The Chasm – Lent 2014 – Week 1

Luke 16:19-21:  And there was a rich man.  He dressed in purple and fine linen celebrating all day sumptuously.  And there was a poor man named Lazarus—thrown at the entrance—covered in sores, desiring to be satisfied with the fallings from the rich man’s table. Even as the dogs came, licking his sores.

Lent is a time to think about separations, the things that divide us from one another.  First among those thoughts are those things that separate us from God.  But as the two commandments—love God, love your neighbor—are connected, so are our thoughts about what separates us from each other—the people who surround us and come in contact with us each day.  In this Lenten season, I invite you on a journey with me through a story that, I find, is all about separation.

You’ve heard this story before, and if you haven’t I imagine you’ll immediately pick a good guy and bad guy out of these first two verses  With just two descriptive terms, Jesus has given us free reign to picture this Rich Man—nameless, faceless to us—just as we like.

To me he’s one of those big bank people.  He made out like a bandit during the housing crisis a few years ago, was probably one of those responsible for the subprime loans and other financial shenanigans that caused your 401K and mine to lose half their value.  Oh yeah, I know this guy.  He’s got two or three houses, a private jet, clothes that cost more than my car.  He’s probably got friends who call up Congressmen every time a new tax comes up just to make sure he doesn’t have to give up one penny of his fortune.

He’s greedy, willfully blind to the need in the world around him, and I can’t help but snicker a little that one day he’ll be begging across the length of some deep, vast chasm.

At least, I do until I remember that’s not what this story is about.

Lazarus, we are told, deeply desires to be satisfied from the fallings from the rich man’s table.  The “desire” here is the same the prodigal son feels when he is starving and coveting what the pigs are fed.  We know for what his heart longs, for what would bring him joy.

But what is the desire of the rich man?  We know he has blinded himself to the suffering and need of Lazarus just outside his door.  Day after day he maintains the separation, the chasm that separates himself from Lazarus.  But who remains separate from him?  Who is blind to his suffering and need?  From whose table would the fallings—the crumbs—be enough?

I have no idea if this Rich Man or any of the nameless, faceless wealthy in our world today are longing for something.  But I do know that when I let my prejudice, my anger blind me, I will not ever reach out across the divide that separates us.  And I will never know if it is my table from which they long to fill themselves.