The scriptures referred to are 1 Timothy 6:6-19 and Luke 16:19-31.
I have gone to
Hell. Hell, Michigan, that is. It is an unincorporated town which has
capitalized on its unfortunate name to sell merchandise. But though I
can't find it on the internet, I swear it once had an attraction that
featured tableaux of famous sinners in hell. My brother and I, having seen
the billboards, pestered our parents until they stopped and
reluctantly bought tickets. It wasn't much. Mannequins behind glass
represented Pontius Pilate and other Biblical bad guys in hell. I
remember the one with the rich man from today's gospel looking
longingly at a ghostly hand with a single drop of water hanging from
its index finger. It was the most impressive exhibit of an admittedly
disappointing tourist trap.
I think we
often draw out of this parable lessons that Jesus didn't intend. Such
as trying to construct a spacial map of heaven and hell. I think
Jesus has Abraham and the rich man within viewing and speaking
distance of each other for storytelling reasons. If their locations were absolutely removed from each other, the crucial interaction
between the two couldn't take place. I don't think Jesus is as concerned
about constructing a realistic picture of the afterlife as he is
making his point.
And what is his
point? To discern that, we do need to map out the larger section of
Luke's gospel in which we find this pericope.
In Chapter 15,
the Pharisees are muttering about Jesus' company, which at this point
is made up mainly of tax collectors and sinners. So Jesus tells the
parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the so-called prodigal
son. The point of those is how much God and his kingdom rejoice over
those who repent. In the prodigal son, Jesus introduces a righteous
son, who is furious over his father's willingness to forgive. The
righteous son is depicted as being faithful to the father, in
contrast to the younger son. He is obviously a stand-in for the
self-righteous Pharisees. But then Jesus seems to question whether
they are really as faithful as they would like others to think. So he
tells the story of the dishonest steward, who fiddles with the books
when his master decides to fire him. The Pharisees instantly pick up
on the subtext and mock Jesus. In response, Jesus says, “You are
the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of men but God knows your
hearts. What is highly valued among men is detestable in God's
sight.” In other words, diminishing what people owe God in order to
win friends is not acceptable. And Jesus follows this up by talking
about how the least stroke of the Law is more permanent than heaven
and earth. He singles out the lax divorce standards of his day.
Which brings us
to our gospel passage. How does this thread of repentance and
faithfulness to God's law manifest itself in this story?
Last Sunday, I
quoted at length a passage from Deuteronomy in which God commands his
people not to be stingy to their poor brothers and sisters. It
actually says, “If there is a poor
person among you, one of your brothers within any of your gates of
the land the Lord your God is giving you, you must not be hardhearted
or tightfisted toward your poor brother.” (Deut 15:7) After
painting a picture of the rich man's extravagant lifestyle, where
does Jesus place poor sick Lazarus? At the man's gate! So the rich
man is violating not just the spirit of God's law but a specific
commandment. The result is that, unrepentant, the rich man goes to hell.
Remember,
last Sunday we established that having wealth is not a sin, provided
one has earned it through honest, hard work and is generous to
others. It's this last condition that the rich man in the Jesus'
parable has violated in a rather flagrant manner. He had to pass by
and perhaps step over Lazarus every time he opened his gate. He
didn't even give the poor man his leftovers. This guy is callous.
Why
was he like this? People are motivated by 3 categories of emotions: their needs, their desires and their fears. It's quite possible that the man got rich
simply trying to meet his needs. Or possibly it was his father, since
the man has 5 brothers that are in the same situation. So this guy
may have inherited his wealth. And he had more than he needed. So why
wouldn't he share?
It
could be the desire to simply have more. Some people can't give up even a
small part of what they have because they have this pathological need
to have more. It may be a competitive spirit. I have heard of
millionaires who don't really need a bigger yacht but want one bigger
than that of their neighbors or a rival. That's just greed and
selfishness.
Some
people have bought into the idea that more stuff means more
happiness. Our whole marketing industry is built on this. They sell
you stuff you don't need on the premise that you will be happier if
you purchase it. But those who buy into this idea eventually run into the
law of diminishing returns: the more stuff they get, the less kick
they get out of it. After a while it is no longer new, no longer
shiny and mysterious, and they have to get more stuff to get that
rush again. (I think some people who marry very often are like that.) And some people are able to delude themselves for their whole lives
with such an obsession. Others realize that this constant
inflammation of desire is a fraudulent way to live and get
disillusioned with accumulating material possessions. It can lead to
repentance or it can lead to despair. Is that what happened to the
rich man in the story? He should have died a great deal later than
poor starving Lazarus. Did he kill himself out of disillusion and
despair? (Although that level of detail is not really important to the
point of the story.)
One
last motivation for acquiring lots of money or possessions is fear.
Some rich people started out quite poor and it is fear of ever being
in that state again that drives them to succeed. The sad thing is
that they can never relax and enjoy their wealth because of the nagging
fear that it could all go away. Such fear is really a lack of trust
in God. It is not believing that he will provide your needs. It is
doubting his goodness and love.
Paul
in our passage from 1 Timothy has learned to be content with the
basics: food and clothing. He has seen how the frantic scrabbling for
riches has derailed many lives. And he has learned that “the love
of money is a root of all kinds of evils.” That's a much better
translation of the original Greek than the old King James version. It
is “a” root, not “the” root, and it is “all kinds of
evils,” not “all evil.” But while it may not be the cause of
everything that's wrong with the world, it can certainly account for
a lot of it. Money is necessary for buying what we need but if you
fall in love with it, then your relationship to wealth and material
goods becomes warped. It's easy to hoard but hard to give away what
you love.
We have people starving and living in poverty in this
world, not because there is insufficient food or money, but because
it is so unevenly distributed. It is because of the secular version
of the Golden Rule: he who has the gold makes the rules. For instance, it is the
boards of directors and CEOs who determine that not only is their
work more valuable than the people who actually turn out the products
they sell or perform the services they offer but that it is hundreds
of times more valuable. Specifically, the average CEO makes 273 times
what the average worker makes. In 1965, it was only 20 times as much.
The average pay for CEOs at the top 350 companies, including stock
options, is $14 million. That means, if they worked 40 hours a week
for 50 weeks with 2 weeks paid vacation, their hourly wage would be
$6730.76 or more than $112 a minute. Makes you wonder why they balk
at paying people more than $7.25, the current minimum wage. Or to put
it in terms they understand, what they make every 3.8 seconds. I'm
not saying that what they do isn't valuable but is what they do every
2 and a quarter hours worth as much as what a minimum wage employee
does in a whole year? Because that's the equivalency.
Henry Ford
decided to pay his workers enough that they could afford to buy the
cars they made in his factories. A lot of poverty, at least in the
industrialized parts of the world, could be alleviated if employers
paid their employees enough to live on. It's not like we have CEOs
moonlighting to put food on the table.
As we said last
time, there are wealthy people, like Bill Gates, Warren Buffett, and
J.K. Rowling who are generous. But those who aren't generous are
driven by selfish greed or a fearful distrust of God's goodness.
Jesus doesn't specify what motivates the rich man in his parable.
Because while I'm sure Jesus was telling this story partly as an
illustration of his earlier statement that you cannot serve both God
and money, that's really not the main point of this story. And I
think, like the lurid picture of hell Jesus paints, we get so caught
up in the politics of money that we don't pay attention to the moral
of the story.
If it weren't
for the last 4 verses of this passage, we might conclude that Jesus
is just teaching us about the punishment for being an uncaring rich
person. But the rich man is not so wrapped up in his agony that he
doesn't think of others. Lazarus may not have meant anything to him
in his earthly life, but the rich man does worry about his 5
brothers, whom he obviously thinks are as tightfisted as he was. So
he asks that, if Lazarus can't bring him a drop of water, (remember:
he never did anything for Lazarus), could he at least return to earth
to warn his brothers? Notice that Abraham doesn't say that Lazarus
couldn't, just that, as good Jews, they should hear regularly the
teachings of Moses and the prophets, with all of their commandments
to help the poor.
The rich man
knows his brothers only too well. God's word won't move them to
change their self-indulgent and uncharitable lifestyles. But if
Lazarus came back from the dead, they would repent. Notice anything
telling about this? Apparently his brothers would recognize Lazarus
as someone they knew who had died. That means they also had passed the
beggar by without doing anything for his hunger or his sores. The
rich man is right. They are going to join him if they don't turn to
God.
And that leads
us to our moral. Abraham replies, “If they do not listen to Moses
and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone
rises from the dead.”
Jesus took the
thread he'd started on repentance, on how wealth corrupts and leads
to unfaithfulness to God and brought it around to the main point:
resistance to repentance even in the face of resurrection.
All of the
synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke, tell of how Jesus raised
the daughter of Jairus, the synagogue leader, from the dead. In
addition Luke tells us of how Jesus raised the son of widow of Nain
from the dead. Wouldn't you think that would cause any clear-thinking
person, including Pharisees, to accept what Jesus said and did as
coming from God? You want to say “Yes.” But did it? No. In fact,
Jesus raising his friend Lazarus from the dead was the tipping point
in the plot against Jesus. Rather than saying, “He is from God,” his enemies said with dismay, “Everyone is going to believe in him!” But
not them! They were were more concerned over their position and their
relationship with Rome than with the obvious implications of a man
who raises the dead and speaks for God.
How could this
be? Actually, scientists have discovered it is very hard to change
people's minds even when they are faced with evidence that undercuts
their belief system. In studies they found that people nitpick news
reports and scientific studies that contradict deeply-held beliefs,
looking for exceptions and flaws. And if they find just one, no
matter how tiny or irrelevant to the main thrust of the argument,
they will seize upon it as sufficient reason to disbelieve the whole
lot. They will even lose the ability to do basic math if, say, shown
charts and figures that disprove their beliefs.
Think of the
folks who still say President Kennedy was not shot by Oswald despite
all the scientific recreations that showed no need for a second
shooter and even that a bullet fired through one body will tumble in
flight causing the odd trajectory that also wounded Governor
Connelly. Think of the people who believe that commercial jets alone
did not bring down the Twin Towers, despite all the forensic and
engineering evidence that they did. Think of all the people who
think Jesus never existed, despite all the documentary and historical
evidence, accepted by every reputable historian, that he did.
Classicist
Michael Grant wrote a book about the gospels and when he got to the
resurrection of Jesus, he said as a historian he could not treat it
as he would any other event in Jesus' life. And yet he admitted that
it was difficult if not impossible to understand the change in the
disciples and the phenomenal growth of the early church without the
resurrection being real.
Jesus knew that
even his resurrection would not convince his most hardened critics,
those who could not be objective, nor listen to the evidence.
(Perhaps that why he rather cheekily names the proposed resurrectee in the parable after the friend he raised from the dead.) People will believe what
they want to believe, especially when changing their position would
be inconvenient or embarrassing. The cost is just too high for most
people. Sir Anthony Flew, the renowned atheist philosopher, was
viciously attacked by his former admirers when he changed his mind on
the existence of God. When C.S. Lewis gave up his faith in atheism,
admitted that God was God and prayed, he described himself as "the
most dejected and reluctant convert in all England." Paul not only gained enemies when
he turned from persecutor of the church to its foremost missionary,
but it took a while for other Christians to trust him. There is a
cost to turning your thinking and life around. It is the rare
individual who can do it.
But Jesus
wasn't aiming for the average person who has made up his mind and
doesn't want any inconvenient facts to confuse him. He was aiming for
the open-minded, the person who is willing to examine his
pre-conceptions of the world, the person who can be persuaded by the
moral truth found in the Bible, the person who knows he needs to
change the way he is living and who would be prepared to follow Jesus
even before hearing of his resurrection.
Jesus'
resurrection changed the people who knew him and those they
encountered who were open to the good news. The authorities who had
Jesus killed, though they could not produce his body and thus quash
the story of his resurrection, did not change their minds. It would
have been political suicide for Pilate or even Caiaphas the high
priest to admit to the public that they were so wrong as to condemn
and crucify the Messiah--assuming they could even admit such a thing
to themselves. In fact, it would take 300 years before any governor
or emperor would be brave enough to declare himself a Christian. And
even then they tried to make their “Lord” serve the state's
agenda.
People's needs,
desires and fears can motivate them to change. They can also motivate
them to stay the same, when change costs too much and scares them too
badly. They didn't crucify Jesus for being a supporter of the status
quo. And when he rose, those who had too much invested in the
political, religious and economic status quo, tried to ignore it.
They went on as if nothing happened. Because if they didn't believe
Moses and the prophets they wouldn't be convinced even if someone
rose from the dead.
Jesus knew
this. He knew not everyone would come to him, just as he knew that
not everyone who said they would follow him would give up their other
masters, whether they were their desires for wealth or popularity or
power or to be safe. Those are most of humanity's main desires. And
the last, “to be safe,” points to our greatest fears: pain and
death. Following Jesus is not safe. Never has been. Jesus said,
“anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my
disciple.” Because if you carry your cross, it keeps your mind on
the essentials, the point of the story, of our story, of history
itself: that God is love, love expressed concretely, self-sacrificial
love. The point of our cross is that it reminds that this is how we
must live our lives. It is a reminder that one day we will die. But
it is also a reminder that death is not the end of the story. It is
in fact the prologue to a new story, the story of a new life in a new
body in a glorious new creation where there is no pain or death or
mourning or crying, for God will wipe away every tear and he who is
Love Incarnate will be with us forever.