Sermon at Emmanuel, September 29, 2013

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, being a Franciscan and all,

            was to really get into a great spiel about economic justice.

This parable, combined with the Epistle reading for today,

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

            for making comparisons between multinational corporations, for instance,

                        or those out-sourcing jobs to third world countries

                        and then exploiting workers,

or for carrying on about the great disparities between the salaries

                        of CEO’s and their average employees’ salaries.

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 in 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.

You might remember that

it 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.

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.

Here was 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 sumptuous feasts every day.

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 Dives 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 feasting.

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 the dogs got to do

                        - 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 the poor man’s name and recognized Lazarus

                        across the great chasm fixed between them.

But even then in the recognition,

            Dives then wants Lazarus to do him a favor, run an errand for him

                        - maybe return the favor of a handout previously given.

What did Dives not get, not understand?

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

I’ve heard it called “compassion overload,”

            or where you see so much suffering through the evening news

            or you get so many pleas in solicitation letters for charities

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?

                        and possibly between members of this parish family?

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 Dives had a whole feast spread out and then shared it with Lazarus?

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

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

                                    - for all.

The Table is the place of reconciliation,

            a place for healing 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 communion at the coffee hour – and beyond.

So this sermon is not a rant about 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. 

If every child is taught to meditate...

            The summer seems to have flown by.  For me this summer has been full of activity, and I have been away a lot.  I was blest with a very good two week meditation retreat, and recently I was able to spend a week with my dear grandsons.

            When I stay with my daughter and son-in-law, I like to get up early before the rest of the family and meditate, but my youngest grandson, five year old Kai, is also an early riser.  One morning I was sitting on the bed on a pillow in a full lotus pose when I heard little footsteps on the stairs.  The door to my room slowly opened as I kept my eyes closed in meditation.  Kai slipped quietly into the room and climbed up on the bed next to me.  He assumed the pose he had seen by Rafiki, the wise mandrill (baboon) in The Lion King. 

            I asked him if he knew what he was doing.  “Yes,” he said, “I’m meditating with you.”  “What is meditation?” I asked him.  He said that it was the way he was sitting.  So we engaged in a conversation about how to sit.  I told him about the four silences: silent spine – sitting with the back straight and still; silent hands – lying still on the thighs or in the lap; silent eyes – lids closed and still; and silent tongue – the tongue remaining still in the mouth.  Then I said that the only thing we have to do then is to watch the breath, just keep watching the breath.  We sat in silence with great stillness, simply being without doing.  He got it.  After about five minutes Kai announced, “I’m done.  Let’s go have breakfast.”

            The Dalai Lama is quoted as having said, “If every eight year old in the world is taught meditation, we will eliminate violence from the world within one generation.”  This is an interest thought.  What is it about meditation that would make it an antidote for violence?  Well, if we look at the Prayer of the Lamb we can see how that could become possible.  “Yeshua/Jesus, Lamb of God, have mercy on us.”  The more we meditate with this prayer, or the more we may come to see that I cannot pray for myself in isolation or for you without including myself.  We are in relationship.  And then when we come to see that this abundant and spontaneous mercy unconditionally flows to all regardless of worthiness, we are better able to recognize how my need for mercy is of the same nature as your need for mercy.  The distance between persons is shortened.  Life becomes more intimately shared.  The idea that another could be an enemy or a competitor becomes less and less tenable.  The need for violence and the desire for it reduce, and the other becomes a much more interesting and appealing person.  Compassion replaces fear.

            So keep on meditating.  Until this mercy and love of God become an experienced reality for us, we need to make good use of this excellent spiritual resource of meditation practice.  Practice is the word.  Practice, practice, practice.  Keep on meditating.

Beverly

Sermon for August 11 at Emmanuel, Mercer Island

The week before last I was in Spokane.

I was helping my mother and sister combine households

                        and move in together into a new home.

As is typical with any move,

            we get to notice how much stuff we have acquired over the years.

                        Where did this all come from?

Any move give us the opportunity

            to reflect on our relationship with possessions.

We may notice how we tend to cart stuff around with us.

Sometimes the things we have don’t even get unpacked from the last move,

            but we keep bringing them along with us just the same;

                        we wouldn’t think of letting them go.

A prime example might be old photo albums – that’s personal identity stuff!

            even the old photos of ancestors 3 or 4 generations back now

                        whom we never did get grandmother to label with names

                                    before she herself went to join them at the cemetery.

And then there is all the stuff that might have a need someday,

                        probably the day after we get rid of it,

            or it might come back in style.

All of what we amass and possess is part of our personal identity.

Our treasures are there in all the stuff,

                        all the things loaded with associations, memories or hopes,

            we keep them all.                                    Or they keep us.

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

This last week I participated in a right of passage,

                        what inevitably an opera lover must do.

            I attended the 4 opera Ring Cycle of Wagner.

It is the most massive artistic and musical stage production ever created.

This tetralogy presented a whole new way of being and form for opera,

It is an original creative work.

This is the origin and source in popular mythology

            for so much that has become part of our culture.

Any fan of Tolkien would recognize where he got the basic plot line

                        for the Lord of the Rings trilogy,

            or where the Klingons came from in Star Trek.

Even Darth Vader is foreshadowed in the sinister character of Hagen,                                                                                                                                                 Alberich’s son.

It is a goldmine (pun intended) for Freudians and Jungian analysts.

Meaning of cosmic scope pours out through every measure of music.

Now, in the story the Rheingold is a treasure that is irresistible.

The dwarf Alberich lusts after it,

            and renounces love in order to possess it.

He forges a ring from it,

            a ring to control and have power and safeguard the hoard.

But Alberich is then tricked and has the treasure stolen from him,

            so he places a curse of death upon the gold

                        for any who would possess it or wield the ring.

The giant brothers, Fasolt and Fafner, then get possession of the gold,

            and immediately Fafner kills his brother to have the ring for himself.

And then in traditional fashion

            Fafner sits guard over the hoard and turns into a dragon.

The treasure possesses its owner.

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

In the Gospel of Luke

            Jesus has a most unconventional and contrasting response to treasure,

                        to gold, wealth, possessions that are amassed.

Last week in the Gospel reading

            Jesus told the parable about the rich man

                        whose land had produced a bumper crop

                        and who responded by hoarding it, building a bigger barn,

                                    so that he could have this wealth

                                    to see him through for a long time to come.

Unfortunately for the rich man his time was up.

Today in the Gospel we hear these words from Jesus,

            “Sell your possessions, and give alms.

            Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out,

            an unfailing treasure in heaven…

            For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Sell your possessions…

Come on now, does Jesus really want everybody to do that?

Can’t we just spiritualize what he said

            to mean something like holding lightly to our possessions,

                        or not forgetting to share

                        or being appropriately generous?

Nope.

Jesus said a lot of hard things

because this is the way to get across to people really important truths.

The thing is, the way we think about treasure is in terms of ownership.

Mine.

We possess things and call them our possessions.

Ownership makes up much of the subject matter of our laws,

            I once heard about 90%.

Consider this, that ownership is tightly linked with identity.

Our possessions give us identity in the community.

            They designate a standing or class in society

                                                based on the amount of value of what we possess.

            If we have a high school diploma or a college degree

                        that is a possession that defines us.

            The clothes we wear, the cars we drive are possessions

                        that present us with specific identity.

Our possessions mark us off as separate and individual from everyone else.

But ownership is delusional,

            and possessions are no guarantee of security.

We don’t get this.

Our whole economy system is based upon false security and denial.

If you think about this for awhile, you will see that it is so.

Jesus says sell all your stuff.

He’s got a different kind of treasure in mind,

            a treasure in heaven which has much greater durability.

And you don’t even have to work for this,

            because, he says,

                        “It is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

In place of ownership – possession - having

            Jesus would call us into discipleship with him,

                        to live as he did – that is, by faith.

Look at Jesus.

No where in the Gospels do we find anything to indicate

            that Jesus owned anything whatsoever save the clothes on his back.

He didn’t even have a home; he was homeless.

            Matthew 8:20

                        “Foxes have their dens, and birds of the air have nests,

                        but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”

To  discover real faith one must give up the ownership thing.

Francis of Assisi did,

            and they said about him

            that possessing nothing the whole world was his.

It’s dangerous asking a Franciscan to preach on this Gospel text for today.

As a Third Order Franciscan one of the aims of my Order is to live simply.

To quote from our Principles:

“The first Christians surrendered completely to our Lord

and recklessly gave all that they had,

offering the world a new vision of a society

in which a fresh attitude was taken towards material possessions. 

This vision was renewed by Saint Francis

when he chose Lady Poverty as his bride,

desiring that all barriers set up by privilege based on wealth

should be overcome by love. 

This is the inspiration for the third aim of the Society, to live simply.”

Well, as you can see by now,

            the kind of sermon I am preaching is a stewardship sermon.

But it’s not the kind where you are encouraged to fill out a pledge card

            and up your giving from last year.

It is a stewardship sermon about examining our relationship with treasure

            and linking it with Jesus around the issue of faith and discipleship.

We can’t even imagine what no ownership is.

so typically we even want to try to own the process of faith

rather than living by faith,

            or more specifically to be lived by the process of faith working in us

            through the Holy Spirit, the Presence of the Resurrection Jesus in us.

For so many ownership is primary

            and faith is a category in one corner of our lives

                        that we also want to have ownership over.

We substitute ownership for faith.

But Jesus says, “Walk as I walk.

            I give you a spirituality, a way of life.”

The Church tends to want to hear about faith in the form of

            the definition given in Heb. 11:1

“Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”

… and not hear about faith in terms of discipleship.

We want to own the process instead of living by the process of faith,

            or more accurately, to be lived by faith,

                        to know that we are being lived by

                        the One in whom we live and more and have our being.

Admittedly this is hard to get across.

To live by faith is to live in creation where ownership does not exist

            and to love in the way that is self-forgetting.

I can talk this way because of what I have discovered through meditation.

Meditation is a spiritual practice that employs non-ownership,

            so it’s a good way to become available to discovering how this is.

Meditation is non-ownership.

At the end of the 4^th opera of Wagner’s Ring,

            Brunnhilde represents the love

                        Alberich had renounced in order to possess the ring.

She returns the ring back to the Rhine from which it came.

It is the downfall, doom and end of the world.

Everything goes up in flames,

            including Valhalla, the stronghold of the gods.

The whole world order that lusted after possessing the treasure

                        dies in the purifying flames

            through the faithful, self giving of love

                        in the act of returning what cannot be possessed.

And the curtain falls

            as a new scene is revealed

                        of creation fresh and young springing green.