The begger at the rich man's gate

Today’s Gospel, 

the parable of Jesus about the rich man and the beggar Lazarus,

            is gripping in the imagination.

And initially what I wanted to do with it this time

            was to really get into a great spiel about the shape of the world

                                                                                    and economic justice.

This parable allows for a nice rant about the rich and the poor,

            for making comparisons between multinational corporations, for instance,

                        and exploited natural resources and exploited workers,

or for carrying on about the great disparities between the salaries

                        of CEO’s and the janitorial staff.

The Old Testament and especially the Prophets are passionate

            about God’s preferential option for the poor.

And this parable bears that out.

You might notice that in all the parables

            none of the characters have names except this one, Lazarus,

                        a name which means “God helps.”

Post-biblical tradition has given a name to the rich man too, 

            - Dives, which is simply the Latin word for wealth, riches.

This is a story that Jesus told for the benefit of the Pharisees

            who didn’t get it about the parable Jesus had just told his disciples,

                        the one that was the Gospel for last Sunday.

That was the story about the manager embezzling his boss’ property

            and then once he got fired,

                        set things up for himself with those in debt to his boss

                                    by cooking the books and reducing the amount they owed,

            so that they would have to be beholden to him

            or so that, if they weren’t quick to help him out, 

                        he could extort a little something from them in blackmail

                        to keep quiet about tampering with the actual amount of their debt.

Just a little tag-on there to last week’s sermon.

That parable is a nasty little story

            told to raise awareness among the disciples 

                        about faithfulness in stewardship

that ends with the declaration:

            “You cannot serve God and mammon.”

Well, the Pharisees took exception to all this.

            Jesus didn’t have the right theology about wealth.

The Pharisees were of the school that believed 

            that prosperity and wealth were a sign

                        that you were doing something right

                        and God was blessing you.

So Jesus, who engages with everyone who approached him,

            zeros in on their own theology

and tells them a story that confronts their major premise.

In this parable here is someone so successful, so blessed by God, 

            that he could afford to wear the most expensive clothes

                                    - purple and fine linen -

                        and could afford to have thanksgiving day every day.

That’s what the Greek word for feast here implies;

            it is to be glad, to have a feast for rejoicing.

Dives was very blessed by God, it would seem

            - until he died,

and then everything was turned around.

How could this happen?! the Pharisees might wonder.

Well, I was sitting in meditation, and a thought came along.

                        - Yes, thoughts do come along during meditation.

There was Lazarus in the bosom of Abraham,

            and Dives in the torment of hell,

and between them a great chasm.

What is the great chasm existing between the rich man and Lazarus?

It’s what the rich man did not see.

It was his failure to be open to and vulnerable to life,

                        to the suffering he saw right outside his gate

                                    in the face of all his merry making.

Lazarus was at his door begging.

            Dives had to have seen him as he went in and out.

The parable doesn’t indicate that the rich man was cruel to Lazarus.

            He didn’t chase him away.

            He didn’t kick him as he went in and out his door.

            Lazarus longed to eat whatever fell from the table

                        like those dogs who liked his sores,

            and it doesn’t say that Dives refused him that.

Maybe he gave him a handout now and then.

There was just enough interaction between them

            so that he knew Lazarus’ name and he could recognized him

                        across the great chasm fixed between them.

But even then in the recognition,

            Dives then wants Lazarus to do him a favor 

                        - maybe return the favor of a handout previously given -

                        and run an errand or two for him.

What did Dives not get, not understand?

It is obvious to us in a way that would have troubled the Pharisees.

You may have heard about what is called “compassion overload,”

            where you see so much suffering through the evening news

            or you get so many pleas in solicitation emails and letters for donations

that you become numb to all the human need and suffering

                        with which we are surrounded.

To see the suffering and to fail to be vulnerable to life -

            that is the great chasm which separates one from another.

It’s our self-protective isolation that locks another out of our awareness

            that will ever so surely confine us to hell,

            that will bring agony upon us.

It would do well for us to ponder and reflect on

            what the chasm is between ourselves and others.

What is the chasm that appears between us and our neighbors?

                        between members of the same family?

                        between members of this parish family

                                                                                    one with another?

And what would bridge that chasm?

What if Dives and Lazarus had sat down together at table?

            What if they had shared a meal?

What if it hadn’t been just a handout from Dives,

                        some crusts of bread?

What if there had been a whole Thanksgiving Day turkey dinner spread out

                                    that they shared?

The supper table is one of those sacred places that bridges the gap,

                                                            that closes the gulf.

It is a time of nourishment 

which is more than nourishment of the body; 

it is a time of communion.

And isn’t that what the Supper of Lamb, the Eucharist, does too?

Here is the supper table where we can feast with gladness and rejoicing,

            the Table spread with fine linen everyday.

And we all come to this Table the same way – humbly.

We kneel down at the Altar,

            or, if physically unable, kneel down in the attitude of our hearts.

We let someone else feed us.

We all eat from the same loaf,

            drink from the same cup,

            share in the One Body,

                        in the Blood of our One Lord, our common Savior.

Jesus gave himself as food for us,

            for the Lazarus persons

                        and for the Dives persons

                                    - all.

The Table is the place of reconciliation,

            a place for healing old divisions,

            the place where our Lord is made known in the breaking of the bread, 

                        when eyes are opened to see

                        and hearts now understand

                                    like the two disciples at home in Emmaus.

Where are the chasms in our own lives,

            the chasms caused by our failures to connect with our neighbor,

            the chasms of division between brothers and sisters.

It’s not just the chasm between the very wealthy man

                        who no longer noticed the abject beggar at his door.

It’s the chasm in our own self-awareness

                        that blocks our communion one with another.

Let us come to the Table together,            here

and then after we have feasted here in this breaking of the bread,

            we can continue the Great Thanksgiving in the parish hall

                        over coffee and cookies.

So it’s not a rant about the state of the world and economic justice after all,

            even though that’s something to think about too.

This is also a parable about how we open to one another            

            and how we can be with each other in our need.

We all are Dives and Lazarus both,

            so blessed with material blessings

            and also so abjectly in need.            

May our hearts be open to hear

            from the One who rose from the dead,

                        who invites us to table with him.

The Parable of the Dishonest Steward

Today I am going to talk about one of the parables of Jesus

            in a way that you probably haven’t heard before.

So be forewarned.

This is Jesus telling a shady story to the disciples.

The parable is addressed to the disciples

         for the purpose of furthering their discipleship process, that is,

                  for their growing awareness of God’s revelation,

                  for their readiness for the ministry of service to others,

                  and for their witness to the good news of the Gospel.

But the story itself is not at all about holy people, or even proper people.

Instead here is this fellow, a business manager,

who is ripping off his wealthy boss.

We might call him a loan shark,         

         and he is using his boss’s inventory of wheat and jugs of olive oil

                  for loans to people

         and charging pretty high interest rates.

When he is found out, he gets fired,

         and, of course, the business owner is going to be calling in

all those bogus loans, and everyone will have to pay up.

This guy’s actions are having a most undesirable ripple effect.

And the fired manager also finds himself in a desperate situation.

How is he going to survive?

         He’s not keen on digging ditches

         and he’s too proud to stand out on one of those busy intersections

                  with a cardboard sign that reads:

                  “Down on my luck.  Any little bit helps.  God bless.”

So he “cooks the books,” as we would say.

         That is, he subtracts the interest from the loan

         to ingratiate himself with everyone else also affected in the situation.

Now he may be a crook,

         but he knows the importance of relationships

                           and how community works,

                           and how that’s what he needs for survival.

 “The children of this age are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation

than are [you disciples,] the children of light,” Jesus tells them.

I think one thing this parable is pointing out,

                  if we need to look for a moral from the story

         - and there aren’t always morals that can be drawn from the parables,

or allegories -

one thing this parable is pointing out

         is that even crooks and loan sharks

can understand the significance and importance

of the community, of being in relationship,

         and how community serves their own best interest.

We are linked to community

         and whether that community is our social setting

or our family or our cultural/ethnic settings

                           or our faith community,

         we are interconnected in a deeply organic ecological system of life,

                                                                        or way of being.

We deeply affect each other in all that we do,

         and we are able to function and do what we do

because of what each one offers.

Life is not possible outside of community.

So on a very foundational, practical and life level,

         how do we, as disciples of Jesus, relate to and function in community?

So starting with this parable,

this provocative story about pragmatic use of wealth,

Jesus then goes on to talk about the way the disciples need to be –

         being faithful with even the least amount

of whatever treasure or wealth is available,

because how you are with the little things

         is how you will be with the greater things.

So if you are to be entrusted with the Kingdom of God, for instance,

                  as a disciple, a follower of Jesus,

         better look at how you are with the least portion of that Kingdom,

                           and what is treasured and valued here in the world.

That’s the point.

We are called to faithfulness in stewardship

         in whatever has been given to us,

                  so that we can be good disciples of Jesus,

and fill the nets, reap the harvest, bear much fruit for the Lord,

         as we read in other parts of the Gospels,

for that is the reason, the purpose of the disciple.

Every disciple, each one of us, if we claim to be followers of Jesus, it would seem,

         is not living for ourselves alone, but for our Lord,

                  and for the sake of the community.

Being faithful in one small area

         will indicate faithfulness in the much larger community.

What might the small thing, the small area be?

We could start with the stewardship of ourselves,

         - that’s one limited and finite area -

         who we are and what we have to offer in service to the world.

How do we nurture and foster and grow the self that we have been given?

         This is talking about a spiritual process.

One aspect of this, I think, is about integrity –

         integrity of service, integrity in our actions.

Integrity has to do with consistency for the whole:

         How we are with a little

                  will be how we are with a lot.

Jesus compared the Children of Light with the dishonest manager,

         and he observed that the dishonest manager was

                  more shrewd, astute, and effective in his operation in this world,

         specifically for his own best interests.

But the key for Children of Light to be as effective, Jesus tells us,

         is to love just one master: love God wholly.

It won’t work to try to have it both ways.

Total commitment, trust, AND identification with one or the other, God or wealth.

 “No slave can serve two masters – the master of self-interest AND God as master –

         for a slave will either hate the one and love the other,

         or be devoted to the one and despise the other.”

Well, we can ask ourselves: to whom we are slaves, who is the master,

who has control over me?

We would like to think that we are the masters of ourselves,

         rather than slaves.

Well, what we do shows more about our core identity

than what we say.

We may recognize that we are not as committed to God,

         as we may like to say that we are or want to be.

We cannot save ourselves;

         we cannot turn ourselves into good disciples all on our own.

We are in need of God’s love and mercy and grace.

And get this!:  Good stewardship of ourselves as disciples

                  is making use of the wealth of God’s mercy and grace,

                  realizing this great treasure is abundantly present for us.

The word here in this passage of the Gospel for wealth is mammon,

         which can be understood simply as treasure,

                           what is treasured, what is trusted on,

and in the case of this story about the dishonest manager,

what he treasures is dishonest profit, unrighteous profit.

In our case mammon can be considered to be whatever is trusted upon as treasure,

         whatever is valued, whatever our hearts attach to,

         and therefore whatever can become idolatrous for us

and vies for our loyalty as master.

What do I treasure?

         Is it that which expresses the values of the Kingdom of God,

         or what serves self-interest and self-aggrandizement?

It may do some good to do some personal reflection about this!

Personally I do this best by meditating.

         Meditation gives the chance to sit with the truth of myself

                  to see where my heart is and my treasure is.

And then meditation as a way to be open to realizing

just how much God loves me,

         how much God is devoted to us,

         how abundant the mercy and grace are,

                  that this is the treasure of the Kingdom of Heaven.

If I can be faithful in recognizing

where I place worth and value in my own life,

and if I am seeking to serve one master,

                  not myself but our Lord,

         then I am cooperating with the process of discipleship,         and consequently,

                  this has an effect for the whole community of life.

This is being entrusted with greater things, this is being a child of the Light.

I offer these thoughts and reflections on the Gospel reading for today

         as some provocation for each of us

                  to consider that we all are accountable to the faith community

                           for fruitful ministry in service among each other,

                                             to one another and to the world.

Let those words of the Gospel for today sink in;

         think about it, ruminate on it, if the shoe fits…

But let us with all integrity and astuteness be faithful as Children of Light.