Proper 21C 2007

Amos 6:1a, 4-7

1 Tim 6:6-19

Luke 16:19-31

What are you doing for Lazarus?

The parables of Jesus can change people. Take for example Dr. Albert Schweitzer, a person I admired through his biographies when I was a teen. Dr. Schweitzer heard the sermon preached about the parable of the rich man and Lazarus and his life was changed. For him, the rich man was Europe; the poor man was Africa. Dr. Schweitzer left the safety of England for the unknowns of the heart of Africa. He gave his heart, soul, time and talents to the poor people living in central Africa. I remember stories about Albert Schweitzer playing his little organ in the middle of the jungles of Africa, his practice of medicine among the people, and his acceptance of each person as worthy of the dignity Jesus offered to all who encountering his healing touch of loving acceptance. Albert Schweitzer knew what to do about Lazarus!

This past week the house of bishops of the Episcopal Church gathered in New Orleans to answer challenges within the Anglican Communion regarding our affirming of persons others feel are unworthy of inclusion in the church. Two major conflicts have been brewing and attracting media attention in recent years. The first is the Episcopal Church’s consecration of Gene Robinson, Bishop of New Hampshire, elected by the people of New Hampshire and approved by the rest of the Episcopal Communion. Gene Robinson is an openly gay man, living in a committed relationship with Mark. The conflict and controversy has made Gene a Lazarus in the Anglican Communion – the object of scorn, treated as if he were less than a full human being deserving off dignity and respect, the image of a man excluded, lying at the gate, excluded from the Lambeth list of invited bishops. In their zeal to correct the Episcopal Church, Primates from other provinces have challenged our position of inclusion. The Bishops met with Archbishop Williams and in prayerful dialogue reaffirmed the resolution of General Convention 2006 (B033). Essentially the Bishops dressed in purpose have decided to “exercise restraint by not consenting to the consecration of any candidate to the episcopate whose manner of life presents a challenge to the wider church and will lead to further strains on the communion.” They have pledged as a body not to authorize public rites for the blessing of same sex unions. They have commended to our Presiding Bishop a plan for alternative episcopal visitors – because in my humble opinion our Presiding Bishop is a woman – and for some in our communion that seems to make her Lazarus. At the same time the summary published Sept 25, 2007 says that the bishops call for “unequivocal and active commitment to the civil rights, safety and dignity of gay and lesbian persons.” For some of us it may be difficult to understand how we can respect the dignity of all persons and at the same time exclude persons from the episcopate. Either our baptism counts to make us members of the body of Christ or not. I believe that if Jesus were wearing purple he would not pass by Lazarus and leave him sitting at the gate but would stop and engage him in conversation, listen to him, acknowledge him as a person deserving dignity and respect. The Lazarus image is compelling and we have to ask, what have we as the Episcopal Church done for Lazarus?

The house of bishops also reported that thought the bishops appeal process over 1 million US dollars were collected to help with the rebuilding of homes destroyed by hurricane Katrina. The news media has published the conflict over our Lazarus, but has not acknowledged the generosity of Episcopalians to help the poor at our own Gulf Coast gate. The sum by only represent a token to many very wealthy members of our church but 1 million dollars is a significant contribution two years after the disaster that our government promised to make right and then neglected. The work we have to do for every Lazarus in New Orleans whose home was destroyed by floods is huge but it is not too much to ask. We are the wealthiest nation in the world. We have billions to spend on war! We can rebuild these homes, if we do not; we walk out the gate, past Lazarus and ignore his plight. What have we done for Lazarus? We have seen him and given a little but he is still waiting for enough help to rise from the gate and live.

Two weeks ago, I arrived in Uganda late at night. On the drive from the airport to the hotel we passed shadows that seemed to be houses but there were no lights. The morning paper revealed that power outages were common in the region. The hotel was a chain of four-star facilities owned and operated a very rich man in another nation. The spacious room, the decorated lobby, the full staff of vigilant security guards (with guns) at the gate, on each floor, and at the doors, gave me the impression of being held in a velvet prison, away from the poverty surrounding the hotel. Once outside the gates in the van taking us to the conference we saw the reality of life in Uganda. The street vendors stood in mud, splashed by the traffic, in order to sell a few bananas. Women walked with huge loads of wood or fruit on their heads, tall, straight, dignified trying to earn maybe a dollar for the day. Homes were huts, crowded in alleyways of unpaved red clay. Behind every gated expensive house were many small one room “homes” where the workers struggled to make ends meet. We visited two hospital facilities one in the city and one several miles into the countryside. In the latter facility there were old iron beds with barely a mat to support the patient, one nurse per ward, crowded to capacity with people whose name I don’t know but who fit the description of Lazarus in Jesus’ parable. For me Lazarus gained a new face, the face of a child with AIDS and malaria, too weak and sick to cry. Lazarus is every child, every man and woman living on a dollar a day in a world with too many people with no name, too rich and too preoccupied to care, to see, or to respond. What have do done for Lazarus? We have the MDG’s, the mission outreach embraced by the Episcopal Church and we at St. Paul’s have pledged our fair share to eradicate extreme poverty and to treat the sores of AIDS, Malaria, and TB affecting Lazarus.

It is worth noting that the rich man in the parable has no name but the poor man does! His name is Lazarus! He is a human being with a name. We may be tempted to generalize the categories of rich and poor, faceless, nameless, swarms of humanity and by doing so we dehumanize them. The Presiding Bishop has a name; it is Katherine. The gay bishop has a name; it is Gene. The homeless of New Orleans have names: Jane, Jim, Joe, Sally, Ann. The parable attacks the popular belief that wealth is an indication of being blessed by God and that poverty is punishment from God. The name Lazarus means “helped by God”. To free Lazarus from hunger, you give him food. To free him from disease, you provide doctors and medicine. To free him from the harsh sun and falling rain, you give him shelter. You can do this from selfish greed to get him out of sight or you can care enough about him as a human being that you do it from compassion. Luke is clear, if you care more about your money and possessions than you do about God’s kingdom in the here and now, you will have an account to give to the God who sees all and knows the hidden sins of our hearts. If we spend our time and talent on getting more and more for us, we will never be satisfied or fulfilled. There is always more to get. Enough is never enough. There will be something bigger, better to be bought. Giving is a remedy that frees the giver from greed and brings new perspective and priority to life. Where you treasure is, there your heart will be (Luke 12;34). So giving to others can also cure an uncaring heart.