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The Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost, 09/25/2016
Sermon on Luke 16:19-31, by David H. Brooks
One of the phrases that is used often in our household is “you never know.”
Typically, it is meant to draw out desired behavior, as in, “you might want to eat your vegetables, because you never know if there’s a yummy dessert in the fridge.”
More broadly, “you never know” is encouragement to not assume anything, to not look at a situation and believe that you have summed up what is and is not important. Anyone who works in customer service knows this fact well—given that Americans prefer to dress down, you never know if that individual approaching the hotel front desk or the boutique service counter is well-heeled or not. So, good customer service skills starts with “what can I offer” rather than “what do they bring me.”
The Scriptures echo a version of this truth, of course. Hebrews 13:2 admonishes us to “not neglect to show hospitality, for some in doing so have entertained angels unknowingly.”
You never know.
In this parable, Jesus offers his own take on “you never know.” And, since he is the Lord and knows that it is what is at work in the heart that matterrs, Jesus tells this parable as a way of highlighting how “you never know” challenges each of us, for such moments reveal what we truly love.
Of course, Luke reports that Jesus tells the parable because he was aware that his audience—some Pharisees—were “lovers of money.” Jesus addresses his word to what is in their hearts. “There was a rich man, who dressed and ate sumptuously...” Now, we might listen to that story and get agitated, because we are sniffing out what did this guy DO to deserve his fate? But the story doesn’t speak to any specific “wrong-doing” on the part of this rich man. He simply “disciplines” his life around what he loves, and because of the discipline he chooses, he is unable to see Lazarus.
I say that again—he is unable to see Lazarus, except in the terms that his discipline has taught him. His love of riches means that he never sees Lazarus as anyone at all—Lazarus is nothing to him, because his love leaves no space for any other alternative. There is no reason to pay attention to Lazarus, because Lazarus, poor that he is, does not increase what the rich man loves. The path of his life has a certain trajectory, and by the end, in agony, he still sees Lazarus as a means, as an instrument to his aims and goals. He never knew the poor man at his gate, never knew what was possible, never knew what he could offer—the help of God.
Now, it is important for us to remember that the parable is addressed to what love resides in the heart, not to money per se. It could be anything; indeed, in our current world, there are many things that clamor and demand our love, our loyalty; insist that we bend our lives to their discipline; threaten us if we do not open our hearts to them. The point is that whatever we love will shape us, and we will go willingly, to whatever end—you never know.
Except, we do know, don’t we? The one who loved the Father and walked the path of that love, paying the cost, despising the shame, claims us in the power of his love. Consider, the Son of God loves us, and so disciplines himself to offer himself for us, and to us. He does not look upon us for what we might give him, but rather begins with what he can give.
When you come to the altar, and hold out your hand, look closely at what you have received. It is a gift of love. It’s power is the power of God—to redeem, to renew, to bring repentance, to strengthen true love and faithful discipline. Our Lord’s call upon your life can and will take you on a path that will help you see, and do, so that everyone you meet becomes a Lazarus—help from God. Go ahead, take and eat. You never know.