“Damned bigtime”
By Rev. Michael Stonhouse
Meditation – Monday, November 18, 2024
Luke 16: 19-31 (Forward p. 20) CEV p. 1084
This has got to be one of the most damning stories of all time, today’s sad account of the rich man—often called Dives—and a poor beggar named Lazarus. The story is populated by two people that were all too common in the Palestine of Jesus’ day, the very rich and the very poor. Taxation was oppressive, depriving many people of their homes and livelihoods and driving them to destitution. And in a time and place where there were no food banks, no Medicare, and no social programs of any sort, the poor, if they had no family to support and provide for them, were particularly vulnerable, and often had to rely on begging to live. (It is noteworthy just how often beggars ‘show up’ in the Biblical accounts.) And the beggar in today’s story, Lazarus, ‘had it even worse’, for he was obviously quite ill. (We don’t know what his malady was, other than the fact that he was covered with sores, and not that far from death). As it was, you’d think that he’d be the object of pity from passers-by.
However, here’s where our other character comes in, the rich man we know as Dives. While he is identified as being rich, Luke’s description of his lifestyle makes this even more evident. He is dressed sumptuously, and not just on festive occasions. The garments he casually wore were the sort that the High Priest or Roman nobles would wear only on state or official occasions. And, as for his meals, his every day diet was a model of conspicuous consumption. Whereas most people could enjoy meat only occasionally, if at all, this was standard fare for him. However, in a sense, Luke passes over all this without comment, as if not to criticize this in itself.
What Luke criticizes is that this rich man didn’t even notice, didn’t even care. Lazarus would have loved having even the table scraps from his meals, but the rich man gave him nothing, nothing at all. And here was the dreadful indictment of the man’s behaviour. To have a need all around him, not even to notice it, and not to respond, was inexcusable, beyond the pale. It was reprehensible. The man was damned bigtime.
Both men died, and were consigned to their appropiate destinations, Lazarus to reside in Abraham’s bosom and the rich man to the fires of hell. But even here, he doesn’t learn his lesson. He somehow thinks that Lazarus should be at his beck and call, firstly to relieve him in his misery, and secondly, to warn his brothers of their fate, the fate they would share with him if they did not change. But, to this, Abraham tells him in response, ‘they have Moses and the prophets to warn them—and presumably, to tell them of their duty’, and ‘if they won’t heed them, they won’t even listen should someone rise from the dead.’ Talk about a damning report!
But lest we dismiss this warning, and this indictment, as not applying to us, let us think again—that is, to ponder the needs around us, and more importantly, the people that lay behind those need, and to consider whether we might have the resources, be they on the material realm or social or spiritual, that those people might need. Let us not fall into the same trap and error as our rich man did.
Forward notes: “Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us” (verse 26).
“I tend to believe that heaven and hell are manifest here on earth long before the end of our lives, formed in response to the way we live. When we are kind and loving, we manifest a kind of heaven here on earth. When we notice the beauty of good creation or delight in one another, or pray, or sing, we experience a manifestation of heaven. Conversely, when we separate ourselves from others, hoard our resources, or allow greed into our hearts, we manifest a kind of hell.
“Through this lens, the rich man has created a chasm between himself and Lazarus long before the end of his life. He lives with this distance between them, fixing in his life a great chasm between himself and the poor man outside his gates. Closing the chasm would require the rich man to look at Lazarus and see his humanity—and offer in return a piece of his own humanity.”
Moving Forward: “Is there a chasm in your own life that you’re longing to close? Set aside your pride or anger and step toward bridging the gap.”