Years ago I taught Sunday School to middle-school children. I remember teaching two parables in paritcular. When I
presented the Parable of the Bridesmaids the class asked why the wise
bridesmaids would not do what they were taught in church to do - share
the oil.
The other parable that remains in my memory is the Gospel for today the Rich Man and Lazarus parable.
When I taught this parable to this middle-school class they asked "Why
would the rich man be forever condemned in Hades because of the great
chasm if God loves everyone?"
Martin Luther, on this parable, writes; "First of all notice the rich
man, as far as the parable is concerned committed no glaring sins. The
Gospel does not mention them but rather it describes the purple robe he
wore and the food he ate, which are only external matters and God does
not judge according to them. Therefore we may presume he led outwardly
an exemplary, holy life; and, according to his own opinion and that of
others, he must have kept the whole law of Moses. But the Gospel has
penetrating eyes and sees deep into the secret recesses of the soul;
reproves also the works which reason cannot reprove, and looks not at
the sheep's clothing,
Martin Luther goes on further to state "Therefore we conclude that
the bosom of Abraham signifies nothing else than the Word of God,....
the hell here mentioned cannot be the true hell that will begin on the
day of judgment. For the corpse of the rich man is without doubt not in
hell, but buried in the earth; it must however be a place where the soul
can be and has no peace, and it cannot be corporeal. Therefore it seems
to me, this hell is the conscience, which is without faith and without
the Word of God, in which the soul is buried and held until the day of
judgment, when they are cast down body and soul into the true and real
hell." (Church Postil 1522-23)
What Luther helps me see are all the details that show that this chasm
is created by and in the rich man. The dogs who lick Lazarus' sores
have more interaction with him than the rich man in life. In death the
rich man addresses Abraham, not Lazarus and wants Abraham to use his
authority to send Lazarus, first for the rich man's comfort then to save
the rich man's family. Even in torment the rich man cannot find it in
his heart to recognize and address Lazarus or ask for his help.
It may be hard to see this is a gospel of love but I read it that way
today. This is the way of love as we sometimes perceive it in the world.
Lazarus is made more human and touches our hearts more deeply by being
given a name as opposed to the rich man whose name is not mentioned.
Yet, like Lazarus throughout all the stories and parables in the New
Testament; our Lazarus, in this gospel, is not given a word to say. We
can remember, when faced with the extreme injustice of the world, Jesus
also says nothing.
With the Word of God, God gives all we need to live a good
life. The rich man asks for Abraham to warn his five brothers (five
being the number of the senses we have to apprehend the physical world)
about the place of torment. Abraham replies, "They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.' The rich man disputes this, "No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.' Abraham simply says "If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'"
There
is something about wealth that can easily numb a sense of compassion
It is hard to think about but I remember six years ago, as part of his
father's presidential campaign, Donald Trump Jr. tweeted this graphic
to the left that likened Syrian refugees to
Skittles, which swiftly triggered a wave of criticism. He wrote the
following about the tweet:
"This image says it all. Let's end the politically correct agenda
that doesn't put America first. If I had a bowl of skittles and I told
you just three would kill you. Would you take a handful? That's our
Syrian refugee problem."
I read a response to this tweet that I have adapted from Eli Bosnick's original Facebook post at the time:
"If I gave you a bowl of skittles and three of them were poisoned; would you still eat them?"
"Are the other skittles human lives?"
"What?"
"Is there a good chance, a really good chance that if I ate a skittle
I would save someone from a war zone and probably their life?"
"Well sure, but the point -"
"I would eat the skittles."
"Ok, well the point is -"
"I would GORGE myself on skittles. I would eat every skittle I could
find. I would STUFF myself with skittles. When I found a poison skittle
and died I would want to leave behind a legacy of children and of
friends who also ate skittle after skittle until there were no skittles
to be eaten.
All of us would weep for each person who found a poison skittle. We
would weep for their loss, for their sacrifice, and, finally, tears of
gratefulness that they did not succumb to fear but made the world a
better place by eating skittles.
Because here is the REAL question...behind this inaccurate, insensitive,
dehumanizing little candy metaphor, a deeper and unspoken questions,
"Is my fear of my own death more important than the lives of thousands
upon thousands displaced men, women and terrified children? How should I
act when faced with that truth?
Eli's original quote inspired me. He also used language that denigrated
those who might answer no. He ended with a different question than
Trump Jr's:... and what kind of monster would think the answer to "Would you take a handful?"... should be no?
Although I hope my actions would follow this inspiration, I just might be that kind of monster.
I even changed the question from "Is my life more important" to the slightly less challenging "Is my fear of death more important?".
My soul certainly longs to answer no because of the way of love that
Jesus taught and this response to an insensitive tweet does activate my
imagination. However I know the pull and gravity of the mundane - but,
perhaps, more honest - response of no that comes from what might be
considered ordinary cautiousness.
I feel my yes response might be like Peter's declaration at the Last Supper, "Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you."
and his subsequent three denials before the cock crowed. If my fear was
stronger, my tears would be like Peter's weeping - different but no
less real than the weeping at the consequences of the other response.
Weeping for the falling short of what I thought could be the best in me.
Today Colombian migrants fleeing communism are used by politicians as pawns in a bid to change the political midterm election's discourse. Cruelty has definitely become the point and there is no respect for the humanity of these migrants.
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