Proper 21c The Rich Man Has No Voice

+How do you like that Gospel—-Heaven, Hell, awesome comfort, eternal torment. Real uplifting. When I heard this gospel 50 years ago—when I was 8—-it figged me. The God I had learned about in Sunday did not banish us to hellfire and damnation. I knew that.. so conjured my own view of Hell. My grandmother was dumbfounded when I told her that Hell—Hades--was seeing everything happening in the world—-like the people in heaven did—-but being unable to do anything about it.
Just like the rich man in this morning's Gospel.
All the rich man wanted to do was warn his brothers not to place material wealth and status above God and love of neighbor. He wanted them to listen, to hear, to open their ears, their eyes and their hearts to love. Abraham reminds the Rich Man—-they have to learn this themselves. We all have to learn this lesson ourselves and then, as we learn it here on earth, we must live it in all we do so that we can spread it.This is the key of establishing God’s kingdom here on earth—by spreading love —for until all feel the love, none of us will feel it.
Abraham is telling the Rich Man this.But, even while in the torment of knowing the errors of his ways, he still cannot hear what it’s being said.
Can we? Will we?

Luke talks a lot about wealth. Not because Luke thought wealth was bad, but because Luke thought hoarded wealth was bad.

A couple of weeks ago it was the Rich fool and his barns, then the shepherd who leaves 99 assets behind to seek out one wandering sheep and the woman who, upon losing one of ten coins, throws a party spending the other nine when the tenth is found.

And then last week, the parable of the shrewd manager who cuts the debts of debtors so they will end up being indebted to him.

Now it’s easy to say that the Jesus portrayed in Luke’s Gospel doesn’t care much for the wealthy, preferring instead to spend his time with the poor and destitute—but what we’ve read these past weeks are parables and there’s always more to a parable than meets the eye…

At first glance in today’s gospel we have The Rich Man—-an uber consumer and hoarder of wealth—- hindered by his lack of awareness while on earth,  and now, in eternal life, tormented that his brothers cannot hear his shouts of warning from the grave.

The Rich Man has no voice.
He is not heard.

Is there anything worse than not being heard?

Of having something to say, and to have no one--- hear you?
No one to listen, no one to consider your point of view?

Several years ago I received a phone call from a woman requesting food from the Good Shepherd food pantry. Because the Food Bank has very clear rules for food distribution (to make sure all geographic regions of WNY have equal access to food)  I told her that her zip code didn’t fall within our catchment area.  The defeat in her voice was palpable. She didn't know what else to do, where else to turn. I assured her there was a solution and took a few minutes to match her zip code with a food pantry. She was very grateful and said something striking...so striking it has stayed with me these years.

“thanks for taking my call, pastor.” “Thanks for listening.”

Think about it---I wasn’t able to give her food from the pantry, I didn't even guarantee that she would get food. I simply took 3 minutes out of my day to point her in the right direction. Yet she was so grateful. Grateful that I took her call, that I listened to her, because when you’re in a position of needing to access food pantries, you’re rarely heard.

Poor people, to a good portion of our world, simply don't matter.

And that’s the lesson I glean from our stories about wealth this past month. The poor, the needy, the lonely, the lost, the elderly, the injured....they aren't heard, they aren't noticed, they don't matter....unless someone with more standing, someone with more wealth, someone with MORE reaches out to them, searches for them, listens to them and makes sure they are reached, touched, found and heard.
And this reaching, this listening, this noticing? It's up to US. Not congress, not the wealthy, not the famous and filthy rich. Nope. US.
We have a choice: we can be the hoarding farmer longing to build more barns or we can be the searcher of the lost coin. We can be the rich man paying no heed to Lazarus or we can be the shepherd seeking the one out of 99.

We can open our eyes, our ears and our hearts or we can close ourselves off, build a wall and stay firmly on the side of the haves while the Lazaruses of the world remain the have nots, the heard nots, the matter nots.

Our challenge isn’t to beat ourselves up for having stuff, it’s to bridge the gap between those who have and those who don’t. It’s our Christian duty, it’s the longing of Christ that we hear the cries of those without voice.
As I consider Jesus’ messages to us these past few weeks one thing seems crystal clear:
Money is not a bad thing, letting money blind us to the needs of others is.
Money isn’t a bad thing. Letting money separate us from our neighbor and our God, is.

My friends, whatever we trust more than God separates us from God.
It creates a chasm as wide as that between the Rich Man and Lazarus.
A gap seemingly too wide to ever bridge.
But when we lead with God, when we trust in God and when we love our neighbor by seeing her, hearing her and respecting her, that gap will be closed, that  chasm will be bridged and the love of God, spread.
And that, my friends, is the whole point.
Amen.

Until all are at the table none of us can eat. Proper 17c St Mark's Erie

In the 1960’s and early 1970’s back in my hometown of suburban Chicago, teenagers attended a group called Fortnightly. Oh how I remember watching my sisters get ready. They put on party dresses, donned gloves—not the ones used for warmth but the one’s used as a fashion accessory—-and headed to the community center to learn how to behave in a social setting. the girls learned how to be the perfect dinner companion, the boys learned how to be the perfect escort. I watched my sisters head to fortnightly with a combination of envy and confusion. Fortnightly was a rite of passage, it meant you were a big girl and I certainly wanted to be a big girl, but I was also filled with questions—-how is learning to be “better” than others in a social setting a good thing? How did Fortnightly pair with Sunday school? The lessons were conflicting….on the one hand, we have to make the table bigger so everyone can have a seat of honor and on the other, keeping your lipstick tidy while eating a four course meal will make you a better person.... it all messed with my six year old brain.
No doubt when my parents arrived at the Heavenly banquet they found out there was no dress code…..

Today’s readings seem pretty clear to me:
It isn’t about our social status, it’s about our compassion. Our humility. Our kindness.
It isn’t about our exaltation, it’s about God’s.

It’s easy to hear today’s gospel reading and think—-oh how nice, Jesus is telling the snobby Fortnightly people of 1st century Palestine to open their banquet to all, not just the kids who can afford the dresses, the suits, the gloves and the party shoes, but to everyone, including and especially, the poor, the crippled, the lost, the lonely, the immigrant, the refugee, the despised,  and the hungry.
It’s easy to say, “of course, we do— we love Jesus, we’re nice, we’re compassionate.

And we are. We mean well. We know we shouldn’t exclude, but include. We know we shouldn’t hoard, but share.
We know that by welcoming the stranger many have entertained angels without knowing it. But……
Belief, creeds, and pronouncements ——are not the same thing as action. And what Jesus is challenging us with, what the author of the Letter to the Hebrews is reminding us, what Sirach is telling us is this:
The kingdom of God doesn’t mess around with status.
The kingdom of God doesn’t tolerate shame.
The kingdom of God doesn’t play with this “haves and have nots” business.
The kingdom of God is about dignity
It is about equity
It is about justice
It is about love.

And the things which make the Kingdom of God hum? The things that please God?
These are the things we’re to be doing.
It is how we’re to live. It is what we’re to practice.
In all things and at all times.

My friends, we are the Body of Christ existing within God’s kingdom here on earth. To make the kingdom a reality for all is our job. Our sacred duty, our holy task.

And that job, these tasks, our duty isn’t fulfilled by jockeying for position at the head of the line or the top of the pecking order or the fulfillment of a Fortnightly course.

No, that job, these tasks, this duty is fulfilled when we treat all those whom we encounter just as we ourselves are treated by God. With love. With dignity. With respect.

I am convinced, thoroughly and utterly convinced, that we can change our world, this world, this country, this region, this city of Erie—-we can transform it from the nightmare that it often is into the dream God holds for it— one act of respect and justice and humility and kindness at a time. I am sure that by engaging in consistent acts of kindness we will unleash a revolution of love, a revolution needed to get this world back on track, to make the Kingdom of God a full out reality in our midst.
We don’t do this by being better than everyone else, by beating them to the head of the line. We do it by helping them reach the head of the line.
 Because, until all are at the table none of us can eat.
Whether it’s holding the door open for someone, whether it’s paying for the person behind you in line at the drive-thru. Whether it’s going to the school where you’ve donated backpacks or school supplies and saying, “hey, how can I help?” Or whether it is taking the check you write each month to the food pantry or the domestic violence shelter or the refugee resettlement program and saying to them, “show me the people who need this help” and then engage them in conversation —look them in the eye, shake their hand, offer them a smile.
However we do it, it’s time for us to walk this walk and to show all those who we encounter that we aren’t whole until they are.

The kingdom of God is not built on good intentions alone, the kingdom of God needs our action as well.
So go out into the world and bring everyone into the fold, for in the Kingdom of God there is no admission fee, there is no earning your place. In the kingdom of God there is only the welcome of all to all.
Amen.