Reading the Rich man and Lazarus when you're on a fixed income

I’ll never forget the first time I sat down with someone living on the streets. I was in my undergrad down in North Carolina. I’d just come out of a class and headed to lunch across the street from one of my buildings. I came out and there was a man asking me for change. I didn’t have any because to be frank, I didn’t have much more money than he did for the things I needed to pay for. So instead, I handed him half my plate of food. This opened a door with him. At first we talked about how he ended up on the street. But we moved on from that to talk about life, hopes, dreams, frustrations, family, childhood, and the future. I’d never seen poverty like this in Canada - likely because I didn’t live in Toronto - I was saddened and wanted to do something about it. But what? For he wasn’t the only person on the streets, and I only had so much food or anything else. What was I to do?

In our Gospel this morning we hear the story of a rich man, with the poor man named Lazarus begging the rich man for scraps from his table. They both die and the rich man, although comfortable in this life, is not saved by his wealth. In fact he bears the consequences of his lavish lifestyle, in ignoring poor Lazarus sitting at his doorstep: at his judgment, he’s sent to Hades to face eternal torment. And when he asks that Lazarus might serve him here by dipping his finger in the lake to come and cool his burning tongue, Abraham replies: '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.’

Notice here that the Wealthy man, at his death, still thinks he ought to be served, by Lazarus whom he apparently saw as little more than a means to fulfill his own desire, in this case, relief. Abraham says to him: by the way, this is a permanent reality for you. In other words, too bad you prioritized temporary wealth and comfort over my commandment to care for others. The cost you pay for that temporary reward is eternal suffering. There’s really no gentle way of putting this.

Abraham does not imply that wealth itself is a bad thing to have. Rather, as Jesus will say to those who claim to be his people but do not feed or clothe the poor or care for the sick and outcast, whom he says he doesn’t recognize, or to Annanias and Sapphira who withhold what they receive from their sale of property that was supposed to go into the common pot for the disciples, who are killed by God, it is what we do with what we have and how we treat others, that ultimately matters to God. In fact, God doesn’t care what we have at all because he needs nothing of what we have.

As we hear in Timothy: “As for those who in the present age are rich, command them not to be haughty or to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches but rather on God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. They are to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share, thus storing up for themselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of the life that really is life.” 

In light of having been claimed by God - of receiving perfect love, eternal life in Jesus Christ - we are reminded of what a loving response looks like: to return God’s love to him is to love those whom we encounter in this life. To give of what we have for their sakes, so that they might receive God and be able to give of what they have. This parable is a warning against conflating what we acquire in this world with God’s favour, and keeping what we have for ourselves. What we are given, what we acquire, is to be shared and the consequences of our choices in doing this are eternal.

Many of us here are not the rich man with respect to our finances or our possessions. I certainly am not. I still have major debt from school and starting work later in life. Yet too often I have fallen into the rich man’s way of thinking. At some point, I stopped sharing my lunch with the man on the street. I got busy with other things and frankly, I started running out of money to eat more than a pb and banana sandwich from home. More than that though, I just ran out of things to say. I ran into the man one day on my way to a class and he asked what happened to me. I sheepishly told him a lie: my class schedule just didn’t permit me to meet with him anymore. I told him I was sorry and that I’d give him some money to buy some food.

He said to me: my friend, I don’t need your money or the food, that’s pretty easy to come by to be honest; I just really liked talking to you; it made me feel like someone valued me, saw me as more than a beggar. My turning away from him shot straight to my soul and burned in my core like a small taste of the rich man’s Hades.

My friends, God has granted us as a parish, and you as individuals many things, many gifts, many talents - some financial, yes, but many others as well, time, energy, insight, experiences, expertise, struggles from which you’ve developed wisdom, the capacity to hold your tongue and your judgment and not cut others down, enough, so that you can let go of clinging to the way things were or have always been done. The ultimate lesson here is this, “In the presence of God, who gives life to all things … I charge you … to do good, to be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share, thus storing up for [your]selves the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that [you all] may take hold of the life that really is life.”