight-fisted, uncaring monster. For all the story says of him, he might have been a pillar of the community. Give him the benefit of the doubt; he may have contributed generously to the United Way campaign, been a patron of the arts in his home town, and served on the deacon board of his church. And it may well be that he periodically tossed some coins into the hands of the poor man who had stationed himself at his gate. Oh come now, you say, what proof do you have that the rich man in the story did all those good things? None whatsoever, I admit. But neither is there any proof that he didn't do all those good things. The story simply doesn't say. Neither does the story tell us much about Lazarus. All we know of him is that he was poor. Poverty does not equal goodness, nor does it equal badness. Poverty is simply poverty, that's all. A poor person can be a bad person or a good person. By the same token, a rich person can be good or bad. Now all this flies in the face of conventional wisdom. In both Jesus' day and our own day, the common assumption is that whether you are rich or poor, you somehow have reaped what you sowed. If you are poor, it's probably because you are dumb or lazy or maybe both. If you are well-off, it's because you are smart or hard-working and probably both. So this parable makes me uncomfortable because it challenges my biases. It overturns the common understanding about status and morality. Weighed in the scales of God's judgment, the rich man's high standing in the community doesn't help him one bit, nor does the poor man's low status harm him. Heavenly justice looks beneath the surface. But there is another reason for my discomfort. You see, at first glance, I can't really identify with either character in the story. I'm certainly not as bad off as poor Lazarus, lying on the street. Neither are you. But we are not as well fixed as the rich man in the story. You and I don't hob nob with the rich and famous; we don't get invited to dine at the White House. So, at first glance, this parable lets you and me off the hook. It doesn't seem to apply to us. But let's look more closely. How do you think our living standards look to a family living in the third world? What do our salary levels represent to a breadwinner in Afghanistan? From that perspective, it's clear that you and I represent the rich man in the parable. We do indeed dine sumptuously every day in contrast to starving people in the Sudan. Does that mean we are doomed to eternal torment? Well no, that isn't what the parable says. In fact, where I believe Jesus wants us to see ourselves in the parable is in the role of the rich man's brothers. Remember in the story how the rich man begged a favor of Abraham? "Send [Lazarus] to my father's house, for I have five brothers, so that he may warn them, lest they also come into this place of torment." But Abraham refused. "They have Moses and the prophets," he said; "let them hear them." What is the message of Moses and the prophets? Here is the prophet Jeremiah decrying the actions of the wealthy:
And these are the words of Isaiah the prophet:
Like the brothers of the rich man in the parable, you and I have the words of the prophets to guide us. Those words contain both warning and promise. The warning is that unless we are willing to share what we have with the less fortunate, we stand under God's judgment. The promise is that in sharing, we will reap rich blessing. Before us a table is set. It's a table that stretches around the world. Around this table gather people of every race and nationality, millions of people. But there are other millions in our world, people with no table or no food for their tables, people who, like Lazarus, desire to be fed with the food that falls from our tables. As we gather around the table of the Lord, let us remember these others, the poor. Let us ask God for the willingness to share our bounty with these others. May the bread and cup we partake of empower us to live for the glory of God and our neighbors' good. |
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The Rev. Dr. Kenneth L. Gibble