Amos 6:1a, 4-7 • Psalm 146 • 1 Timothy 6:6-19 • Luke 16:19-31
[Jesus said:] "There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, 'Father Abraham, 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.' He said, 'Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father's house--for I have five brothers--that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.' Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.' He said, 'No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.' He said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'"
With the Cubs and White Sox seasons nearly over, this year’s interest in Chicago baseball seems to be fading away quickly. But I can’t help see a scene from a story about baseball as I hear Jesus’ parable about a rich man and poor man named Lazarus and the divide that separates them. It’s a scene near the end of the film Field of Dreams, where Ray Kinsella, who builds a baseball field on his farm in Iowa, does not get invited out to the corn beyond the field where the old ballplayers who have come back to life have been emerging from and returning back to at the end of each day. Ray hears one of the ballplayers ask. “Hey, do you want to come out with us?” “Me?” Ray says. “No, not you, him,” the ballplayer says as he points to someone else. Ray’s furious. “What do you mean him? That’s my corn out there! You guys are guests in my corn! No, I want to see it. I’ve done what I’ve been told! I built this field. I deserve it! I haven’t once asked what’s in it for me. That’s all I’m asking is…what’s in it for me?” The ballplayer responds, “Is that why you built this field Ray, for you?”
Ray’s selfish question is a question we all ask: “What’s in it for me?” It’s a question I can hear the rich man in today’s parable saying to himself as he looks out at poor Lazarus from inside the walls of his home. “What’s in it for me to go out there and help him? He should be gone—he’s such an eyesore right at front gate of my property. I’m not going to get anything by helping him.” Both his eyes and his heart are blind to the opportunity for compassion that lies in front of him with Lazarus, just as Ray’s eyes and heart cannot see the gift that building his baseball field has given to so many.
Ray does not go out into the corn that seems something like “heaven”, so where does that leave him? With his ballfield, Ray builds a bridge that brings to life the man with whom Ray most needs to reconcile with in his life—and I won’t give away who that is for those who haven’t seen it. This man asks Ray at the end of the film about his field: “It’s so beautiful here. Can I ask you a question. Is this heaven?” Ray says, “No. It’s Iowa.” The man doesn’t believe Ray: “I could have sworn it was heaven.” But then Ray looks around and sees his field, his family, his home…seeing all that he needs and more…and he says, “Well, maybe this is heaven.” Ray sees his field is not about “what’s in it for him”, but about the people the field has allowed him to build relationship with, and what he’s been able to share because of it—treasured gifts that otherwise would have never made his life full of…community.
Jesus’ story also shows a scene from heaven—but this isn’t a scene of reconciliation and community. It’s a scene of the exact opposite: of separation and isolation. When Lazarus dies, he as the poor one, the unexpected one, gets brought to heaven; but when the rich man dies he is kept far, far away from Lazarus. The rich man sees Lazarus way off in the distance, but Lazarus is in comfort, while the rich man is in agony. The rich man still cannot see that his wealth is what has isolated him so much that a great divide now separates the two of them that is too late to be crossed.
How did this rich man become so isolated? What is Jesus trying to tell us by showing this man’s predicament? It could be easy to say that Jesus is condemning the wealthy here, but it was not being rich that caused such a chasm to surround this man. Jesus exposes the dangers that wealth—and even the yearning for greater wealth—can have on our lives. The more we have, the more challenging it becomes to see the needs of those sitting right at our doorstep. The rich man’s sin was not that he was dressed in purple and fine linen, and ate sumptuously every day. (Lk 16:19) It was that he allowed these things to take ownership of him, and insulate him from seeing his own life as linked with the well-being of even those who didn’t seem have a direct impact on his own life. The gulf in front of him separating himself from his neighbors did not just begin in his afterlife; this chasm had been building during his Earthly life.
So how do we not end up with the rich man’s fate? Or does our life somehow unavoidably take the tragic bend that this man’s life took? It appears in Jesus’ story that it is too late for him to be turned around. Is it too late for us? No, it is not, because Jesus will not let such a gulf come between him and us. No matter how isolated, or lonely, or walled off from the world we may become, Jesus finds a way to tear down that which keeps our hearts from joining with his own heart. And when we are joined to the heart of Christ, we are joined to a heart that cares for the world—a world where God is on a mission to bring down the mighty and lift up the lowly. No wall, no matter what shape it may take, is too big for Jesus to break down in order to reach us: not money, not prestige, not pride. When Jesus closes the chasm between him and us, he builds a bridge that doesn’t just lead his saving love to us, but also leads us to connect in relationship with others—with what is the most real, valuable and treasured thing in life. It’s what Paul calls “the life that really is life.” (1 Tim 6:19) It’s a life where Jesus’ bridge connects us with those waiting at our gate: who aren’t attractive, who seem to perhaps lower our reputation, who may disgust us—but whom Jesus is lowering the drawbridge for our hearts to cross and share in his communion among living sinners and living saints.
It’s not just riches that can isolate us; the life of faith itself can so easily become an individual project that turns in on ourselves. People often talk of going “church shopping”, as if faith were a product to consume rather than something discovered in community. Thomas Merton, a twentieth century Christian mystic, shares this truth about what happens when Christ builds a bridge to free us from our isolation: “The ultimate perfection of the [life of faith] is not a heaven of separate individuals, each one viewing [their] own private intuition of God; it is a sea of Love which flows through the One Body [of Christ]…and [the faith of that Body] would be incomplete if it were not shared, or if it were shared with fewer souls, or with spirits capable of less vision and less joy.” (New Seeds of Contemplation, 65)
When Jesus brings us out of our isolation, we discover that the faith Jesus works in us does not happen individually, but becomes formed and shared and set on fire in community. In Christ, none of us is an island. So who is Christ joining us into relationship with? What chasms exist in our lives that Jesus is lowering down a drawbridge over, waiting for us to walk across and begin building relationship with the Lazaruses and rich men among us? It’s not too late for us.
Today we cross over the chasm between us and the refugees of the world with the blessing of health kits and layettes that will be sent around the world through Lutheran World Relief’s Project Comfort Program. Today the mother and her newborn who receive these items, and the family in exile who receives these basic hygiene kits are brought into a fuller communion of the love of Christ with us.
We might look around in the presence of this community this morning, and we could ask, “What’s in it for me here?” Or, we could ask, “Is this heaven?” and discover Jesus places us today in communion with himself through these neighbors. “Is this heaven?” Well, maybe it’s just what happens when Jesus builds bridges between rich and poor, between old and young, between each of us gathered here. “Is this heaven?” No, it’s just church, or anyplace where the bridges Jesus builds between us are walked across , and the “life that really is life” begins. Amen.
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