What parable would make a man with three doctoral degrees (one in
medicine, one in theology, one in philosophy) leave civilization with
all of its culture and amenities and depart for the jungles of darkest
Africa? What parable could induce a man, who was recognized as one of
the best concert organists in all of Europe, go to a place where there
were no organs to play? What parable would so intensely motivate a man
that he would give up a teaching position in Vienna, Austria to go and
deal with people who were so deprived that they were still living in the
superstitions of the dark ages? The man whom I referencing is the great
missionary, Dr. Albert Schweitzer. And the single parable that so
radically altered his life, according to him, was our New Testament text
for this morning. (Brett Blair. www.esermons.com) He concluded that
Africa was a beggar lying at Europe’s doorstep, so he moved to Africa
where he founded the Lambaréné Hospital. (George Buttrick, ed. The
Interpreter’s Bible. New York: Abingdon Press. 1952. p. 289)
I’m not Albert Schweitzer. I find this parable bothersome, difficult,
and hard to hear. These words of Jesus indict our society as being
callous and disinterested, and the consequence which the rich man
received is not enviable. Depending upon a person’s salary and station
in life, this parable speaks poignantly to us. I read recently where the
richest 1 percent in America have nearly as much wealth as the entire
bottom 95 percent. The rich man in the parable would have been counted
in that top 1 percent. But to Lazarus, almost all of us would be
considered rich. Comparably speaking, we are wealthy.
Listening to Jesus and seeking to apply what he says sometimes hurts;
this is one of those times. When hearing parables by Jesus, or when
hearing any story, we often try to find ourselves in the story.
With whom do we relate the most? In a Wednesday night Bible Study a
couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that when we read scripture we are
often looking for our name, trying to find the place where the
biblical story intersects with our personal story.
Volumes have been written about this parable. The story did not even
originate with Jesus; it existed in several cultures and in many
versions. The story mentioned by Jesus was unapologetically a Jewish
modification of the story, as indicated by the appearance of Father
Abraham. (Fred Craddock, et.al. Preaching Through the Christian Year.
Harrisonburg, PA: Trinity Press International. 1994 p. 422)
In the parable, the rich man was considered a member of the "Life Is
Good" club. Life was so good that he didn’t even consider change.
Why change? There was no pressing need. By any and every standard, he
was opulently wealthy.
By stark contrast, the beggar lay lifeless at the gate. He needed
change. Survival was his biggest need. Those whose stations in life as
beggars in need of food and weakened by malnutrition populate our world
and die daily because of lack of response. Like Lazarus to the rich man,
most of the world’s hungry are faceless, nameless. We see them but don’t
always notice them. No doubt the rich man saw the blighted figure, yet
no change was considered.
But death, after all, is the great equalizer. Considerations of
social standing, race, or wealth are inconsequential in death. Even
though the rich man was buried and perhaps had an extravagant funeral,
all that Jesus mentioned was that he died and was buried. His funeral
did nothing to change the reality and finality of his death.
Jesus then noted a reversal of fortune. Again, note the contrast.
Abraham, the father of many nations, the covenant keeper, now
received the one who was rejected on earth. While the rich
man had everything on earth, at death, he had nothing. While he never
considered change as an option, that indifference to what was
happening around him, did not profit him in the end. His acceptance of
the way he thought it was supposed to be became more important
than any effort to notice others. His indifference to Lazarus’ plight,
hunger, and needs in general had its own consequence.
Yet even when the tables were turned, the rich man did not change.
Seeking to read the text somewhat objectively, I am amazed at the
audacity of this wealthy man! Why would Lazarus have pity on him,
when Lazarus faced hell on earth without notice? Don’t you just hate it
when someone who’s self-inflated importance is flaunted by thinking that
they can say anything to anyone? This indifference and
rudeness overlook the needs and feelings of others, and it too has its
own set of consequences.
The great patriarch of the faith, the one who was promised that his
descendants would be as plentiful as the stars in the sky and the sand
on the seashore, offered no hope to the tormented rich man. There was a
great gulf fixed; a great chasm separated the rich man and Lazarus. That
had certainly been the case when they were living. There seemed to be a
road less traveled (to quote Scott Peck) between the rich man and
Lazarus. During his lifetime, the rich man chose not to go down
this road to help the poorest of his society, yet now, all the rich man
could consider was how to improve his own plight, how could he get any
relief, who could help him.
That attitude of entitlement remains also alive and well today. Some
think because of their lineage, their power, their past, or their wealth
that they can say anything or do anything. Some think they
are above the law or outside the realm of scrutiny, but no one is
entitled to that benefit. Not professional athletes, politicians, or
even everyday people like you and me. Words hurt. Actions have
consequences. We all know that laws apply to everyone, but common
courtesy should also apply to everyone too.
The rich man, realizing that there was no hope for himself, began to
think about others . . . albeit, the others were his own brothers. He
knew that his family shared the same set of values. He realized that his
opulent, indifferent lifestyle produced an awful consequence. He
suggested if a ghost was sent back to earth, if something supernatural
happened, then his brothers would change.
Again, the wealthy man acted with audacity. Because he had been a
person of supposed power and influence, he thought that his
influence continued after his death. Wrong answer. While he had no
concern for Lazarus when they were living, he now wanted Lazarus to
leave the comfort of heaven and return to earth to tell his brothers to
change. He expected them to believe a divine courier.
Father Abraham reminded the wealthy man of the warnings as found in
the scriptures of their day, namely Moses and the prophets. Perhaps,
like him, his brothers thought these writings were unimportant. Maybe
his brothers considered the sound religious teaching of scripture to be
irrelevant. Possibly, people who shared the values of the wealthy man
considered the Bible of the day to be outdated. It didn’t meet their
needs. They were too busy enjoying their wealth to listen, read or heed
the scripture. Sound familiar? Could this be yet another indictment on
lagging Sunday School attendance, that too many people see the Bible as
unimportant, irrelevant, or outdated?
But the audaciousness continued by contradicting the patriarch
Abraham. "No father Abraham. If someone goes to them from the dead, they
will change. Just offer them the impossible and get their
attention. Everyday signs are not enough." What would it take to change
his brothers? It would take a miracle.
For some people to change, it would take a miracle. What would
it take to change some individuals? A family member becomes involved in
a relationship with a person which everyone knows will lead to disaster.
Can’t she see the failure and heartache on the horizon? Hoping against
hope for that slim chance that the story will have a happy ending, no
matter all the signs of the present indicating otherwise, the woman
stays in the unhealthy relationship. Perhaps it would take a miracle
for her to change.
An older man begins having one health problem after another. He
continues to smoke, knowing the hazards; to eat fried foods, despite his
stomach problems; to consume junk food and/or bowls of ice-cream as
snacks midway between supper and bedtime. The doctor has warned him
about high cholesterol, family members’ medical histories, and the need
for exercise, yet the man enjoys his smokes, southern-style food, and
snacks. Perhaps it would take a miracle for him to change.
A student hears over and over the importance of a good education. She
knows people who didn’t apply themselves for a while and their grades
reflected it, thus preventing their entrance into the college of their
choice. She enjoys Instant Messaging, texting, and cell phone
communication, sometimes to the detriment of completing her assignments
on time. She chooses to spend time with friends instead of sinking
deeper into the books. Each time, she thinks, "just one bad grade won’t
hurt," yet the times become repetitive. Perhaps it would take a
miracle for her to change.
All of these are real-life scenarios, times when doing the
right thing is already known, when a miracle is not needed to bring
change. Unfortunately, the wake-up calls are received too late for many
of these situations. Knowing how to do the right thing or when
to do the right thing, and actually following through with
doing the right thing are not the same thing.
As we see the ones we love make obviously bad decisions, we want to
grab them and shake them into reality. Perhaps we even say, "Don’t throw
your life away. You mean something to me. Get help for your problem.
Listen to the doctors. Be a good student. Make good decisions." But we
can’t live someone else’s lives, can we. We can only live our
own, and all of us have areas that need changing. Perhaps there
are family members or friends bending our ears about making a needed
change. Maybe the messengers around us are noticing something as plain
on the nose on our faces, yet we refuse to look into the mirrors. What
would it take to change us? Hopefully something not as radical as
having a ghost come appear to us.
And now to us as a congregation, what would it take to change us?
Changes to the church abound. Attempts to provide more structure
include a new Personnel Manual, a new Child Safety Policy, new Ushering
Guidelines, and new Wedding policies. Yet policies do not change
people; individuals change themselves. I can’t change anyone but
me. The Personnel Committee cannot change any of the church staff. Our
Children’s Committee cannot change anyone who works with our children.
Our Chief Usher and Deacon Chair cannot change any of the ushers or
greeters, and our Wedding Guild cannot change anyone involved in
weddings here. We can set policy and tweak procedures, but the changes
have to come with the individuals. What will it take to change us?
This weekend we have heard from Bo Prosser about some great ways to
improve our Sunday School. His constant quote merits repeating, "People
go, where they know, they are prepared for and they are cared for." His
focus on the building blocks for Sunday School growth included vision,
balance, leadership, relevant teaching, outreach and inreach,
receptivity and inclusion. These principles are foundational for Sunday
School growth, but we have to live-out these principles for our
Sunday School to grow. Hearing these great tips but not
changing what we presently do will not result in Sunday School
growth. What will it take to change us?
Most of us have been in church all our lives. We have heard over and
over to love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, and then
to love our neighbor as ourselves. We also know that love is more than a
feeling; it is an action. Showing that love to other people,
especially to those like Lazarus, will continue to require change
in all of us. What would it take to change us?
The rich man in the parable indicated that his brothers would change
if they witnessed a person who had come back from the dead. And that is
the challenge for us today: you and I know that Jesus Christ has
come back from the dead and continues to show us a better way. A miracle
has already happened, and again the question remains, "What would it
take to change us?" Let’s change ... for Christ’s sake.