Sermon: Seeing Lazarus, hearing the prophets (Sept. 29, 2019)

Pentecost 16C

September 29, 2019

Luke 16:19-31

INTRODUCTION

         Back at the beginning of Luke, when Mary first found out she was pregnant with Jesus, she sang this beautiful song known as the Magnificat. In it, she states all the ways that this child, Jesus, would bring about a great reversal of the world as she knew it. “The mighty will be thrown down and the lowly lifted high,” she sang. “The hungry will be filled and the rich sent away empty.” These themes have proven strong ones in Luke’s Gospel, and today’s passage is one explicit example: the story of Lazarus and the rich man. Where last week’s parable of the dishonest manager is difficult because it is confusing, this week’s is difficult because it is clear: the rich, lover of wealth ends up tormented in Hades after his death, and Lazarus, the poor man at his gate, enjoys comfort and the company of angels for all eternity. Paired with Amos, who also rails against those who care more about their riches than about caring for the poor, and Timothy, who warns us that the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil… we have a very convicting line-up for today!

         But don’t feel condemned too quickly. None of these texts say that wealth, by itself, is a bad thing. Each of them compel us to look around us at those who suffer, and to use our resources – be that wealth, or talents, and position, or power – to bring about God’s vision as expressed in Mary’s song: to fill the hungry, lift up the lowly, and, as Paul writes to Timothy, “pursue righteousness, godliness, love, endurance and gentleness.” Easy-peasy, right?

         As you listen, notice when you feel convicted in this word. You might even have a pencil ready and just circle those parts. And then, just sit with that. Let those convicting parts work in your heart, reflect on why you feel convicted, and listen for what God might be trying to say to you through them. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

         In the past week or so, millions of young climate activists have taken the world by storm, led by 16-year-old Swede, Greta Thunberg. Greta, who cites her Asperger’s as a “superpower” that has helps her to focus so singularly on this important issue, spoke powerfully to world leaders of the United Nations, as she articulately and passionately expressed the urgency of addressing our warming planet. Now, I am someone who cares deeply about the environment and tries to do my part – but I still felt very convicted and uncomfortable as I listened to her powerful speech.

         I’m by no means the only one. In the days that followed, though many praised her for her bravery and activism, Greta also became the object of ridicule by news personalities, social media, and even the president. In my own circles, I witnessed people say things like, “Who is feeding her these words, anyway?” and, “She is a puppet of someone rich, using her to promote the liberal agenda,” and, “She’s just a kid – what does she know?” And these were just the sermon-appropriate comments! Even as comments like these enrage me… I also get it. Because her message is a really, really difficult one to hear. And to heed the warning she and other young activists are giving would require some big and scary changes – changes that will drastically affect the way I live my life and the comforts I enjoy, changes that will disrupt our world economy in a very real way. All that is very unsettling, and it is a lot easier, at least in the short term (the very short term, according to the report by the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change that also came out this week), it is easier to ignore this problem, discredit this passionate young women and the millions of youth activists she has helped rally, and just go about business as usual. After all, I don’t live on an island that is slowly disappearing, or in a coastal city that gets bombarded by hurricanes each year. I’m not one the 200 species going extinct every day. My home isn’t burning, at least not yet.[1] So I can just ignore this problem… right?

         I wonder if that is how the rich man felt each day as he walked by the beggar, Lazarus, sitting by his front gate? “Well that’s sad,” he probably thought. “I wonder what he did to get himself in that situation? Well, at least he’s got some dogs for company, and oh look, they are even helping him clean his sores! Aren’t dogs the best? But that’s really a shame about Lazarus. Maybe I’ll say a prayer for him later. Hm, I wonder what is for dinner tonight? Something sumptuous, I’m sure!” And then he lifted his purple robe, skirted around Lazarus, and went back to his comfortable home to lounge and love life.

         “Alas for those who lounge on their couches,” Amos exhorts, “and eat lambs from the flock and calves from the stall. Alas.” Yes, Greta Thunberg isn’t the first prophet in history to call people out of their comfortable lifestyles to take a good hard look at the consequences of their negligence. Really, that’s kind of the prophet’s schtick – we’ve been hearing such things from Amos and others these past weeks. “You cannot go on living this way,” Amos and the other prophets say. “This is not what God has called you to do. This is not what is in the law given to Moses. You’re focused more on wealth than on caring for the poor. You keep living this way, and you will meet your doom.” Or as Greta said in her speech, “People are suffering. People are dying. Entire ecosystems are collapsing. We are in the beginning of a mass extinction. And all you can talk about is money and fairytales of eternal economic growth. How dare you!”

It’s hard not to hear words like Greta’s, and feel the churning in our stomachs, and feel our blood pressure rise, and imagine that this must be what it felt like to hear the words of the biblical prophets. Because whether in the 8^th century BCE or the 21^st century, whether on a personal scale or a global one, being faced with a difficult truth is no fun at all. We are, by nature, resistant to change. We are resistant to recognizing our complicity in the Big Issues of the day. Our first response to words like these is more likely indignance than thoughtful reflection. Just like Adam and Eve’s very first sin, we are inclined first toward blame and finger-pointing, rather than taking responsibility.

Greta was interviewed on Comedy Central’s The Daily Show last week. Host Trevor Noah asked her, what is one thing everyone should do to address this? Her answer was, “Inform yourself.” I was waiting for her to say something like, “Give up meat,” or, “Drive less,” but no: she asked humanity to look inside our hearts with humility, make ourselves vulnerable enough to learn, to face the uncomfortable, inconvenient truth of our sin and complicity, and truly see the problem. To see the people dying, the people suffering, the ecosystems collapsing, the edge of mass extinction, the eye instead toward a greedy economy. To see the ruin of Joseph, the ruin of Earth. To see the beggar Lazarus at our own gate – to look into his eyes, and see his dog-licked sores, his pain, his hunger, and not only to care about it, but also to recognize in it our own humanity, our own mortality, our own brokenness and pain.

This is difficult, painful, vulnerable work. Isn’t it remarkable that God did that work for us? That God sent His own Son to see us in our humanity, our pain, our sores, our poverty? That God went so far as to become one of us, to see us that up-close? You see, God knows, Jesus knows, our struggles, and how easy it is for us just to turn away, or discredit the messenger, or lift up our purple robes and step around the problem. Yes, Jesus knows all of this about us… and he loves us still. He died for us still. He defeated death for us still – so that even when we are faced with such uncomfortable truth, we need not be too afraid to listen and respond. We can face that reality, and the immense change addressing it will require of us – and we can step out in faith to do something about it.

In the torment of Hades, the rich man begs, “Please send Lazarus to warn my brothers, so that they may not come into this place of torment.” Abraham reminds him that his brothers have Moses and the law, and they have the difficult words of the prophets like Amos, and that should be enough – why would a man sent back from the dead make any difference? But for us, a man who comes back from the dead makes all the difference – because that man, Jesus Christ, when he defeated death, he also defeated all the fears that would hold us captive and keep us from fulfilling God’s difficult, demanding, and sometimes very inconvenient mission. That man raised from the dead gave us the life that really is life. Assured of this promise, let us be bold to listen to the prophets, to see the beggar, and to serve the world.

Let us pray…  Creator God, we are resistant to change, even change that is necessary for the flourishing of your creation. Give us wisdom and courage truly to see the brokenness of the world, and transform our fears into trust, so that we would be bold to take necessary risks for the sake of healing the world. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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[1] My hometown in Northern California: https://www.sfchronicle.com/california-wildfires/article/Fearful-of-being-the-next-Paradise-Grass-Valley-14061525.php

Sermon: Being faithful in the messiness of life (Sept. 22, 2019)

Pentecost 15C

September 22, 2019

Luke 16:1-13

INTRODUCTION

         The section of Luke we hear from today and next week are both concerned with how we manage our money – a good lead-in to October, during which we will focus on stewardship. Today, both Luke and Amos will give us a chance to reflect on one of the prevailing sins in our world: greed. In Amos, the prophet rails against those who can’t wait to get past the sabbath so they can start making money again, and not just making money, but doing so in a way that takes advantage of the poor by messing with the standard currencies. Amos warns us that the Lord will not forget this deceitfulness!

         But Luke will give us a different view, in one of Jesus’ more challenging but incredibly gracious parables: the dishonest, or shrewd, manager. In this parable, the manager, or steward, of a rich man’s property will squander that property, and then try to salvage his reputation by even more dishonest means… only to then be commended by the rich man! The difference in Amos and Luke is that in one, the poor are taken advantage of, and in the other, they are helped.

         One more comment about our readings, about Timothy. I have heard some comments from people both in the positive and in the negative about the fact that we pray aloud each week for our president. Though I won’t be preaching on it, the passage we will hear today from Timothy is the reason we do that. I’m happy to talk more about that if you’d like.

         Ok, as you listen: both Amos and Luke deal with the messiness of human relationships and emotions, especially in relation to wealth, so as you listen, think about your own relationship with money, and how that affects your relationships with people, those you know and those you don’t know. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

         The sort of scandal that starts Jesus’ parable is not unfamiliar to us – in fact, it happens all the time, in businesses and even in churches! A rich man had put a manager, or steward, in charge of his property and finances, and that steward gets involved in some sort of scandal, embezzlement or the like. Not surprisingly, the rich man calls in the steward, and says, “Give me the books, and get out. I don’t want you to be my steward anymore. You’re fired.”

Well, what is a well-educated man who’s never done a lick of manual labor supposed to do now? His new reputation won’t help him – surely no one will hire him as a manager again, knowing of his dishonest past. He is too weak to do manual labor, and he is too prideful to beg. What other option does he have?

He is desperate… and I think that is an important thing to stop for a moment and notice, because desperation is something we are all familiar with, isn’t it? And though it is no fun, it is sometimes a necessary stop along the way! So often, we don’t realize or understand what must be done to turn our lives around until we simply have no other option. We often call this “rock bottom.” I read a memoir of a woman who was a drug addict and alcoholic and eventually turned her life around and became a pastor. In the book, she reflects on waking up one Christmas morning, having been drunk since 10am the day before, beside someone she did not know. What horrified her the most about this scenario was that none of this horrified her anymore. She went to AA to try to prove to herself and her friends that she wasn’t an alcoholic, but instead, she recognized there her need for help, her need for grace. Turns out, she was desperate, even more than she realized.

Have you ever felt desperate? Maybe not in quite the same way as that woman, but individuals, businesses, even churches may feel desperate for any number of other reasons – certainly financial, but also emotional. Like, you’ve tried everything, and you are so burnt out and tired that you can’t give any more energy and don’t have any more ideas. Or maybe you were already bearing a lot, but then you got the dreaded diagnosis, or you lost someone important to you, or your partner left you, or your car got totaled. You’re embarrassed for being in this situation, whether it was your fault or not, and you don’t know where to turn.

That’s how this steward felt! First, he recognizes that while he was in a privileged position with a good job and steady income, his money was ultimately unable to assure him the security he needed. He’s been a bit of a scoundrel, so he likely doesn’t have too many people ready to extend a hand. Now his job has fallen through, and he is left with nothing – no money, and no people. Without money (and its broken promise of security) to lean on to get himself out of this mess, he turns instead toward relationships. If he could bring himself into people’s good graces by treating them kindly and generously, then surely they would return the kindness and charity, and welcome him into their homes when he is dismissed from his job.

He would be taken care of; he would not be homeless. And so, one by one, he calls in the debtors, those who owed his boss, and slashed their debts – 50% off here, 20% off there. Wow! I’m imagining Family First Credit Union calling me to say, “By the way, we just took $50,000 off your mortgage. Have a nice day!” I’d be stunned, and thrilled! And you better believe, if that person then came to my door in need of help, I would be glad to offer it.

But even this dramatic burst of generosity by the steward rubs us the wrong way, doesn’t it? Because in his forgiving the debts of these debtors, isn’t he continuing to steal from his boss? Those were goods owed to someone else, so who is he to forgive them on his boss’s behalf? So surely when the rich man finds out, he will be in a rage, and the dishonest steward will be in even bigger trouble.

But to everyone’s shock, the opposite happens. No yelling, no punishment – instead the rich man commends the dishonest steward for acting so wisely with the money! It goes against every rational bone in our bodies. This is not just, this is not fair, this is not the way to teach a lesson to the scoundrels of society.

         It is certainly messy. Why does Jesus tell us this messy parable? If he wanted to teach us to forgive, could he not have said, “There was a guy who had a lot of people who owed him money. But he didn’t make them pay – he just said, ‘Hey you guys are off the hook,’ and everyone lived happily ever after.” It certainly would have been simpler and more straightforward… and a whole lot easier to preach! But it wouldn’t have been very honest or helpful, because our lives aren’t that simple or straightforward. They are complicated and messy and confusing. Just think of your relationships with even the people you love dearly, but how those relationships get so tangled up and broken that you can’t even remember anymore what the original problem was. Or those times when you have been between a rock and a hard place, knowing that whatever you decide, someone you care about gets hurt. Or those times when compromising your integrity would be the easiest way out of a situation – and that seems a small price to pay to get you out of this mess! That’s our lives: full of messiness and complications and ethical dilemmas.

         So, it’s a good thing Jesus tells us this parable, with all its confusion, because we can certainly relate. In the midst of all the messiness of life, God calls us to do just what the manager did: act wisely and generously with our resources, serve those in need, reach out to build relationships with people, and offer and receive forgiveness.

         Does it take our desperation to be able to do this? Must we be desperate before we will reach out to others for help, before we will try to build new relationships, before we will seek or offer forgiveness? Well, desperation certainly gives us a kick in the pants! People are not keen to change, after all, unless we perceive a need for change. But we can also do it before we get desperate: by looking first into our hearts at the ways we lean on the false promises of our wealth, the ways our greed wins over our compassion, the ways we seek our safety in our money over our God… and then by looking out at the world around us and seeing where there is pain, where we can use our resources, whatever God has given us, to ease that pain, and build relationships with God’s broken yet still beautiful people.

         Because that, you see, is the way our God operates: God came to walk among us so that God could build relationships with us, treating the needy with grace and love. Jesus made wild, offensive gestures and claims of forgiveness, forgiving people who do not deserve to be forgiven – like prostitutes and tax collectors, and scribes and Pharisees, and dishonest managers, and drug addicts turned pastors, and even you and me. 

Divine grace is a strange, startling, and even frustrating thing sometimes. It doesn’t behave the way we think it should. That dishonest manager should definitely not have been forgiven, and certainly not commended! But I’m sure glad he was, because it means there is also a chance for me to be forgiven, and you, for all the ways we have been irresponsible or unfaithful with the resources God has given us, for the ways we have looked out for ourselves over the poor, for the ways we have put our trust in money, rather than in God. What a gift that God’s grace is offered to the desperate, the confused, and the liars and the cheaters; to the unrighteous, the righteous, the honest and dishonest, the saints and the sinners, even to me, and even to you. Thanks be to God for such undiscerning grace!

Let us pray. Gracious and merciful God: we are, every one of us, unworthy of receiving your grace and forgiveness. We make wrong turns all the time, we lie and cheat, and we wait until we have no other option before we turn to you. We give you thanks for your relentless grace, and pray that we will know how to use your gifts wisely. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.