Dives the Man Who Never Noticed

Dogs licked Lazarus’ sores, while Dives dined splendidly
Dives -- the Man Who Never Noticed

September 26, 2010, 26th Sunday of Ordinary Time
Amos 6:1a, 4-7 I Timothy 6:11-16 Luke 16:19-31

Thus says the LORD the God of hosts: Woe to you who have such an easy life in Zion! Woe to you who stretch out on your luxurious couches, feasting on veal and lamb! You like to compose songs, as David did, and play them on harps. You drink wine by the bowlful and use the finest perfumes, but you do not mourn over the ruin of Israel. So you will be the first to go into exile. Your feasts and banquets will come to an end.

The Word of the Lord
Thanks be to God.
Alleluia, Alleluia.

A reading from the holy Gospel according to Luke.
Glory to you, Lord.

Jesus said to the Pharisees: Once upon a time there was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen and ate splendidly each day. And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus who, full of sores, used to be brought to the rich man’s door, where he hoped to fill himself with the scraps that fell from the rich man's table. Dogs would come and lick his sores. When the poor man died, he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried, and his soul went into hell. There, in torment, he saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. And he cried out, “'Father Abraham, have pity on me. Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am suffering torment in these flames.”

Abraham replied, “My child, in your lifetime you had it good, and Lazarus had it bad. Now Lazarus is comforted, and you are in torment. Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established to prevent anyone from crossing who might wish to go from our side to yours or from your side to ours.” But the rich man said, “Then I beg you, Father, send him to my father's house, for I have five brothers, so that he may warn them lest they, too, come to this place of torment.” But Abraham replied, '”They have Moses and the prophets. Let them listen to them.” He responded, “Oh no, Father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.” Then Abraham replied, “If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.”

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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Introduction
Another great parable

The parables of the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son are among the greatest of Jesus’ parables. The parable about a rich man whom tradition calls Dives[1] and a poor beggar whom Scripture names Lazarus is another great parable.[2] All three are found only in Luke. In the Middle Ages the story of Lazarus was believed to be factual rather than a parable, and the Church venerated Lazarus (the beggar covered with sores) as the patron saint of lepers. North American slaves of the 19th century sang a spiritual about "Poor Man Lazarus."

Rich man died he lived so well…When he died he got a home in hell…
Poor man Lazarus poor as I …When he died he got a home on high…

Hammed-up readings

There’s a tendency to `ham-up’ the Parable of the Prodigal Son. (Lk 15:1-24)
A rebellious son is fed up with life in the parental house. He says to his father, “I’ve had it! I’m getting out of here! Give me the share of the inheritance that’s coming to me!” The parable can also be read quite calmly and unremarkably: “Dad, it’s about time I get out on my own; I’m no kid anymore. Could I please have the inheritance that falls to me?” Both versions do justice to the original Greek.

There’s a tendency also to `ham-up’ today’s parable of Dives and Lazarus. I recall a painting of the parable which hung in a pastor's office. It was compressed; everything was squeezed together. Only inches away from Dives’ scrumptious table was a wrought-iron gate where starving Lazarus was laid. Dogs were licking his sores. The poor man was in clear sight of the rich man, who was overweight and bedecked in a purple robe. Before him was spread a sumptuous table loaded down with platters piled high with veal chops, legs of lamb and chicken drumsticks. A huge fruit bowl overflowing with pomegranates, mangos and luscious grapes topped off the luscious sight. And there was Dives utterly indifferent to languishing Lazarus lying before him, as he feasted sumptuously.

So hammed-up, the parable bears little meaningful message for us. It, in fact, takes us off the hook; it has us saying, “Thank God that‘s not me. I could never be so gross.” It’s much more meaningful to give the parable a calm and unremarkable reading.

A remarkable indictment

We usually assume the two met; the text doesn't say they did. It’s possible they never met, and that nothing patently gross had ever transpired openly between them. Yet listen to the remarkable indictment that sends Lazarus up to the bosom of Abraham, and Dives down into hell: Father Abraham calls down to the rich man in flames saying, “My child, in your lifetime you had it good, and Lazarus had it bad. Now Lazarus is comforted, and you are in torment." (Lk 16: 25) That's all! Nothing gross is charged!

The rich man is not indicted because of something he did, but because of something he didn’t do. He is indicted not because he did something gross to the poor man, but because he didn't do something good to him. Dives is indicted not because he noticed Lazarus lying at his gate and ruthlessly passed him by. He’s indicted because he didn’t notice the starving beggar lying there, but he should have! William Barclay[3] titles this passage, "The Punishment of the Man Who Never Noticed."

The climate of Sexual moralism

The parable makes an important point: immorality is not only about some bad thing we do but also about some good thing we fail to do. After Vatican II, the new confession of sin at the beginning of Mass makes that point: “I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have sinned through my own fault, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do.”

The parable also makes the point that the heart and soul of Jesus’ morality does not focus around sex (as popular morality often implies); it focuses around compassion. It’s about noticing the suffering of another lying at one’s wrought-iron gate, and it’s about stopping to pour the oil of compassion upon him.

Cardinal Oscar Rodriquez Maradiaga of Honduras strongly criticized the US media’s treatment of the clergy sex abuse in the USA. In fiery language he compared it to the persecution of Christians under the emperors Nero and Diocletian, and under the dictators Hitler and Stalin. He was sharply criticized for being too reactionary and defensive, but he stuck to his guns. In an interview he made it clear that not for a moment did he question the sufferings of sex abuse victims or deny the failures of some bishops to intervene when they should have. But what he questioned was the emphasis. And then the Cardinal launched off into a whole lineup of beggars like Lazarus lying out there at our wrought-iron gate: the millions of people in the Third World who go hungry everyday; a whole generation of Africans being killed off by the AIDS pandemic; 1.2 billion people drinking polluted water; 12,000 Nike workers in Indonesia whose combined salary for a whole year doesn’t add up to what one basketball star gets for one endorsement.

For the Cardinal those issues are just as worthy of coverage, if not more worthy, than any sex scandal. The fact is, however, that such issues pale in a climate of sexual moralism. That’s a climate which sees sex as the height of all morality and the depth of all immorality.

That climate prevailed mightily when the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel for Sunday, May 23, 2002 exploded with a story about a spectacular `fall from grace.’ With a subtle bit of glee, the newspaper splashed its pages with a blow by blow description of a sex scandal involving a very famous prodigal son -- the Archbishop of Milwaukee, Rembert Weakland, OSB. That breaking news caused great moaning and groaning and gnashing of teeth. Here was a perfect example of the climate of sexual moralism at work, wielding its great power to scandalize us silly. When that sexy bit of scandal spread like a wild fire, and the Archbishop thought it was time to ask permission from the pope to retire, the Vatican responded with a thoroughly uncharacteristic speed. That, too, was the climate of sexual moralism at work, wielding its great power to get things done fast.

Not Jesus’ climate

We don’t find a climate of sexual moralism in any of Jesus’ parables or words. In fact, we find the opposite. When some teachers of the Law and Pharisees want to stone to death a woman caught in adultery, He challenges the one among them without sin to cast the first stone. (Jn 8:1-11) When some chief priests and Jewish elders question Jesus’ authority, He tells them that tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the Kingdom of God before them. (Mt 21:31-32) And when a woman with a bad reputation in town entered the house of Simon, a Pharisee, where Jesus was dining, and washed His feet with her tears, dried them with her hair and anointed them with perfume, Simon was scandalized that Jesus should let such a woman touch Him. Jesus laid an ax to Simon’s sexual moralism, saying, “I tell you, her great love proves that her many sins are forgiven her.” (Lk 7:36-47)

Compassion morality

Jesus’ morality doesn’t focus upon sex; it focuses upon compassion. To the Pharisees who fault him for eating with sinners, he quotes the prophet Hosea for them, “Oh, if you only knew the meaning of the scripture that says, `It is compassion I want from you people, and not your animal sacrifices.'" (Mt 9:13; Hosea 6:6; Mt 12:7; Hosea 6:6) And for the teacher of the Law who’s out to trap him, Jesus spells out morality in terms of compassion, in His great parable of the Good Samaritan: A man on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho was waylaid by robbers and left half-dead. Along came a Jewish priest, who saw the poor man but passed him by. Along came a Levite who also passed the poor man by. Then along came a Samaritan (despised by Jews as a half-breed and heretic) who stopped to pour the oil of compassion into the poor man's wounds, then hoisted him onto his beast of burden and hurried him off to the nearest inn, where he provided for his care and cure. (Lk 10:25-37) Jesus’ morality never focuses on sex but on compassion.

Conclusion
Costly morality

At the end of the day, our sexual moralism is distraction morality. By focusing inordinately upon a woman caught in adultery, or upon clerical sex abuse or upon an Archbishop’s `fall from grace,’ we are conveniently distracted from noticing Lazarus or Third World beggars lying down at our wrought-iron gates.

Our sexual moralism is also cheap morality. It doesn’t cost us a penny to point a finger at an adulterer or at an Archbishop `fallen from grace.’ It’s as easy as falling off a log. Compassion morality, on the other hand, is costly; it makes us notice the suffering of another, and it makes us stop to minister to it, when for various reasons we want to pass by like the priest and Levite. It’s true that when sexual moralism moves out and compassion morality rushes in to take its place, we won’t be able to feel self-righteous anymore, but we will be able to feel like that Good Samaritan who has been feeling good for centuries.


[1] The Latin word for rich is divis.
[2] Only two people are named Lazarus in the Bible. One is the brother of Martha and Mary, whom Jesus raised from the dead in Bethany, and the other is this poor beggar.
[3] William Barclay (1907- 1978) a Church of Scotland minister and Professor of Divinity and Biblical Criticism at the University of Glasgow.