How Shall We Live?

Luke 16:19-31

There are a lot of directions you can go with this text.

There is the one that leads to a critique of the rich man and the one that leads to sympathy for Lazarus.  There is the one that shows rewards in heaven and the one that shows torment in hell.  There is the one that shows the meek inheriting the earth and the one showing the powerful made low. There are many diverging roads available to us in this text. 

In my experience most preachers take the first one; critique of the rich man.  After all, there is little that is easier to do in the gospels than stand in the pulpit and beat the hell out of the rich.  In this story the rich man is a ready and easy straw man and a shallow and surface reading of this text can make it appear that “wealth is bad” is the central theme.

I am not so sure.  I think there may be something more happening in this text than just a critique of an unsympathetic rich guy.

Lurking beneath that surface this familiar text draws us to another perspective.  It is not a particularly easy one because unlike the rest it does not pit one against another.  No rich vs. poor or saved vs. damned.  It is a perspective that does not take sides and, as such, one from which none of us, not even the preacher, can hide.

If we press down on the edges of this text, a subtle yet essential question is posed; how shall we live this life? 

Setting aside the prejudice against or in favor of wealth, setting aside the political and social dynamics between the rich man and the poor man, setting aside questions about the life that comes after this one, and setting aside the question of who goes to heaven and who goes to hell, we are left with that one subtle question; how shall we live this life?

One answer to that question comes from a little man in a long green coat, his hat cocked to one side, standing with one foot on a steep roof, playing the fiddle.  “We are all fiddlers on the roof,” he says, “trying to scratch out a pleasant little tune without falling down and breaking our necks.”  And how do we keep our balance?  “I’ll tell you, “ sings Tevye in the opening song of the musical inspired by Chagall’s painting, “in one word, I’ll tell you.  Tradition!”

In some measure we are a church full of Tevyes, struggling to make meaningful music out of our lives but lacking a level place to stand.  We seek to know what God calls us to do and to be, before a new wind threatens to blow us off the roof.

 The people of Anatevka knew what God expected of them because they knew their traditions.  They were traditions formed by generations of observance and teaching. 

We, who live as followers of Jesus Christ, know how God expects us to live because we know the witness of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  It is in Christ Jesus that we find our tradition- our way of living.

When he is pressed on how we are to live, Jesus responds “you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul and your neighbor as yourself.”

That, Jesus tells us, is the law summed up;  that is the life God calls us to live. 

And that is precisely what trips the rich man up in our text today.  Traditionally known as Dives, which is not a name but in Latin means wealthy, the rich man is punished not because he was rich but because his riches distracted him from living a life of love for God and neighbor.   

At the heart of this story is not condemnation of wealth but condemnation of failure to hear the Good News and act on it. 

According to the story, it is too late for Dives.  I’m not sure that it is, but that is what the story tells us. 

What is certain is that Dives finds himself in his present condition not because he dirtied his hands with money but because he could not be bothered to dirty them by lifting up poor Lazarus and embracing him as a brother in Christ.

Those of us who, like Dives, neglect our neighbors, who fail in acts of piety and charity, not only neglect our neighbors; we neglect and offend God.

Yes, when we fail to live faithful, charitable, loving lives we offend God and we do violence to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

If you are getting a little uncomfortable hearing that, I can assure you it is no more comfortable saying it.  That sort of admonition from the pulpit is dangerous stuff and in our culture it is not something we are used to hearing and certainly not something I am used to saying!

It is nonetheless true.  This is a cautionary tale about what we reap when we sow indifference to God’s command to love.

This story is indeed a cautionary tale about ignoring God’s commands.

But it is also as story about the fullness of God’s call and love for humanity.  From the well fed and well-bred to the beggar grasping for crumbs from the table, none of us is outside the embrace of God and none of us live beyond the horizon of God’s notice.

The mistake that Dives makes is thinking that his wealth is a sign of God’s pleasure and permission to ignore God’s command to love his neighbor- even the smelly one at the gates. 

The story reminds us that we who have been en-grafted into the Christian life, we who have heard the stories and sung the songs and said the prayers, have not been inoculated against sin but initiated into the work of God in Christ.  My worship professor in seminary said that when we baptize babies into the family of the church, rather than kissing and hugging them, we should look them in the eye and say, “now your troubles are just beginning.”

He was right!  Being a disciple of Jesus Christ is not a get out of hell free card.  Faith in Christ is not fire insurance!  It is an all-encompassing way of encountering and being encountered by the world.

Duke Divinity School professor Stanley Hauerwas begins one of his classes by reading a letter.  It is from a parent to a government official.    The parent complains that his once obedient son has become involved in some weird religious cult.  The group has completely taken over his life and forced him to forsake what he was taught to respect at home and adhere to a strange new code.  The parent pleads with the government official to intercede and take action against this group and help restore this family.   

Then Hauerwas asks the class, “What is this letter about?”  The responses varied from it must be the Mormons to a concern that the kid had fallen in with the Moonies or some other controversial sect.  After letting them get worked up into a good lather about how destructive this cult was to the stability of the family, he tells these pontificating pastors-to-be the origin of the letter.  It is from a concerned father to the local governor in the third century Roman empire.  The cult he is so concerned about is this new sect the Christians.

Being a disciple of Jesus Christ is not a part-time occupation; it is not an amusing diversion for an hour or two each Sunday.  It is something that can and must define every part of our lives.  Listen again to Jesus’ words, “you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul and your neighbor as yourself.”  

The Christian life is defined by giving our all to God and neighbor.

For Dives, his wealth blinded him to the neighbor right at the gates to his own home.  His wealth rather than his devotion to God became his spiritual measuring stick and, in the fullness of time, he found that his life was wanting.

What, I wonder, blinds us in our lives?

It may be wealth.  It may be power.  It may be prestige. It may be admiration or adoration.  Whatever it is that serves as the metric of our lives, if it is not fulsome devotion to God and love for neighbor, it is a false measure. 

If there is a holy law- a theological litmus test by which we will measure our public and private selves let it be this; is mine a life that reflects love for God in heart, mind and soul?  Is mine a life that reflects the very love of God in heart, mind and soul? 

When Christ truly dwells in our hearts, minds and souls, there is not room for anything else.  The love, grace and mercy of Christ takes up every scrap of spiritual space we will give it. As the hymn says, “our hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus blood and righteousness.  I dare not trust the sweetest frame but wholly lean on Jesus name.” 

            And when Christ is our all, nothing else can be. 

            In good times and bad, Christ is our all.

In life and in death, Christ is our all.

In sickness and in health, Christ is our all.

In plenty and in want, Christ is our all.

Christ is the means and the measure of every life of faith.

            We are all fiddlers on the roof, struggling to keep our balance while we scratch out a tune for our lives.  And just when the wind seems too strong, just when it seems that we will lose our balance, Christ, our all in all, helps us keep our footing and the music of our lives together goes on.

            In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.  Amen.