If I were a rich man

Today’s text is one of the more familiar, and more straight forward parables in Luke’s gospel.  We see that it’s part of a greater conversation with the Pharisees about money.  Up to this point, the Pharisees have been eavesdropping on Jesus’ conversations, but now they have come forward to ridiculing him, “sneering” at the parable of the Manager and the Rich Man that we discussed last week.  Jesus, in response to their grumbling, tells the “money loving” Pharisees another story about riches…a parable that substantially raises the stakes in the critique of the Pharisees. 

This parable borrows from generations past, going all the way back to the time when the Hebrew people were under Egyptian rule.  The set-up of the parable is two worlds within two worlds, a common Egyptian literary format, and there is some debate that this parable echoes a first-century Egyptian story (found recorded on papyrus fragments) about a poor man named Setme, and a nameless rich man.  Rabbis also tell a similar story about two holy men who die and have to account for their actions (or lack of actions) while they were still living. 

We start out being introduced to the rich man.  The rich man has no name.  Is it the same rich man from the proceeding parable?  We don’t know, but the Greek pronouns in both parables do carry over from one to the other.  This rich man, we quickly see, is more than “just” a rich man.  He is dressed in purple and fine linen.  You and I can wear purple every day if we choose…but in the time of Jesus, that would not have been possible, unless you were the absolute upper tier of the ladder of social status and power.  Typically only royalty could afford to wear purple, which is why it is commonly, especially in antiquity, attributed to royalty.  So it is very plausible that this rich man was indeed someone powerful, important, and wealthy, a detail that Luke continued to stress when he added, “who feasted sumptuously every day”.  Purple and linen doesn’t resonate with me…but feasting sumptuously every day does.  This made me think of the “feast” days we observe and celebrate, usually with our families.  At Easter, at Thanksgiving, and at Christmas, my entire family gets together (and there might be upward of 150 of us), and we share a feast.  Our tradition is Prime Rib at Easter, Turkey at Thanksgiving, and Ham at Christmas.  And that’s just the focal point of the feast…it’s always surrounded by a cornucopia of complimenting dishes like potatoes, carrots, corn casserole, green beans, dressed eggs…y’all are getting the picture.  If you have ever been involved in preparing a meal like this, this opulent, grand, and extravagant, there’s two things you know:  it’s very expensive, and it’s very time consuming.  Which is why we don’t (or at least not me or anyone I know) eat this way every day.  But this rich man, he did.  Every single day.  In his home…surrounded by his fence and his gate.

Next, we meet Lazarus.  This is not the same Lazarus whom Jesus resuscitated in John’s gospel account.  I personally have never met a Lazarus, but Lazarus was apparently a common name…back then.  We are likewise informed of the same three things we just learned about the rich man in Lazarus’ life, where he lives, what he wears, and what he eats.  We see that Lazarus lives just outside the rich man’s gate; Lazarus is homeless.  He doesn’t wear purple and linens like his counterpart, rather being dressed in sores that weep with irritation, because the dogs continually come and lick them.  He has no food, eats no feasts; he was so hungry that he longed for the crumbs and waste that fell from the rich man’s table.  He is, in every way, the antithesis of the rich man.  In all ways but one:  they both die.

When Lazarus dies, he receives no funeral, no burial.  No one mourns him, no one grieves his death, no one misses him.  He is carried off in death by the angels to be with Abraham, we are told.  In a reversal of events, Lazarus was shed of his old life of homelessness, hunger, and misery and is now clothed in peace, love, and mercy.

When the rich man dies, his death mirrors his life; when he died, he had a proper funeral (which was a big deal in that culture.  It was a closely held value that each and every person, regardless of how they lived, had a proper and respectable burial).  I would imagine that the proper funeral was scaled to match his life.    But, this is where life’s amenities end for the rich man, for when he awoke, he found himself in a place called Hades (Greek term).

At this point, the rich man calls out to Abraham for mercy, and asks him to send Lazarus to bring him water…even just a drop.  Abraham tells the man that there is a great chasm (a vast separation) between them that cannot be crossed.  The rich man would know no mercy, relief, or reprieve from his agony.  Then the man (in a way) steps outside of himself and begs Abraham to send Lazarus to his five brothers, so that they may be warned and avoid the same eternal future; again, Abraham denies the request of the rich man. 

The juxtapositions are deep:  rich and poor, heaven and hell, superior and inferior.  There are so many working parts to this story which leaves the reader with so many questions:  If the rich man could see Abraham and Lazarus, and Abraham could see the rich man, could Lazarus also see (and hear) the rich man?  What happened to the five brothers?  What am I supposed to do?  How much am I supposed to do?  When I see homeless people maybe I’ll give them a couple of dollars, but every homeless person?  I can’t help every homeless person.  What if they’re going to buy alcohol, or drugs with the money I give them?  And what if they’re not homeless, but panhandling for money instead of working when they live in a nicer house than me and drive a nicer car than me? 

So what do we do?  How can we keep from suffering the same fate as the rich man is what we’re all wondering really, isn’t it?  Well of course it is…because we want to make sure to avoid making the same mistake(s).  So we think back over the rich man’s life…and we don’t have much to go on.  So is he in Hades because he is rich?  Is he in Hades because of something else he did that we don’t see here? 

I think…we don’t see what he saw but didn’t see.

You got that…right?  We don’t see, what he saw, but didn’t see.  So what is it?  What did we not see?  What did the rich man see but not see?  Well, it’s Lazarus.  He saw Lazarus with his eyes, he saw him when he passed him on the walkway, when he went through the gate into his house, and as he gorged himself on his feasts; even after death continued to see Lazarus.  But, how did he see Lazarus?  Not as a person.  Not as someone created in the image of God.  Not as the least of these.  We know in life his wealth made him blind to Lazarus, and in his eyes this elevated him above this poor man.  He had the ability to help Lazarus and did nothing.  He refused to see.  In death, his views of Lazarus didn’t change; in all of his pleading with Abraham, the rich man never once mentioned his own actions, rather continuing to objectify Lazarus asking Abraham to “order” Lazarus to do his bidding. 

So was the rich man’s deadly infraction blind objectification?  I believe so.  In his heart of hearts he refused to see Lazarus as a fellow human.  This led me to a lot of questions that swirled around in my head, and with each question came another question.  And I’ll admit here that I don’t have the answers, but one thing I know I will do is see as much as I can, the good, the not so good, and everything between.  I’ll open my eyes and see those who live their lives without shelter, and won’t stop to judge whether or not they “want to be there or choose to be there” or not.  I’ll choose to see past the decisions that brought them to this point, and see them where they are, and go to them.  I’ll choose to not focus on the  abstract possibilities (if I give them money, what will they do with it), and I’ll focus on what I’m called to do.  I’ll open my eyes to all the unseen ways I objectify all of creation:  the women and children who labor in sweatshops and remain invisible behind the labels I buy, the suffering of animals in factory farms who are invisible behind the fast food I eat, the suffering of the suspect who is tortured behind locked doors out of sight to calm our fears, the systems that feed upon the suffering of others while keeping these sufferings invisible. 

You and I have an upper hand here; you and I have an opportunity that the rich man did not have.  We have a chance to change.  We aren’t in Hades, looking back on our lives, seeing the missed times do to things differently.  We have the here and the now to do things differently, because when we know better we do better.

Change is scary.  Change is not natural to us.  Change is the one thing we will resist with every fiber of our being.  I once asked someone wiser than me, “then how do we change?”…and her answer was “changes begets change”.  We change by changing, and this type of change starts outside of us.

A mixup mashup of words

September 22, 2019 * Luke 16:1-13

This morning’s Gospel text is one of the most troubling in the whole Bible for most people, and I include myself in that.  It’s the kind of story that I wish wasn’t in the Bible, but since it is, together, let’s wrestle with it and try to understand it.

It begins with classic story-telling words:  “There was a rich man who had a manager.”  At this point it has become very clear that Luke talks more about riches than any other Gospel.  The first character named here is the rich man.  We don’t know much at all about this rich man, other than he is a man, and he is rich.  Based on the information that follows, we discover that he is so rich that he needs a manager to handle his business, and he seemingly has a “diverse portfolio” as we’d call it.  Odds are, he owns a substantial amount of land and leases it out for a percentage of the yields.  He could possibly (and probably is) involved in other types of business dealings, but for today’s purposes, we’ll stick to the information Luke gives us. 

Something has happened; someone has come to this rich man and brought “charges” that his manager was squandering the money he was charged with managing (squandering means to waste in a reckless manner).  The rich man asks, “what is this I hear about you?  What have you been doing with my riches? I want a full accounting of what you’ve been doing…you can no longer be my manager.”  If this were to happen today, it would be 4:30, on a Friday, and your boss would come to you and ask you for your keys, your company credit card, and you’d be escorted out of the building.  But, for whatever reason, it seems that this rich man is allowing the manager to continue working, for however short or long a period. 

I’m sure this hit this man, this manager, like a ton of bricks!  He really had it made!  His boss (the rich man) probably trusted him with everything and was basically an absentee boss, he would have been well respected and while probably not rich himself, by virtue of his position would have been elevated to the upper level of the social ladder in this caste society.  He had it made.  And maybe because of that, he became too comfortable.  With a few sentences his whole world came crumbling down, and he began to do what any one of us would have done, and that’s moved into self-preservation mode.  He begins to evaluate where he is in life, the potential outcomes of this situation, and what his options are.  He’s not strong enough to do manual labor, he says, and too proud to beg.  So what is he to do?  How will he survive?  Woes me, says the manager.

Then, the light bulb came on and he knew what he would do.  Yes!  It’s the perfect plan!  I will call a meeting with my boss’s debtors and I’ll tell them what to do.  The one who owes a hundred jugs of olive oil, I’ll tell him to quietly take his bill, and with a little white out and some finesse…now you only owe 50!  And to the one who owes a hundred things of wheat…how about make that 80! 

This is where things start to get a little messy.  Theologians and scholars disagree widely about what just happened: 

One set of commentators allege that the manager could have actually placed an upcharge on the bill for his own benefit from the beginning; and this would fit with the squandering that was spoken of earlier.  Perhaps the manager had fraudulently sent out these billings with a little extra, to pad his own wallet, and when he was reducing the bills (without consistency, might I add), he actually removed the fraudulent portion and left the amount actually owed.  The rich man would not have noticed this because all along what was owed was actually 50 jugs of olive oil and 80 bundles of wheat.  Totally plausible.

The second popular belief surrounding this parable is the manager forfeited his commission.  He would have, as a part of his contract or benefits/salary package with the rich man, a negotiated percentage he would have collected as a commission for each transaction he brokered for the rich man.  So when he reduced the balance due on each bill, the rich man would have been technically out nothing.  It would be the manager who would be doing without these items of currency.

Thirdly, there is the mention of the word “mammon”, which translated means dishonest wealth.  Perhaps the rich man was involved in some unscrupulous and illegal business dealings.  Maybe he was charging interest on what was owed him, which would have not been ok per their legal system (Deuteronomy 23:19-20 and Ezra 7:22).  So perhaps by reducing what was owed, the manager was doing the “right” thing and removing the interest. 

These things aside, the manager’s motive remains the same:  be reducing the debt, by being the one responsible for this, the debtors would pay back the rich man and be freed easier of what they owe him, but in exchange they would become indebted to the manager, who would then make their balance due payable in full immediately when he found himself unemployed, and possibly even homeless (re:  “welcome me into their homes”). 

Before his dismissal (or exit interview as we call it), I’m sure the manager is prepared to hear the worst from his employer.  Instead, though, the rich man speaks words of commendation to the manager, applauding his strategy and shrewdness (shrewdness being using sharp powers of judgement). 

So does he follow through with discharging the manager from his employment?  Does the parable end with v8, or 9, or continue through 13?  What was Jesus doing praising a dishonest manager?  Why did Jesus tell us that we should emulate a man who potentially stole property that didn’t belong to him?  When Jesus has, so many times, told us to dispose of our wealth and not worry about tomorrow, why is Jesus commending someone who did just that?

So many questions.  I’m sure you have several swirling around in your head…those are just the surface of what came to mind for me.

The text ends with a familiar statement of “you can’t serve two masters:  you cannot serve God and wealth.”

We automatically equate wealth with money (or at least I do, anyway).  But, that’s not necessarily always the case.  While you and I may not be wealthy with money, when we open our minds and our eyes we begin to see that we all, are indeed, wealthy people.  Perhaps we are rich with love, or peace, or humility.  Maybe we have been blessed with a spirit of wisdom, or discernment, or influence.  Maybe we have a position of status in the community or at our places of work.  Perhaps we are surrounded by a large family and a friends so numerous we’d never be able to count them.  The ways in which we can be wealthy are more numerous than there are fish in the sea; which then begs the question:  how are you managing your wealth?  What are you doing with the riches at your disposal?  Are you squandering what you have, recklessly wasting it with disregard, or are you making shrewd decisions? 

This parable can be interpreted a thousand different ways; I’m not saying what has been revealed to me is the only way.  But, for me, all paths in this parable wind their way back to stewardship, and we know the spirit of good stewardship is at the heart of discipleship.  We are tasked with being good stewards of the Gospel, of the church, of each other.  We are expected to be responsible stewards of the earth, of justice, of peace.  We are to be honest stewards of our riches. 

To reflect back on that final statement in this morning’s text, I’m left questioning myself, how do I serve God and not my wealth?  I think I need to start that examination with the question, “how am I using (or stewarding) my wealth to serve God?”