Sufficient Evidence

Sermon manuscript for Green Lake Church of Seventh-day Adventists for Sabbath, August 29, 2015

Old Testament text:

Those who oppress the poor insult their Maker, but helping the poor honors him.

Those who mock the poor insult their Maker; those who rejoice at the misfortune of others will be punished.

If you help the poor, you are lending to the LORD--and he will repay you!

Those who shut their ears to the cries of the poor will be ignored in their own time of need.

Whoever gives to the poor will lack nothing, but those who close their eyes to poverty will be cursed.

The godly care about the rights of the poor; the wicked don't care at all.

Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed. 9 Yes, speak up for the poor and helpless, and see that they get justice.

Proverbs 14:31; 17:5; 19:17; 21:13; 22:2, 9, 22; 28:27; 29:7; 31:8-9

New Testament (sermon) text: Luke 16:19-31

If I were going to make a movie of the second half of Luke 16, the opening scene would be based on the classic cartoon picture of hell. You would see the devil walking around with his pitchfork. Flames would be flickering up through the black grate that formed the floor. People would be wandering around in misery or sitting on fireproof benches. If you turned the sound up, you'd hear some moans and groans. You might hear flames crackling. But mostly you'd hear grumpy voices, people complaining.

“I can't believe I got sent here. It is NOT FAIR! I'm not half as bad as Andy and unless he's lived to a hundred ninety-three, it looks like he managed to snag a ticket to the other place. The system is so rigged.”

“Oh yeah.” his buddy retorts. “You think you got it bad? My fifth wife showed up down here. I wish she was in heaven. I think she dropped out of church just so she could be sure and end up here to torment me.”

As the camera zoomed in on conversations, you'd hear more complaints, protests, and endless comparisons. “I was reasonably happy here until they moved Jack Scary Face in next to me last week. If I had realized I'd have to live in the same neighborhood of hell as that guy I might have tried a little harder to make it to heaven. What were they thinking. I was a reasonably law-abiding guy. Well, at least I was WAY BETTER than Jack.”

As the camera wandered here and there catching snippets of conversation, hints of faces and body language, the only thing that would keep the weight of misery from crushing you would be the dark humor of it. Everyone in the place knew they deserved better than they got. Everybody was better than who ever was next to them. All of them could think of people who deserved torment more than they did. I might have been cruel to cats, but you were cruel to dogs. (Sorry about that, cat lovers.)

Then camera would pull back slowly and you could see that hell was located on an immense plateau bordered on all sides by cliffs that fell away for thousands of feet into smoky, unfathomable depths. Then startlingly, you would see that perhaps a hundred yards to the west, maybe even less, another mesa rose up from the smoky depths. The top of this mesa was a dazzling vision of cascading streams tumbling over white rocks, luxurious moss lined ledges. Giant redwoods and Doug firs stepped back from the stream on the left. Toward the right was a meadow carpeted with more wildflowers than you see in Grand Park in a good year. People were happy. As the camera zoomed in you heard laughter and banjos. You saw dancing and eating. People were handing each other treats and urging, “Ooh, you've got to try this. This is amazing!”

Your eye is drawn back to the dark plateau of hell. Standing at the very western edge as close to heaven as he can get you see a small figure. The camera zooms in. It's a dignified old man, dressed in fine clothes. His hands are cupped. He's calling toward heaven.

“Father Abraham. Father Abraham!”

Astonishingly, we see a response on the other side. At the visual and social focal point of mesa, there is a grand throne and seated on it a very impressive man with a long white beard. It's Father Abraham. (Abraham fills the same role in Jewish lore that St. Peter occupies in Catholic cartoons about heaven and hell.)

Father Abraham is engaged in happy, animated conversation with someone. They break off talking and together look over toward the lone figure standing at the very edge of hell.

Father Abraham cups his ear with his hand. “What was that?”

“Could you send Lazarus over here with a bit of water. It's really hot and dry over here. I'd really appreciate it if you could just have your good man Lazarus there bring me some water.”

Abraham looks at the man he's been talking with. The man, obviously Lazarus, shugs his shoulders.

Abraham starts laughing. “What was that?” he calls back.

“Please send Lazarus over here with a spot of water. I could really use a drink.”

“Tell what,” Abraham hollers back. “It appears you and Lazarus here must be old friends. Lazarus has just been telling me how hard life was for him back on earth, how he was destitute, what with his bum feet and his scoliosis. He was constantly dependent on other people. So I'll send him over with the same amount water you used to give him when he was sitting in the sun begging.”

As Father Abraham is hollering this message across the Grand Canyon that separates the two worlds, we watch the rich man's face. At Abraham's first words, “You must be old friends,” the rich man's face brightens. Lazarus did remember him! That was a good sign. But when he heard Abraham's suggestion that he would send over the same amount of water the rich man used to share with Lazarus, the rich man's face grew quizzical. He struggled to remember how many times he had arranged for the beggars at his gate to get water. Surely, there must have been occasions, really hot days, days when he wasn't fully engaged in other pressing business, surely there were some times when he had sent one of his servants out with a water jar. But as he searched his memory his face went dark.

Yes, there had been beggars at his gate. Every person of means had beggars at their gate. That's the way society worked. The poor people sucked off the rich. He remembered how annoying they were. Slowly he recalled how angry he used to get. Why didn't they go beg somewhere else? Why didn't they buy their own farms? He was especially repulsed by the beggars with deformities. They were so ugly with their twisted feet, their misshapen legs, their arms burned off at the elbow, their eye sockets reminding him of open graves. He hated them.

Father Abraham was talking again. “Actually, old man, I know that when Lazarus here was lying at your gate he got no water from you and no food. I know that back when the two of you were in close proximity, when it was possible for the two of you to share life, it didn't happen. The most Lazarus got from you was the friendly licks of some of the dogs that scrounged crumbs under your table. So really, it wouldn't be appropriate for me to send Lazarus to help you out. And besides, you can see the chasm between us is far to deep for anyone to cross. I'm sorry. But people don't go back and forth from your place to here. That's just the way it is. You understand.”

The rich man was quiet for a few minutes. Everything Abraham said was true.

Finally, he rallied himself. “Okay, I get it. I blew it. I own that. And I can see that Lazarus can't cross the canyon between us, but would you at least do me this favor? I have five brothers back home. They still have time. They are still in the land of the living. Would you be able to send Lazarus back to warn them? Let them know how things are so they won't end up here?”

Now, put yourself in Abraham's shoes, or rather in his seat. Imagine you are receiving this request. What would you say? Would you send Lazarus to warn the brothers?

Up to this point in the story, Jesus is following a classic theme in Jewish theology—the grand reversal. This is prominent in the words of several of the prophets and in the famous songs of Hannah and Mary. When God acts decisively at the end of the time, the high and mighty are going to be brought low. The lowly are going to be raised up. The entire pecking order of humanity is going to be upended.

Hannah's song.

4 The bow of the mighty is now broken, and those who stumbled are now strong. 5 Those who were well fed are now starving, and those who were starving are now full. The childless woman now has seven children, and the woman with many children wastes away. 6 The LORD gives both death and life; he brings some down to the grave but raises others up. 7 The LORD makes some poor and others rich; he brings some down and lifts others up. 8 He lifts the poor from the dust and the needy from the garbage dump. He sets them among princes, placing them in seats of honor. For all the earth is the LORD's, and he has set the world in order. (1Samuel 2:4-8, New Living Translation. Accessed through Blue Letter Bible.org)

Mary's song.

For the Mighty One is holy, and he has done great things for me. 50 He shows mercy from generation to generation to all who fear him. 51 His mighty arm has done tremendous things! He has scattered the proud and haughty ones. 52 He has brought down princes from their thrones and exalted the humble. 53 He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away with empty hands. (Luke 1:49-53, New Living Bible, accessed through Blue Letter Bible.org)

Mr. Rich Man had lived in luxury, and Lazarus lived in misery. Now their status has been reversed. Lazarus has exchanged his miserable life for bliss in paradise. Mr. Rich Man exchanged his luxury for misery in hell. Jesus' listeners would have expected this.

But now the Rich Man shows a bit of concern for someone other than himself. Surely this counts for something, right?

Well, maybe. But notice what happens even in these conversations from hell. The Rich Man continues to regard himself as privileged and the poor man as his natural servant. “Hey, Abraham, send Lazarus over here. Well, if he can't come here, send him to my brothers.” The rich man, in the very core of his being still sees Lazarus as the natural servant and himself as naturally deserving of whatever service Lazarus can provide.

Even in hell when everything has been stripped away, the rich man is still able to see beyond himself only with great difficulty and then only as far as other people in his own very limited circle. Even after the grand reversal he is completely unable to recognize the dignity, the nobility, the preciousness of the people who all this time have been invisible to him. He still cannot see them, even looking across the chasm into the exalted light of heaven.

So, should Abraham pay any attention to the rich man's request? Should Abraham send Lazarus back to warn the rich man's brothers?

Notice what happens next. Abraham does not address the worthiness of the man's request at all. Abraham doesn't discuss whether or not it would be fair to impose yet again on Lazarus.

Instead Abraham refuses to send Lazarus because it wouldn't do any good. Even if Lazarus rose from the dead, he would still be just Lazarus. Nobody. The brothers would not be able to hear a message from a nobody—even if that nobody had just risen from the dead.

“They have the voices of the prophets, the words of Scripture.” Abraham assured the rich man. “They have the instruction and wisdom they need.”

“No, no, no.” The rich man protested. “They won't read the Bible. They won't pay attention to that. But if someone rose from the dead . . . now, that would get their attention.”

Abraham shook his head. “It's no good. If they won't hear it from Moses, they won't hear from Lazarus.”

It's a sobering story.

Are there people in our lives that we just don't see? Are there human needs we could attend to . . . if we will just do it?

Don't wait. Don't develop a leather-hard heart.

All of us are rich in some way. We have something we can share. There are people whose lives can be touched with soothing water if we will pay attention. So pay attention.

There are people who will find new hope and maybe new life, if we share a bit of what we have—brains, money, social connections, the status of good looks, the power of influential friends. Let's ask God to help us see the Lazaruses in our lives, the people we can touch now with hope and help and healing.

This is what our holy book teaches. It is what Jesus modeled. It is God's plan for our lives and the lives of those around us.