The Nineteenth Sunday After Pentecost

THE NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST, YEAR C - PROPER 21 LUKE 16:19-31 SEPTEMBER 25, 2016 ST. AUGUSTINE’S EPISCOPAL CHURCH MORROW, GEORGIA THE REVEREND BARRY GRIFFIN

“ROLE REVERSALS”

Yesterday I watched on TV the opening ceremony for The National Museum of African American History and Culture. It’s our newest Smithsonian museum in Washington, D.C. The ceremony was impressive. I hope to visit the museum some day. I was struck by the dignitaries seated on stage. They included President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama along with President George W. Bush and First Lady Laura Bush. The four of them made a good picture. They seemed to genuinely like each other. They reminded me of something that’s easy to forget. While the news media constantly reminds us of our political differences, there is much more that unites us. I believe what we share in common is much greater than our differences. Several speakers made reference to President Bush’s political leadership in launching the museum. I didn’t know about that, and I was pleased to learn it. The speakers included both dignitaries and celebrities. What they had to say was appreciated. The musical performances were inspiring. But what moved me most came at the end. A bell was rung. It was a bell from an historic African American church. The ringer of the bell was a ninety nine year old African American lady accompanied by generations of her descendants. This lady’s father was born into slavery. He survived slavery, and despite the many challenges he encountered throughout his life he thrived. Yesterday, his daughter and his descendants rang the bell of freedom in Washington, D.C. Jesus said the last would be first. Yesterday the former slave and his family were honored by our nation. Talk about role reversal. Today’s gospel is about role reversal. Jesus tells a story about an un-named rich man and a poor man named Lazarus. The rich man and the poor man live separate lives in this world and separate lives in the next. However, in the next world the tables are turned dramatically. In this world, the rich man dressed and ate very well. He was wealthy enough to keep others at a distance. We know this because there was a gate leading to his house. He had the means to keep others out. The poor man lay at that gate. He was covered with sores. He was hungry: hungry enough to fantasize about the crumbs that fell from the rich man’s table. However, he had no access to that table. The gate separated the poor from the rich. The neighborhood dogs were aware of the poor man. They came and licked his sores. But the rich man had no pity. Perhaps he never even noticed. Both men died. Angels came for the poor man. They took him to be with his ancestor Abraham. The rich man was buried (did the poor man get a funeral?). The rich man found himself tormented in Hades. He looked up and saw Abraham and Lazarus far away. “Father Abraham,” he called out, “have mercy on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.” “ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’” This morning’s gospel is about separation and the consequences of separation: both in this world and the next. In this world the rich man and the poor man lived separate lives. A gate stood between them, and the poor man suffered. In the next world the poor man and the rich man remained separate. A great chasm lay between them. This time the rich man suffered. No one could cross over the great chasm. There was no possibility for the rich man’s relief in eternity. His opportunity for redemption lay in “this” world, not the next. His opportunity for redemption lay outside his gate in the person of Lazarus. In this world he had the chance to attend to the poor man. He had access to Lazarus. In the next world neither man had access to the other. This parable leads some people to examine questions about eternity. What does it mean to be with Father Abraham? What is Hades, and what does it mean to be tormented there? These are important questions. But if we dwell on these questions we miss the point of the parable. This parable is about separation and the consequences of separation. When we choose to separate ourselves from those in need, when we stay inside the gate and remain oblivious or contemptuous of those who are hurting, there are consequences. They suffer, and ultimately we suffer, too. The great English novelist Charles Dickens wrote sympathetically about the conditions of the poor in nineteenth century England. He was a man of social conscience. He was also a man of faith. I’m reminded of this every December when I watch the movie version of his classic novel A Christmas Carol. At the beginning of the story Ebeneezer Scrooge is visited by the ghost of his deceased business partner, Jacob Marley. Scrooge and Marley had been successful yet merciless business partners. They only cared for money. They had no concern for the desperate needs of the poor. In this morning’s parable no one was sent to warn the rich man’s brothers of future torment. It’s different in Dickens’ Christmas Carol. The ghost of Jacob Marley comes to warn Ebeneezer Scrooge of the consequences of disregarding others. At one point Scrooge notices the heavy chains the ghost of Marley drags around and carries on his body. When questioned Marley replies, “I bear the chains I forged in life.” I bear the chains I forged in life. Our selfishness hurts other for a season. But ultimately selfishness hurts us much longer. We continue to carry each chain of selfishness we forge. Those chains can become an awfully heavy burden. We can carry them an awfully long time: perhaps for eternity. There is an option, of course. We can change. In the church we call change conversion. As people of faith, we are called to a lifetime of conversion. Ebeneezer Scrooge was converted. After his encounter with the ghost of Jacob Marley, with the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future, he embraced generosity. He shared his wealth with the poor, including the family of his employee, Bob Cratchett. Dickens tells us that Ebeneezer Scrooge became known for the way in which he kept Christmas. He became famous for the way he gave to others. As he learned to share he discovered happiness. He was never the same. The chains he forged and carried in life were removed from his shoulders forever. This morning’s gospel is about separation and the consequences of separation: both in this world and the next. When we separate ourselves from those in need; when we ignore them or feel contempt toward them, we end up suffering, too. Have you forged some heavy chains during your lifetime? Are you carrying them today? Do you want relief? Is it time to make a change? There is still time to make a change. Change begins with noticing those at the gate: those like Lazarus who are barely holding on. Change begins by listening to one person in need. Change begins by opening the gate. This morning’s gospel is about separation and the consequences of separation. The chasm is great. May God grant us grace to recognize our need to overcome separation from those who are hurting. May God grant us grace to act accordingly.

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