TAKING OFF OUR BLINDERS

“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 name Lazarus, covered with sores...” Luke 16:19-20

You’ve heard me explain before that the story parables of Jesus are pictures of the Kingdom of God: what it’s about; how it works; the shape it takes in real life.  They are not fables that have a neat little moral lesson to them, but rather they are powerful picture stories of the Kingdom of God that are poignant and often intense. 

I would categorize today’s parable from Luke 16 most definitely as poignant, intense and confrontive.  This is not a parable for the squeamish, and more pointedly for those who think how we live has no real consequences.

I have read this parable countless times, but the one thing jumped of the page at me this time that I had never quite seen before.  The only person who has a name in this parable is the poor beggar with sores.  The rich man does not have a name.  He is simply called “the rich man.”  He has been called “Dives” but that is merely the Latin word for “rich man.”  The only person with a name in the story (besides Abraham who enters towards the end) is Lazarus. (not to be confused with the Lazarus of John’s gospel that Jesus raised from death) 

It is as if the parable is suggesting that as far as the Kingdom of God is concerned the only real, authentic person in this story is the poor beggar with sores lying at the gate of the rich man.  It’s not that the rich man doesn’t exist, (he exists all right) it is just that the Kingdom of heaven doesn’t recognize him and name him.  He is merely the “rich man.”

Now that is just the opposite of the way we normally think and live. We work so hard at trying to make a name for ourselves.  We strive, compete, accumulate, accomplish, advance, promote, acquire, struggle and scratch economically and socially, to get ahead – to make a name for ourselves – to be somebody.  By our value system the people with no names are the poor, the homeless, those on the margins, the failures, the panhandlers, those lost in nursing homes, the imprisoned, the strangers - on goes the list.  And then Jesus comes along and tells a story like this that seems to turn everything we know and the values we cherish upside down. 

Some years ago when hospitalized there was a woman in a room near mine who would yell on and off all day and all night long.  “Nurse!  Nurse!  Please come in here. I need somebody.    Please help me.”  I merely assumed she was confused and mentally out of it and couldn’t help herself.  When she would yell out nobody would pay any attention to her, and I noticed someone would even  shut her door to reduce her cries to a muffle.  The next day I noticed that her yelling had ceased, and I assumed she had been discharged from the hospital. I took a walk down the hallway and went past her room, and saw she was still there.  I then heard voices coming from the room.  I could hear a little bit of the conversation.  I heard someone ask, “Do you have any family.”  I heard her answer clearly and rationally, “Not really, all I have is a son who lives in Seattle and I never hear from him.”  A few minutes later I noticed the chaplain leaving the room.  And I simply had to wonder if perhaps her cries came from a very deep place of profound loneliness

Who is rich? It’s an important question the parable begs us to ask – and answer.  Most of us do not perceive ourselves as being rich.  Bill Gates is rich.  The founders of Google are rich.  Warren Buffet is rich.  Professional athletes and movie stars are rich – but not me – not you – not us!

But I don’t think so.  I don’t think Jesus would buy it and I don’t think that is Jesus’ intent.  He won’t let us off the hook so tritely.  You see, in the kingdom of God rich is a relative term.  Julie Luttinen told us that in Tanzania if you had  a simple house or shelter and a chicken, you would be considered rich compared to someone who is living with their parents and have no real possessions.  Rich is always a relative term, “rich compared to whom.”  Even though the chaplain I’m sure was called because “it was his job,” the chaplain was rich with time and opportunity to visit the lonely woman.  So were others on that hospital unit, including me, but we all had our reasons for ignoring the lonely woman.  Rich is a relative term.

One of the things I deeply appreciated about Julie’s presentations to us about her Africa experience a couple of years ago, and this year’s Africa Mission Team (which we will hear more from in the next few weeks) is that the people in her photos had names and stories; real people with real stories.

In the parable, while he was alive the rich man lived a more than a comfortable lifestyle. Luke tells us he “feasted sumptuously every day” (16:19).  While he was feasting, Lazarus was dying at his gate, wasting away with the afflictions of desperate hunger. Finally, they both died.

Lazarus, who was a nobody according to the world's value system, is raised to enjoy the consolations of heaven. While the rich man, who presumably had every choice available to him and the power to shape his life any way he wanted, is sent to suffer the torments of hell.  Only then, suffering the painful consequences of hell  does the rich man begin to assess his past life.  Only then did he begin to feel the consequences of his comfortable lifestyle — a lifestyle of ignoring the prophets’ summons to care for the poor and hungry, and Moses’ call to love God and neighbor — only then did he want to make a changes, but it was too late.

What ought to get our attention about this parable, is that the rich man appears to be living a successful life not unlike any other relatively wealthy persons in our time, which would include the most Christians in our prosperous and comfortable churches in North America.

There is no indication that he mistreated or abused the poor Lazarus in any way, not at all.  That’s not the issue.  The issue is that he lived his life in such a way that Lazarus lying at his very gate was rendered invisible.   

That woman in the hospital plays in my mind.  She was rendered invisible by most everybody.  She was ignored. The door was shut to muffle her cries.  How many nursing homes have I been in the last 30 years where the same or similar reality exists.

The chaplain was called to deal with it.  I know what that feels like.  How many times have I been called to “deal” with something, deal with that which others would rather ignore.  “That’s the pastor’s job, let him deal with it.”   And I deal it, not because it is my job, or because I’m a good guy or any such nonsense, but rather because I feel called as a Christian to be a little Christ to others.  I pray you feel that same call.  And you know what?  Most of the time I am totally surprised that when I deal with it, a real person, with a real story, turns up on the other end, and it usually turns out to be a gratifying and positive experience.  Does it mean that there haven’t been times when I’ve been used or conned?  Of course there have been times like that.  But then, I think of Jesus who after he healed the ten lepers, only one came back to thank him!  Yet, it didn’t stop him from healing lepers.  (Luke 17:11-19)

I believe it is so easy in our culture to not see people; to place outside our field of vision those who we do not want to see; those whose names we would rather not know.  There are so many ways we can choose to ignore, insulate ourselves and render invisible those who make us uncomfortable; those who we feel do not deserve our grace and compassion.

Many years ago while serving my home church as an associate pastor I left the church late one winter evening.  It was downtown church and the street I took on my route home was through a warehouse district.  It was one of those streets that had a railroad track running down the middle.  There was one retail business along the route, a tavern.  As I drove my car down the dim-lighted street I noticed a few blocks ahead me, in front of the tavern, some commotion in the street.  As I came a little closer I could see a man was down in the street, and two other man were kicking him brutally. 

What happened next was truly amazing.  It began inside of me.  I had a whole series of thoughts and feelings go through my head and heart in literally a moment’s time.  I first felt fear!  I thought if I go help I might get hurt.  They could have weapons.  They could turn on me.  I felt the overwhelming compulsion to put on blinders, turn at the corner before the tavern and simply ignore the situation as if I had never seen it – render it invisible.  I cannot even begin to tell how powerful and alluring that compulsion was. 

But for whatever reason I didn’t turn. I’m convinced is was the influence of the Holy Spirit that literally forced me to proceed straight ahead.  Without thinking I began flashing my bright lights, hit the accelerator, laid on the horn and drove right at them.  I must have scared them worse than I was already scared, because when they saw a car roaring almost out of control right at them they bolted and ran – much to my great relief.    But that’s not quite the end of the story.  As I got out of my car to attend to the beaten man, I looked towards the tavern’s front window and it was filled with faces looking out.  Faces that saw, but didn’t see. 

When you boil it down what I think this parable is about is taking off our blinders.  There are a million ways we can put on blinders and render others invisible.  There are a million ways to insulate ourselves from all those situations that make us uncomfortable and those people whose names we wish not to know.  This parable is a powerful and poignant challenge to take off our blinders. 

I don’t take the parable as a threat, but I do take it as a very intense and confrontive illustration about how I am called to live my life if I call myself a follower of Jesus Christ.  I take it as a wake-up call to our Lord Jesus who went through life without blinders and literally became good news to those he touched.

In our epistle this morning we hear Paul tell Timothy, “As for those in this present age who are rich… command them… to not set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches… but to be rich in good works, generous and ready to share… taking hold of the life that is really life.”  1 Tim. 6:17-19.

Can we save the whole world? – of course not – we cannot even come close!  Can we take hold of the life that is really life, the life of Jesus Christ and begin to live without blinders, responding to those who are lying at our gates out of justice, compassion and grace?  I believe, for Christ’s sake, we can - and we must!

If the Christian faith is to have any shred of credibility to a suffering world, it is the job of every Christian to take off the blinders and to render visible all of those Lazarus’s who up ‘til now have pretty much been ignored.  In so doing we may not feel so comfortable.  We may even be afraid and vulnerable, but one thing is for sure.  We will know we are alive “taking hold of the life that is really life.”