(22nd Sunday after Pentecost) (Luke 16:19-31)
The Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus should make every one of us nervous; because, if we’re honest with ourselves, we’d have to say that our lives more closely resemble that of the rich man, who, we are told, dressed in fine clothing, and ate sumptuously every day. (Sumptuously: that means that he ate well. That means a table overflowing with the best food, and the best drink. Something to think about, as Thanksgiving Day draws near.) Every one of us has a roof over our heads, clothing to wear, and food to eat – indeed, even though we don’t consider ourselves to be rich, by comparison to some – the Donald Trumps of this world, for example – we should recognize that we live more comfortably, and with more luxury, than the vast majority of people across time and space. Only a few of us have ever suffered, or will ever suffer, in the way that Lazarus is seen to be suffering in the Gospel today.
Why does this matter? It matters because, among other things, our way of life blinds us to the truth – a truth that includes the reality of hell. Hell is real. The suffering is real. What’s more, God does not send people to hell – those who go there have chosen to do so. That’s part of the point our Lord is making in telling us this parable. He wants us to know that hell is real, that the torment there is real – and that the way we live makes a difference on the great and terrible Day of Judgment, when we must give an accounting for our lives, for every deed, every word, every thought, every desire. What have we done with the life God has granted to us? What have we done with the talents and abilities and resources God has entrusted to us? Have we been good stewards? Or have we been selfish?
Those who show no mercy, and those who give no alms, be warned: eternal punishment awaits you! Those of you who suffer, in body, mind, or spirit, rejoice! For you have hope to receive good things in the life to come, if you patiently endure your circumstances in this life. Consider Lazarus in his suffering. He has no place to live, but makes his bed at the front gate of the rich man. He has no food to eat, and would be grateful if he could eat of the food that falls to the floor in the rich man’s house, as the dogs do. He suffers from bodily sores, and from the agony of having the dogs lick those sores, being powerless to drive them away. Yet in all of this, he does not blaspheme; he does not curse God, or even blame Him, for his suffering; nor does he hate or blame or condemn the rich man for his wealth, or his refusal to share it, or make a charitable use of a part of it on behalf of Lazarus. When he dies, he is met by the angels, who escort him to a place of blessed repose. We know his name, for his name is also written in the Book of Life.
The rich man, on the other hand, is not given a name. He is not worthy to be remembered by God by name. He died, and was not met by angels, but was buried, as his soul had been buried all those years, buried alive in his flesh. He never had a heavenly thought during his lifetime; and so his soul departed, not for heaven, but to hades, to a place of torment.
Which end would you prefer? In which place would you rather dwell? (Well, duh!) So, consider this question: Where is the Lazarus in your life? Who is the person (or persons) you can help by using a portion – and we’re only talking about a portion, mind you – of what God has given to you as a blessing, to be a blessing, to be used wisely in His service? Maybe the answer isn’t as simple as it was for the rich man, who had a beggar outside his own front door. But the season is now at hand, here in the Valley, when we will have beggars on the street corners with their cardboard signs. Maybe you could set aside something to have at hand to stop from time to time and give them something. Thanksgiving Day is at hand; and even though it is not, strictly speaking, an Orthodox holiday (after all, we should give thanks to God every day, continuously), it is a day in our culture where we enjoy the richness of God’s bounty; and there are those who make it a point to provide a meal for those who might otherwise have nothing, or have only crumbs. You can make a donation to a local food bank – in fact, you can do this at any time of the year – but the need is particularly great right now.
Brothers and sister, beloved of God: We choose our place in eternity; and we demonstrate our choice by the way we live. Let us use the time God has given us wisely: in prayer and fasting; in studying the Bible, and the lives of the saints; in loving and caring for each other; in setting ourselves free from the world and our possessions by giving for the needs and work of the Church, and alms for those in need around us; and by struggling to turn away from our sins, and practice in their place the virtues pleasing to God. Then we also will have good reason to hope in the mercy of God, and to be met by angels when we depart this life, and be escorted by them to a blessed repose. Let us live with patient endurance and generosity, to the glory of God, and the salvation of our souls.
1 comment:
Recently my priest was reminiscing about a book he had read a long, long time ago, a fictional biography of the life of St. Luke the evangelist, and my husband and I remembered it as "Dear and Glorious Physician," by Taylor Caldwell. I thought it would make a nice surprise for Father, so I ordered it off the internet and am reading it before I pass it on (hey, it was published in 1959, I'm surprised the paperback is in as good a shape as it is). Ms. Caldwell makes a point that I'd like an Orthodox opinion on. (She was Catholic, BTW.)
One of her heroes, a Roman soldier of the "old school" (the Cincinnatus days of Rome), is considering the Roman government that is in place during his time, which in the beginning of the book is the birth of Christ. He's reflecting on how far the Empire has fallen from the days when it was a strong republic, and that part of the downfall of Rome is its cradle-to-grave welfare state; and his opinion, and the author's as well, is that the threat of starvation and freezing is a powerful incentive to getting out and earning a living, as opposed to having it handed to you by a benevolent welfare state.
Since this is how I was also brought up, I'm wondering how that "develop-a-backbone" philosophy fits in with the notion of Giving to Those in Need. Are they totally opposed to each other, these ideas? Is it considered a Christian responsibility to give freely without regard to the actual need of the recipient? What about the notion of, "I give through my taxes" -- certainly a valid point, but it kind of eliminates the *personal* aspect of charitable giving? I'd be interested, as I said, in the Orthodox perspective of all these apparently conflicting points of view.
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