Your Lazarus

This weekend, we will be looking at one of my favorite, oft forgotten parables.

It is the other story of Lazarus.

Not to be confused with Jesus's best friend who dies of an unknown sickness and is resurrected after three days, this Lazarus is an unmentionable who sits at the gate of a rich man's estate. Destitute, he is so poor and sick that dogs lick his sores.

Both Lazarus and the rich men die on the same day. One is carried to heaven. The other to Hades (not the fun part).

Lazarus is reclining at the chest of Abraham - it is the same word that is used to describe the way that the beloved disciple is reclining at Jesus's breast. Same word that is used to describe the way the Word of God (Jesus's eternal self) reclines at God's own breast. There is pure intimacy and love here. Safety. Rest. Security. Wholeness.

Meanwhile, the unnamed rich man is in the fires of Hell. He is literally at rock bottom, as the word implies, though the translators often render it torment. And from across the chasm he stamps his little foot and demands that Lazarus serve him.

Wow does he not get it.

Abraham, who oddly enough really didn't get it in his own lifetime on earth, is not moved in the slightest. "You had your pleasures and life to the fullest already. Lazarus went through a living Hell."

"Fine." Says the rich man, maybe starting to understand. "If It's too late for me, at least help my brothers back on earth."

"Ah," says the patriarch, "if they are so blinded by the world - even the truly miraculous will not help."

Note that the one with the name in this story is the person at the margins.

This is so incredibly important because we in the world take away the names of anyone and everyone who lives outside the center. The poor. The hungry. The prisoner. The migrant. We see them as huddled masses. We take away their names and give them a number. Quite literally. We don't care enough to ask. Just give us your number and we will give you what you might need.

But true wholeness, the kind that God desires for all of God's children, it requires knowing and understanding people's stories. And that starts by knowing their names. Seeing them as they are. Listening without judgement and listening to understand instead of respond.

The first step is to stop. To stay still. And look. Where is the Lazarus that you have missed?

See you Sunday!

Blessings,

Rev. Janie