Inside, Outside
Sermon
Topsy-Turvy: Living In The Biblical World
Gospel Sermons For Sundays After Pentecost (Middle Third) Cycle C
Rich man, poor man -- stories of contrast. It's a familiar theme in literature. Remember several years back when Public Television, on Masterpiece Theater, ran the series called "Upstairs, Downstairs"? It was kind of a British soap opera portraying the lives of the occupants of an English manorhouse: the masters and the servants.
Today we have Jesus' version of "rich man, poor man," the story of the rich man and Lazarus. It, too, is a story of contrasts. Not so much upstairs, downstairs, but rather inside, outside.
• Inside was the rich man; outside was poor Lazarus.
• Inside the rich man dressed in fine linen, dyed a royal purple; outside Lazarus was covered with sores.
• Inside the rich man feasted sumptuously every day, not just on special occasions; outside Lazarus would have loved to have been offered just the scraps from the rich man's table.
• Inside the rich man is at the very top of the social scale; outside is Lazarus, who is at the very bottom.
• Inside the rich man has tons of possessions, but no name; outside lies Lazarus, who has no possessions except for a name.
Inside/outside. And what marks the boundaries between inside and outside? The gate. Now a gate can function in two different ways: it can let in or it can keep out. We've already heard of Lazarus' desire to go through the gate to eat the scraps from the rich man's table. The question is, will the rich man use the gate to come to Lazarus' aid?
He doesn't. The gate keeps the rich man inside; the gate keeps Lazarus outside. Then death comes, and the Great Reversal begins, including the Greatest Reversal of all: the gate! It disappears! In its place is a chasm. With the gate you could either keep out or let in. With the chasm you can only keep out.
There is even a great reversal in how the story is told. Before death, the rich man is described first, Lazarus second. After death, Lazarus is described first, the rich man second.
Other than the fact that both of them die equally dead, the story of contrasts continues even after death, yet this time the contrasts are reversed:
• The inside/outside theme continues, but this time "the good things/evil things" connotation is reversed: Lazarus is carried outside of this world to the bosom of Abraham; the rich man is buried inside the ground.
• There is a full description of Lazarus being carried by angels to the bosom of Abraham; compare that to the stark description of the rich man's death: "he also died and was buried." Not only that, but notice how the starkness of the rich man's death contrasts with his former opulent lifestyle.
• Lazarus is in the bosom of Abraham; the rich man is in the flames of hell.
• Lazarus is feasting at Abraham's table; the rich man is thirsting for a tiny drop of water.
Why the Great Reversal in the Kingdom of God? It can't be just because the rich man was wealthy. We know that for a fact because Abraham was very wealthy. Nor can it be an issue of explicit morality, because nowhere does the story imply that the rich man was immoral; likewise nowhere does the story indicate that Lazarus was full of goodness.
Places in the Kingdom of God are determined not by our differences, but by solidarity, by our willingness to be in community with those who are different from us. The gate is the key to the story. God has provided you and me with gates that are meant to be walked through, not gates to shut out. The gate is there because of God's grace, because of God's undeserved love.
How do we know that? From Lazarus' name, which is the other key to the story. Lazarus is the Greek equivalent of the Hebrew Eliezer which means, the one whom God helps. It is in the Great Reversal of the Kingdom of God that the promise of Lazarus' name is fulfilled: God helps.
During his life on earth the rich man refused to come through the gate to bring help to Lazarus. Later in the story we discover that all along the rich man has even known Lazarus' name, but he never invites Lazarus inside and he never goes outside to him. Even in Hades, the rich man is thinking only of himself; at that point he would like to be in community with Lazarus, but only in the sense that he wants Lazarus to come to him, as his "go-fetch" servant, bringing a drop of water for his parched tongue.
Once again, here is the point of the story: in spite of our differences -- or maybe we should even say, because of our differences -- we are called to be in solidarity, in community, with others, with those who are different from us, and God helps us to do just that, by providing gates.
What does that kind of solidarity look like? Well, let me tell you about Henri Nouwen. Father Nouwen was a Roman Catholic priest who taught at several Protestant seminaries. He spent a couple of years in Latin America with the liberation theologians, and he eventually ended up at L'Arche, a community for the mentally and physically disabled, first in France, later in Toronto. And he remained with L'Arche until his untimely death in 1998.
Here was a group of people who were so different from Henri Nouwen! The philosophy of L'Arche was not to help the mentally handicapped get "normal," but rather to help them to share their spiritual gifts with the world. That's why the "poor of spirit" are given to us, Father Nouwen argued; they are for our conversion! In their poverty, the mentally handicapped reveal God to us and thereby keep us close to the gospel.
Father Nouwen wrote, "I am more and more convinced, in the deepest sense, that God's preferential option for the poor -- a liberation theology concept -- is true." But he never expected to see it at L'Arche. He now came to see how much he was learning and receiving from these "poor in spirit." They were teaching him that being is more important than doing, that the heart is more important than the mind, and that doing things together is more important that doing things alone. He concludes, "Our spirituality should come from living deeply with the poor."
Several years ago there was an article in The Wall Street Journal about the residents of Pelham Manor, New York, an exclusive, wealthy suburb, an island surrounded by a sea of poverty. For example, the mean streets of the Bronx lie at its southern end. Among other stories, the article tells us about Lucy Luc, someone who learned to walk through the gate.
Lucy Luc lives in one of those big mansions in Pelham Heights. But once, as a part of her congregation's social ministry efforts, she made a midnight foray into New York City to distribute food and clothing to the homeless. And it gave her a new perspective on life.
There were four of them all together who made the trip: three women and an elderly man. It was a bitterly cold night. They had packed the van with hot food, soup, cocoa, sandwiches, sleeping bags, and blankets.
When they made their first stop in Central Park just after midnight, fifty homeless people surrounded their van. Fear was Lucy's first emotion: "All I could think is what my friends had said -- that I was crazy to do this; that they're all drunks, or crazy, or drug addicts."
She didn't dare get out of the van but passed clothes through the window. The recipients measured the clothes against themselves; if an item was too big or too small they passed it on to someone else. Everyone was gracious and appreciative. Lucy thought, "My God, they're just people -- it's like being at Macy's."
As the van made its way through New York City, Lucy got bolder and bolder. At the next stop she was the hostess for the hot chocolate cart. At the very end of their rounds Lucy was even venturing under overpasses where she would hand out clothing to the men living there.
When she returned to her home in Pelham Manor, she spent the remainder of the day crying and laughing. It had been an emotional experience. As she told others of her experience at a dinner party that night, some of the people were genuinely moved. Others thought she was crazy: "You're feeding the people who are burglarizing our homes ... now they really won't get jobs." Some of her friends look at her differently now, she says: "I guess I've lost my sense of boundaries. Those homeless, hungry, destitute people that we spend so much energy trying not to think about You know, they're just people like us."1
Lucy Luc walked through the gate.
Now that story that Jesus told is not only about the wealth/poverty gate. There can be all sorts of other gates which shut us out of community with others. Maybe in your lives it's the husband/wife gate. God has given some of us the gift of marriage, a beautiful gift which can bring us into community with another.
But sometimes the marriage gate gets shut, locked tight. Maybe because of stupid things done or stupid things said. Maybe because of childhood wounds. Listen to the good news: marriage is still a gate; it is not a chasm; it can still be opened up and walked through. And hear this good news: there is grace; God helps.
A couple of years ago Nelson Mandela, the retired President of South Africa, was in our country to receive the Congressional Gold Medal. Mandela had been in prison for 27 long years in South Africa because of his struggle against apartheid; the gate had been shut and locked against him. Then finally, in 1990, the prison gate was opened for him and later he was elected President. What did he do? Did he shut and lock the gate against his former captors? No, he forgave them.
In spite of our differences, because of our differences -- we are called to be in solidarity, in community, with others, with those who are different from us, and God helps us to do just that, by providing gates.
____________
1. Ron Suskind, "Islands in a Storm," The Wall Street Journal, May 15, 1992.
Today we have Jesus' version of "rich man, poor man," the story of the rich man and Lazarus. It, too, is a story of contrasts. Not so much upstairs, downstairs, but rather inside, outside.
• Inside was the rich man; outside was poor Lazarus.
• Inside the rich man dressed in fine linen, dyed a royal purple; outside Lazarus was covered with sores.
• Inside the rich man feasted sumptuously every day, not just on special occasions; outside Lazarus would have loved to have been offered just the scraps from the rich man's table.
• Inside the rich man is at the very top of the social scale; outside is Lazarus, who is at the very bottom.
• Inside the rich man has tons of possessions, but no name; outside lies Lazarus, who has no possessions except for a name.
Inside/outside. And what marks the boundaries between inside and outside? The gate. Now a gate can function in two different ways: it can let in or it can keep out. We've already heard of Lazarus' desire to go through the gate to eat the scraps from the rich man's table. The question is, will the rich man use the gate to come to Lazarus' aid?
He doesn't. The gate keeps the rich man inside; the gate keeps Lazarus outside. Then death comes, and the Great Reversal begins, including the Greatest Reversal of all: the gate! It disappears! In its place is a chasm. With the gate you could either keep out or let in. With the chasm you can only keep out.
There is even a great reversal in how the story is told. Before death, the rich man is described first, Lazarus second. After death, Lazarus is described first, the rich man second.
Other than the fact that both of them die equally dead, the story of contrasts continues even after death, yet this time the contrasts are reversed:
• The inside/outside theme continues, but this time "the good things/evil things" connotation is reversed: Lazarus is carried outside of this world to the bosom of Abraham; the rich man is buried inside the ground.
• There is a full description of Lazarus being carried by angels to the bosom of Abraham; compare that to the stark description of the rich man's death: "he also died and was buried." Not only that, but notice how the starkness of the rich man's death contrasts with his former opulent lifestyle.
• Lazarus is in the bosom of Abraham; the rich man is in the flames of hell.
• Lazarus is feasting at Abraham's table; the rich man is thirsting for a tiny drop of water.
Why the Great Reversal in the Kingdom of God? It can't be just because the rich man was wealthy. We know that for a fact because Abraham was very wealthy. Nor can it be an issue of explicit morality, because nowhere does the story imply that the rich man was immoral; likewise nowhere does the story indicate that Lazarus was full of goodness.
Places in the Kingdom of God are determined not by our differences, but by solidarity, by our willingness to be in community with those who are different from us. The gate is the key to the story. God has provided you and me with gates that are meant to be walked through, not gates to shut out. The gate is there because of God's grace, because of God's undeserved love.
How do we know that? From Lazarus' name, which is the other key to the story. Lazarus is the Greek equivalent of the Hebrew Eliezer which means, the one whom God helps. It is in the Great Reversal of the Kingdom of God that the promise of Lazarus' name is fulfilled: God helps.
During his life on earth the rich man refused to come through the gate to bring help to Lazarus. Later in the story we discover that all along the rich man has even known Lazarus' name, but he never invites Lazarus inside and he never goes outside to him. Even in Hades, the rich man is thinking only of himself; at that point he would like to be in community with Lazarus, but only in the sense that he wants Lazarus to come to him, as his "go-fetch" servant, bringing a drop of water for his parched tongue.
Once again, here is the point of the story: in spite of our differences -- or maybe we should even say, because of our differences -- we are called to be in solidarity, in community, with others, with those who are different from us, and God helps us to do just that, by providing gates.
What does that kind of solidarity look like? Well, let me tell you about Henri Nouwen. Father Nouwen was a Roman Catholic priest who taught at several Protestant seminaries. He spent a couple of years in Latin America with the liberation theologians, and he eventually ended up at L'Arche, a community for the mentally and physically disabled, first in France, later in Toronto. And he remained with L'Arche until his untimely death in 1998.
Here was a group of people who were so different from Henri Nouwen! The philosophy of L'Arche was not to help the mentally handicapped get "normal," but rather to help them to share their spiritual gifts with the world. That's why the "poor of spirit" are given to us, Father Nouwen argued; they are for our conversion! In their poverty, the mentally handicapped reveal God to us and thereby keep us close to the gospel.
Father Nouwen wrote, "I am more and more convinced, in the deepest sense, that God's preferential option for the poor -- a liberation theology concept -- is true." But he never expected to see it at L'Arche. He now came to see how much he was learning and receiving from these "poor in spirit." They were teaching him that being is more important than doing, that the heart is more important than the mind, and that doing things together is more important that doing things alone. He concludes, "Our spirituality should come from living deeply with the poor."
Several years ago there was an article in The Wall Street Journal about the residents of Pelham Manor, New York, an exclusive, wealthy suburb, an island surrounded by a sea of poverty. For example, the mean streets of the Bronx lie at its southern end. Among other stories, the article tells us about Lucy Luc, someone who learned to walk through the gate.
Lucy Luc lives in one of those big mansions in Pelham Heights. But once, as a part of her congregation's social ministry efforts, she made a midnight foray into New York City to distribute food and clothing to the homeless. And it gave her a new perspective on life.
There were four of them all together who made the trip: three women and an elderly man. It was a bitterly cold night. They had packed the van with hot food, soup, cocoa, sandwiches, sleeping bags, and blankets.
When they made their first stop in Central Park just after midnight, fifty homeless people surrounded their van. Fear was Lucy's first emotion: "All I could think is what my friends had said -- that I was crazy to do this; that they're all drunks, or crazy, or drug addicts."
She didn't dare get out of the van but passed clothes through the window. The recipients measured the clothes against themselves; if an item was too big or too small they passed it on to someone else. Everyone was gracious and appreciative. Lucy thought, "My God, they're just people -- it's like being at Macy's."
As the van made its way through New York City, Lucy got bolder and bolder. At the next stop she was the hostess for the hot chocolate cart. At the very end of their rounds Lucy was even venturing under overpasses where she would hand out clothing to the men living there.
When she returned to her home in Pelham Manor, she spent the remainder of the day crying and laughing. It had been an emotional experience. As she told others of her experience at a dinner party that night, some of the people were genuinely moved. Others thought she was crazy: "You're feeding the people who are burglarizing our homes ... now they really won't get jobs." Some of her friends look at her differently now, she says: "I guess I've lost my sense of boundaries. Those homeless, hungry, destitute people that we spend so much energy trying not to think about You know, they're just people like us."1
Lucy Luc walked through the gate.
Now that story that Jesus told is not only about the wealth/poverty gate. There can be all sorts of other gates which shut us out of community with others. Maybe in your lives it's the husband/wife gate. God has given some of us the gift of marriage, a beautiful gift which can bring us into community with another.
But sometimes the marriage gate gets shut, locked tight. Maybe because of stupid things done or stupid things said. Maybe because of childhood wounds. Listen to the good news: marriage is still a gate; it is not a chasm; it can still be opened up and walked through. And hear this good news: there is grace; God helps.
A couple of years ago Nelson Mandela, the retired President of South Africa, was in our country to receive the Congressional Gold Medal. Mandela had been in prison for 27 long years in South Africa because of his struggle against apartheid; the gate had been shut and locked against him. Then finally, in 1990, the prison gate was opened for him and later he was elected President. What did he do? Did he shut and lock the gate against his former captors? No, he forgave them.
In spite of our differences, because of our differences -- we are called to be in solidarity, in community, with others, with those who are different from us, and God helps us to do just that, by providing gates.
____________
1. Ron Suskind, "Islands in a Storm," The Wall Street Journal, May 15, 1992.
