The Chasm – Lent 2014 – Week 3

Luke 16:24-26:  And, when he had called, he said, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus that he might dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; because, I suffer in this flame.  But Abraham said, “Child remember that you, you received the good in life and Lazarus, likewise, the bad.  But now he is comforted, but you suffer pain.  And, besides, in the midst of us and you a great chasm has been established that even those who want to pass from here to there are not able; nor, those there cross over to us.

While I love the movie “The Shawshank Redemption” I’m not a fan of the novella upon which it was based.  One reason for this is that it lacks, I think, the sense of justice that makes the movie so satisfying.  Those who received the bad now receive the good, and those who enjoyed the good things…well, let us say that by movie’s end they suffer pain.

In this twenty-first century world, Jesus’ parable has a ring of justice to it.  Oh I know, and the commentaries remind me, that the first-century hearers of the tale would have been shocked by the rich man’s suffering.  During that time, it was believed the prosperous on earth were showing outward signs of God’s blessing.  But here, some twenty centuries later, it is not shocking but satisfying.  The mean man who ignored poor Lazarus all these years is getting his.  Let such justice roll down like waters, I find myself thinking.

Do not think here that I’m going to critique the desire for justice in the world (this one or the next one).  Such a desire is a good thing.  It can wake us up to notice who is at the feast and who is begging for crumbs.  It can cause us to act on behalf of those who are receiving all the bad.  And, on the best days, it can help us ease the suffering in this life.

But it can also create a chasm between us.

Too often when I hear a story on the news of some money-grubber who has tricked the elderly out of their savings or some heartless monster that has treated dogs or cats like things rather than the beloved, fuzzy part of God’s creation, I want justice.  I want due punishment meted out.  I want them to find themselves looking from afar at the aged and animals gathered around and cherished at Christ’s table.

Rightfully so that I or any of us desire to see criminal acts stopped and restitution made.  But what that desire, unchecked, does to me is not so right.  I, of course, see myself at Christ’s side, looking far off at this one, this monster that has treated one of God’s beloved in such an inhumane way.  I laugh at them as the flame rises, burning away everything they had.  I feel a deep satisfaction as they begin to cry out in the pain they have brought upon themselves.

Before I know it, a chasm deeper and wider than the eye can comprehend has formed at my feet.  If left unattended, its sides will continue to steepen and its gulf widen.  Who knows how long it will take, but sooner or later that separation, that great difference between myself and this one upon whom I so long for justice to roll down will be impossible to cross.

And, at that point, who knows which side of that gorge I will find myself upon.