The Church of St.
Paul & Incarnation, Jersey City NJ
September 29, 2019
Year C, Proper 21:
The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Jeremiah 32:1-3a,
6-15
Psalm 91:1-6, 14-16
1 Timothy 6:6-19
Luke 16:19-31
No Great Chasm
Just
as we did last year, for the past few weeks we have changed the language we use
at the 10:00 service, employing more contemporary, more gender-neutral,
language than what is found in our Prayer Book.
For
some this is a wonderful and long-overdue move that you think should be made
permanent, and for others it’s something to be endured until Advent when, yes,
we’ll go back to more traditional language.
And,
probably some have barely noticed any difference.
I
think that one of the most striking changes is in the language of the
confession that we say together. Listen:
“We
have denied your goodness in each other, in ourselves, and in the world you
have created.
We
repent of the evil that enslaves us, the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf.”
Actually,
that last line, “the evil done on our behalf” recently sparked a little social
media storm among some Episcopal clergy and lay people who wondered and debated
if we really can or should ask forgiveness for actions that we have not
personally done, but have been done for us, or from which we benefit.
I
get the objection, and while it is a little complicated, I believe that we can
and probably should ask forgiveness
for evil done on our behalf, for the systems and policies that make us richer
and fuller and more comfortable, while others are left out, neglected, hungry,
and frightened.
To
say the least, this has been a challenging week – a challenging week for our
own church community and a challenging week for our country and the world.
There’s been a lot
of news lately, from massive environmental protests all around the world to a
terrifying UN report on the state of the world’s oceans to, of course, the
start of an official impeachment inquiry.
There’s
been so much going on that you may have missed a news item that deserved to get
more attention.
Every
year, the President sets the number of refugees who can be admitted into the
United States. This past week the Administration announced that for the next
twelve months the U.S. would admit 18,000 refugees. To give that number some
context, in 2016 the number was 110,000 refugees.
No
surprise, lots of people are upset about this, including the Episcopal Church,
which has condemned this decision
Keep
in mind that it takes years of careful vetting before refugees are able to
settle here. We’re not talking about people sneaking into the country. Refugees
are people who are fleeing violence and oppression who are using a legal system
that was first created after World War II.
The
Administration argues that it must reduce the number of refugees (earlier the
word was they were actually considering lowering the number to zero)
because of the increase of asylum claims at our Southern border.
Maybe
that’s true and maybe it’s not, but I’ll just say that this is a country of
about 300 million people where, except for the poorest among us, we live better
and more securely than people in most parts of the world.
There
is a wide divide – a “great chasm,” to use the language of today’s gospel
lesson, between most of us and most of them.
Although
as we struggle to pay our bills it may not feel like it, the truth is that most
of us live more like the rich man of today’s parable, while so many people around
the world are like poor Lazarus, lying hungry, pitiful, and neglected, just outside
our gates.
If
you were here last week, you may remember that we heard one of Jesus’ most
difficult to understand parables, what’s usually called the Parable of the
Dishonest Steward or Manager.
Today’s
parable – the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus – is much easier to grasp but
that doesn’t make it any less challenging.
It’s
a parable of great divides.
It’s
a parable of rich and poor living side-by-side and yet living very different
lives.
And,
it’s a parable of great reversals: in the next life poor Lazarus is rewarded
with the great honor of resting in the “bosom of Abraham” while the rich man is
in agony in the place of judgment (though, I do wonder just how bad the agony was since he's still pretty chatty!).
It’s
also a parable about just not “getting it” – after all, even from Hell the rich
man thinks he’s in a position to give orders: send Lazarus to bring me a drink
– send Lazarus to warn my brothers!
Some
people never learn.
But,
there’s one little detail in this parable that has especially caught my
attention.
Since
we’re nice people, we might be inclined to forgive the rich man for living it
up while Lazarus was starving and suffering outside his door. We might try to
rationalize his selfishness. We might try to let him off the hook by saying,
well, maybe he didn’t know that Lazarus was out there.
After
all, we all get caught up in our own stuff and sometimes we no longer see what is
right in front of us – no longer see who is right in front of us.
There’s
just one problem with that: in the afterlife we learn that the rich man knew
Lazarus’ name. He knew him. And still, he didn’t help.
And,
so, the rich man is condemned.
Today
the world and our country face many big issues.
And, we are always
called to follow our faith and our consciences and to do our part.
But,
since the bigness of these problems and our deep political divisions can be
overwhelming and depressing, we often choose to ignore the news from faraway
places and from Washington, to look away from “the evil done on our behalf.”
We may choose to
just keep our mouths shut to keep the peace (Thanksgiving dinner is just around
the corner!).
We
may choose to “stay in our lane,” as they say.
Personally,
I don’t think that’s the way to go, but I can understand it, and, honestly, I
find it tempting myself.
But,
even if we look away from the world and from Washington, the hard truth is
that, just like for the rich man in the parable, right here in our
neighborhood, right here in our “lane” there are people hungry for the crumbs
that fall from our table.
And,
so, in just a few weeks, from November 3 to November 17, Family Promise will
once again send guests to stay right here: parents and children without a home
of their own who will live in make Carr Hall and our upstairs rooms.
And,
if you open your heart, if you choose to help with this great effort, you will
learn the names of these parents and children.
And,
I am confident that, unlike the rich man in the parable, we won’t look away and
ignore the people whose names we know, but instead we will open our gates even
wider, and share with them much more than crumbs.
We’ll
make room in our spiritual home.
We’ll
make room at our table.
We’ll
make room in our heart.
There
will be no wide divide – there will be no great chasm – between us.
Amen.
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