Sermon on Matt 8:5-13 (7-2-2022)

It does not matter what people think of you. What other people think of me is none of my business, as it has been well said. Let us let go of our care about this and the anxiety that follows from it, and we will know a greater freedom.

A friend of mine recently shared with me a concept that I find helpful in thinking about this issue. Now, this friend is not a believer, but that doesn’t mean that there is no wisdom in what he says. I believe God, who is Wisdom, plants a seed of wisdom in every human heart. So what matters more than whether he believes is that God believes in him. More on that later.

For now, here is the concept:

Every person you meet, have a relationship with, or make eye contact with on the street imagines a version of you in their minds, based entirely on their own experiences and perceptions. So out there in the world, there are as many imaginary versions of you as there are people who have met you. When someone meets you, they have some thought about you – some image of you in their minds, be it good, bad, or indifferent, just as you have some thought about every person you meet. Hopefully we can understand that these perceptions are not the same as the truth of who a person is.

For example, I’m standing up here preaching, but out there in the congregation there are four or five dozen imaginary Father Johns – the one in each of your minds – and none of those imaginary people is really me. Just as my perceptions of you are not really the real you. Let’s let go of too much care for what others think of us and also let go of too much trust in our own perceptions.

 

Now surely it is true that some people know us better than other people do. Intimate relationship is possible. Father Sid Sidor used to say that intimacy means “into me see.”

Our perception of another moves closer to the truth of who they are the more we look on them with love. This is how the centurion looked upon his servant who was ill. We can see how he cares for him in how he intercedes for him. And Luke’s gospel tells us plainly that this slave was dear to the centurion. Of course, more profound than this and the most intimate relationship possible among human beings is holy matrimony. I say *holy* matrimony, which is loving and intimate. But even within marriage, we continue to learn about one another. Hopefully, every day we learn something new about our beloved. And this means that, even in marriage, we always have more to learn. There is always much that we do not know about the person to whom we are married. This isn’t a bad thing; it is an aspect of being human. Our capacity for knowing is always growing and always limited. We are finite. Only God is beginningless, uncreated, and omniscient.

Even though the centurion loved his slave and cared for him, he surely had more to learn about who he really was. Who knows? Had he truly known him, he may have not only sought his healing, but also freed him from his servitude.

I think we can take this concept even a step further. Not only do we imagine everyone else according to our perceptions and experiences, but we also even have an imagined self. There is who truly are, and there is who we think we are, and these two are not precisely the same.

There’s another thing we could let go of: our imagined self. This has gotten quite extreme in some quarters of our culture where many now seem to believe that they are whoever and whatever they feel like or decide to be.

Our true selves, on the contrary, are God-given. We are who God sees when he looks at us. He alone can see into me with perfect intimacy. He alone knows us better than we know ourselves. He who alone is perfect love alone can see us perfectly.

So if you have a care for what someone thinks of you, let that one be the one, the only one who knows you, the only one who loves you truly, the only one Lord and God.

Discard and set aside any worry about the thoughts or imaginations of anyone else about you. These have no substance. They are not truth. Some may flatter and some may scorn, but none of that is real.

The only thing real that we can give or receive to or from one another is love. Not flattery, but loving kindness. Not scorn, but loving guidance. When we act out of love, you see, we are being who we truly are, and we are becoming more like God, who is love.

Everything else that we think about one another or do to one another, (which sadly may be most of what we think and do,) is inauthentic, false, insubstantial, and to be disregarded. Let go of every unloving thought about others and at the same time have no regard for the unloving thoughts of others about you.

Observe the centurion. He is not a man interested in the opinions of other men. In the gospel of Luke, we hear that the Jewish elders regarded the centurion as worthy, because of his love for their people and because he had built a synagogue for them. But the centurion does not concern himself with what they think of him. He does not say to Jesus, “See! I am accounted worthy by other men, therefore do as I have asked.” Rather, he says to Jesus, “I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof.” In fact, he even makes bold to refuse the offer of Jesus himself. Jesus says, “I will come and heal him.” But the centurion does not boast, saying, “See! I am accounted worthy by the master.” No, he says, “I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my servant will be healed.”

But what matters most here is not how the centurion sees himself, even though it is good that he does not base that on the opinions of others. What matters most is how does Jesus see the centurion. And Jesus says that he is a man of great faith. Indeed, of greater faith than all in Israel.

This is who the centurion truly is. He is truly the one that our Lord God and Savior Jesus Christ sees when he looks at him. And you are truly the one that our Lord God and Savior Jesus Christ sees when he looks at you. That is the only perspective that counts and that is the perspective to which we seek to align our own by imitating Christ.

Unlike this centurion, the friend I mentioned earlier is not a believer (at least, that’s my perception! which doesn’t matter!). But the Lord has used him to inspire me today. The Lord has not abandoned him, or anyone. Pray for him and for all those who lack faith, that they grow in faith and that they come to know the Lord, who is the only one who knows them. One thing I firmly believe that the Lord sees when he looks at each and every one of us, even his enemies, is his beloved.

Christ is baptized!

And immediately after his baptism, he was led by the Spirit into the desert, where he was tempted by the devil. This is the gospel we heard yesterday (Matt 4:1-11). The 40-day fast of Jesus in the desert immediately after his baptism foreshadows for us the coming 40 day Great Fast before Pascha. The Great Fast before Pascha is also the Great Fast after Theophany. When Pascha is very early, the Triodion starts almost immediately. This year, however, we have endless days of feasting – well, until the end of February.

Jesus endures his fast in the desert in preparation for his ministry. Though he is perfect and unchangeable in his divinity (and so you might think he doesn’t need any preparation), in his perfect humanity, he does change and need preparation.  He grows in wisdom and in stature, as Luke tells us (2:52). In the desert, Jesus experiences hunger, which is very human thing to experience. He fasts and then he is hungry (Matt 4:2). And he is tempted by the devil to eat bread.

Fasting weakens us. At first, it makes us more susceptible to temptations, not less. Anyone who has made a strenuous effort at the Great Fast knows it has a tendency to produce irritability, short tempers, and the easy formation of resentments. This is why some of the fathers point out to us that it does no good to fast from meat if we were only going to turn around and bite the backs of our brothers and sisters.

Fasting also weakens Jesus. Here is God in the wilderness weakened in his humanity and hungry.

But we submit to this time of weakening as a necessary training. It’s a bit like when an athlete undergoes a strenuous workout. You know that when you lift a lot of heavy weights it actually, in the short-term, weakens you. That same day, you’re wiped out. The very fibers of your muscles are torn apart by the effort. However, they respond to this by healing over time and coming back with greater strength so that, next time, they can lift that weight more easily.

The same is true of the spiritual effort of fasting and other ascetic labors. They train us in self-denial. Then when we’re tempted to do things that really are evil, unlike eating food, which is not evil, we have the strength to resist – like Jesus resisted his temptations in the desert – because we’ve practiced not giving into our desires. Habit is a powerful thing. And we’re going to need good habits and great strength because greater temptations are coming to us then we have so far experienced.

The same thing is true in the human life of Jesus Christ. He comes out of the desert, which he entered to be tempted and strengthened in his humanity, only to walk straight into adversity. Today, we hear in the holy gospel that, immediately after he rebukes the devil in the desert, he hears that John has been arrested (Matt 4:12). John, his Forerunner and his Baptist, the servant to whom he had bowed his head and from whom he had received baptism only 40 days or so before.

This arrest bodes poorly for Jesus, you understand. He and John were publicly affiliated with each other. The authorities that had arrested John would likely be coming for Jesus next. This is one of those adversities for which Jesus trained in the desert. This is a moment of spiritual discernment by our Lord. He has a decision to make, and in making it he must not be rattled by difficult circumstances.

He could rail against those authorities that have arrested John and heroically be arrested with him. He could witness to the gospel by bravely facing the false accusers right away. But Jesus is able to respond to the adversity dispassionately and with wisdom. He knows that first the gospel must be preached to the people before he is given up, or rather freely lays down his life for us.

First, he must preach. For our faith, as Paul will teach us, comes by hearing – and hearing the preaching of Christ (Rome 10:17). If the word was not preached, it would not be heard, and we would have no faith. So, Jesus does not stand at this time and rail against the wicked persecutors of John. Rather, at this time, he withdraws into Galilee and leaves Nazareth and goes and dwells in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali.

By this example he teaches us, St John Chrysostom says, that “it is not blameworthy not to throw oneself into peril.” This was shown to us also when Jesus was a baby. When Herod ordered the slaughter of the Holy Innocents in his effort to destroy the Christ Child, Joseph is warned by an angel in a dream and the Holy Family flees into Egypt (Matt 2:13).

Knowing of coming peril and destruction, it is at times good for us to withdraw for a time. This is not to say that we are to be cowards. Far from it. Jesus embraces the cross and commands us to do the same. We are to be courageous, but not necessarily foolish. (Though perhaps some of us are called to other kinds of foolishness – to the ascesis of folly – to be fools for Christ’s sake). But Jesus is no fool. He reserves his passion for a better time. It is necessary, as I say, for him to preach the gospel first.

It is interesting to note, as Matthew does, where this adversity sends him and where he consequently first preaches the gospel. To the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali. It will help to know something about this place. Where are Zebulun and Naphtali? Or, maybe, who are Zebulun and Naphtali? Well, first of all, they were two sons of Jacob, according to the Book of Genesis. They are two fathers of two of the 12 tribes of Israel. The tribes of Zebulun and Naphtali settled in the North. It was here that the Jews experienced their first captivity by the Assyrians. It was here that they first forgot the Torah and descended into idolatry.

When Isaiah describes them as a people who sat in darkness, it helps to have some understanding of what he’s talking about (Isaiah 9:2). These are the people who have forgotten the Lord – and it is to them that the Lord comes. For those who sat in the region and shadow of death, light as dawned (Matt 4:16). That light is Jesus Christ and his preaching of the gospel.

Isn’t this remarkable? Those who first forgot the Lord and abandoned his law and turned to other gods – it is to them that he first of all comes! It is among them that he first preaches! We are never abandoned by the Lord, even if we have abandoned him. Very much to the contrary, he comes to seek out and save those who are lost, confused, mired in sin, and idolatrous. Us, in other words. The beautiful shepherd leaves behind the 99 sheep on the mountain to go and find the one who has gone astray (Matt 18:12).

And listen to the first word he preaches to them and to us, the first word he preaches ever to anybody: “Repent! For the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matt. 4:17).

This is the good news! His first words are not, “Repent or go to hell!” even though the impenitent are indeed the damned. But Jesus is calling us into his kingdom. He is calling us into life, not just away from death. He is calling us to, not from. He is attracting us to himself, not repelling us from others. Repentance is movement toward our good and loving God and life in his kingdom, which does result in moving away from sin and death and hell. But the only way to do that effectively is to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus.

I recently learned that, in the gospels, οὐρανός – the word for heaven – occurs 284 times. βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ (kingdom of God) occurs an additional 54 times. Meanwhile, the words for hell, γέεννα occurs only 12 times and ᾅδης occurs 11 times. It’s clear where the emphasis is here. Heaven isn’t just a way out of hell – it’s the whole point of life – it’s growing union with our good and loving God.

on Mark 1:1-8

According to Mark, this is the beginning of the Gospel

Mark tells us that the gospel begins with baptism, and with the baptism of Jesus Christ. Matthew and Luke, however, begin their gospels with an infancy narrative, which is a good thing for us, or else we might not have had Christmas this past week. But Mark begins with the baptism, which we will celebrate this coming week with the Feast of Theophany.

It’s striking to me that we have both of these moments put forth as beginnings. It’s not like Matthew or Luke were writing prequels.

(That’s a different book, called the Protoevangelium of James, which really is like a prequel to the Gospels. It tells the story of what happened before the Gospels).

But Matthew and Luke on the one hand and Mark on the other are writing Gospels and they see fit to begin their Gospels in different places. With nativity on the one hand and with baptism on the other.

This difference is mirrored by some liturgical history. The early Church already sees a variety of rituals and calendars from one particular Church to another. In the fourth century, and possibly before, the Church in Constantinople, where our Byzantine tradition began, as well as the Church in Antioch and in Alexandria, did not celebrate two Feasts as we do today – the one of the Nativity and then also the one of the Baptism. Rather, they celebrated one great feast of Theophany on January 6th. And this feast was already a celebration of Jesus’s baptism but it was at that time also a celebration of his Nativity. So we had Christmas and Theophany at the same time in those days. Our emphasis on January 6th however was always more so on the baptism, just like the beginning of Mark.

The Church in Jerusalem also celebrated on January 6^th. However, they emphasized the birth of Jesus Christ on this date. This was, as I say, a time of variety in church calendars. One Church might emphasize one thing while another Church emphasizes something else. This is also the way the Church is today. The Church has not changed in this respect, despite the notion of some that we should be homogeneous and monolithic, we are not and we never have been.

Meanwhile, the Church in Rome had associated the birth of Christ with December 25th, by a means which I described recently. And so, in the West, they were celebrating the Nativity of Jesus Christ on December 25^th, not January 6^th.

Later, in the fifth century, the Church in Jerusalem decided they quite liked the Roman idea and gave it a try. But it didn’t quite take at first. Only in the sixth century, did the idea of Christmas on December 25th take hold in Constantinople and all the Eastern Churches. But we weren’t going to give up our January 6th celebration and so now we have both and we emphasize the Nativity on December 25th, as the Roman Church did from very nearly the beginning, and we emphasize the baptism of Christ on January 6th, as we did from very nearly the beginning.

But do you see the parallel with the gospels?

Matthew and Luke begin their gospels with the Nativity of Jesus Christ. The western Church in the first centuries likewise always emphasized the nativity.

Mark, on the other hand, does not even mention the nativity but skips right on to the baptism of Christ. And the Eastern Churches in the first centuries likewise emphasized the baptism of Christ.

What both the Church in the East and the Church in the West were doing was proclaiming the Gospel. Just as Matthew and Luke were proclaiming the gospel in their own way. And Mark was proclaiming the Gospel in his own way. So also the Eastern and Western churches were each proclaiming the gospel in their own ways.

Remember, Mark says that the baptism is the beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and so it is. He knows what he’s talking about. He is an inspired evangelist no less so than Matthew and Luke. But that doesn’t mean that the Nativity isn’t also the beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. There is more than one way to say the same thing.

Both the Feast of the Nativity and the Feast of the Baptism are Theophanies. Great feasts were not originally intended primarily as historical commemorations or anniversaries. Rather, the primary purpose was (and really still is) theological. We are celebrating theological realities. And the theological reality we celebrate with this double Feast – this duplicated Feast of nativity and baptism – is theophany.

Theophany is the appearance of God among us. A theophany is a personal encounter with God. An experience of God making himself present in an observable way even to our senses.

Both the Nativity of Jesus I his baptism, are key moments of this Theophany.

He was born of a virgin and his birth was heralded by angels and by a star, revealing his divinity to the Shepherds and to the Magi. Joseph and Mary experienced God in the cave in Bethlehem.

In the Jordan, Christ is revealed as the Divine Son of God the Father by the power of the Holy Spirit, who descends upon him in the form of a dove. And worship of the Trinity is revealed. John the Forerunner experiences God in the water of the Jordan

Both the nativity and the baptism of Jesus Christ express his theophany to us. Both are the gospel.

There’s more than one way to preach the gospel. Remember that at Pentecost the apostles began to speak in many tongues. The Lord did not reverse what happened at the Tower of Babel and make it so that once again all humans speak one language. Rather, he made it so that the gospel would be preached in all languages. Rather than making the church or the world homogeneous and monolithic, he made the gospel polyglottal.

I love that there are four Gospels. Not one. I love that there are four witnesses. I even love the points where they seem to contradict each other, because it underlines so clearly the honesty of their testimony. No two eyewitnesses ever report every detail exactly the same. If they do, you can bet they’re over-rehearsed lies, rather than genuine testimony.

In the second century, Tatian didn’t care for this and so he compiled his Diatessaron, which is a harmonization of the four gospel narratives into one. Where there are differences of detail, he chooses one. But thank God the Church did not accept his Diatessaron as our gospel book. Rather, we keep the four distinct Gospels with all their distinctiveness.

And this is an image of the Church itself. The Church is made up of many particular Churches each with their own tradition: canonical, spiritual, liturgical, theological. And this variety is a good thing. It’s inspired by the Holy Spirit. Just like the many tongues given to the apostles on Pentecost. And like the four distinct gospels. And like the two theophanies of nativity & baptism.

Christ is born!

It is fitting that we celebrate holy Chrismation during this Christmas season. You can even hear that the words are related: Christmas & Chrismation & Christ. The word Christ means “Anointed One” and to be chrismated is to be anointed with the holy chrism – continuing our initiation into Christ, which is completed by receiving his holy body and blood. We welcome Julian & William & Dominic into Christ in this way by the seal of the gift of the Holy Spirit and we celebrate with them even as we continue to celebrate Christmas.

And yet, as the gospel we just heard makes plain, it seems the joy of our feasting is always tinged with a bit of sorrow. There’s always a bit of bitter mixed in the with the sweet – like a clove of garlic dipped in honey at our holy supper on Christmas Eve – or like the chrin we make for our baskets on Pascha – horseradish with beets with a bit of sugar. When St. Nicholas visits in some cultures he always leaves both goodies and a switch – because no child can be reduced to either naughty or nice – every child is good and yet also inclined to some evil. I think we can relate to these symbols, which express the paradox of our condition.

God does not force us to stop hurting each other or ourselves, but out of the evil we bring into the world by our sin, he brings a greater good – like actually a greater good. Our attempts to do harm not only fail, they fail spectacularly. There is often harm caused in the immediate, but never in the ultimate.

For example, the greatest evil anyone ever tried to do, I believe, was kill Jesus. Herod tried to kill him, as we heard today, and failed. Later, others would succeed. But out of that murder, death itself is defeated – the cross becomes the tree of life. God’s good will is always done in the end.

It’s pointless to keep sinning – which really is trying to be what we are not and to do what we are not made to do. So let’s knock it off, shall we? And submit ourselves to the good Lord. “That this whole day be perfect, holy, peaceful, and without sin, let us beseech the Lord.”

As we pray at the Lamp-lighting Psalms of Vespers, “the wicked fall into the traps they have set.” Our sinful designs cannot succeed against the designs of God. The very effort we use in sinning, God turns toward some good. “If the Lord does not build the house, in vain do its builders labor.” Allowing our vain and pointless efforts to unmake the goodness he has created for us, he uses these efforts instead and even against our vain, sinful, and corrupted wills, to build his kingdom. Though we suffer and cause others to suffer, through our suffering, he brings healing. Though we die, in Christ we live forever.

And so, while we yet feast and celebrate, we remember that the struggle is not done. The light of Christ is shining – but he is shining in the darkness – like the star shining over Bethlehem in the night.

Today we hear of sorrow coming quickly on the heels of joy. Joy came to the holy family by the birth of their new baby, who is our Lord and God and Savior, Jesus Christ. But Herod does not share their joy. He does not rejoice at the news that the true king of Israel is born. And so, vainly, he tries to do him in – by ordering the indiscriminate massacre of the babies in those environs. These are holy innocents whom we will commemorate on Wednesday. This tragedy is a sign – pointing back to Moses, through whom God delivered Israel, and forward to our deliverance from sin and death in Christ.

Of course Herod’s efforts are vain. Of course he fails. Sin is always vain. Sin always fails. When it seems that sin holds sway, be patient. It will fail. In this case, our Father did not mean for his Son to die in this way or at this time and so an angel visits Joseph in a dream to warn him to escape into Egypt. Another Joseph once narrowly escaped murder by being forced into Egypt – Joseph, the son of Jacob. These things are all connected – both to what has gone before and to what is yet to come.

Our Lord’s incarnation, his conception, his birth, his baptism, his ministry all point toward his ultimate sacrifice, death, and resurrection for our salvation. The sacrifice of the holy innocents in the gospel today points to this – to the kind of death he would die. He is hunted and despised by some of his own people from the moment of his birth. Already the prophetic gifts of the Magi pointed to this also – Gold was for the King, frankincense for the Priest. Myrrh, however, was used to anoint the dead and so signifies that this little child was not only the priest but also the sacrifice.

The icon of our Lady of Perpetual Help, which we have over here, and which venerate in our annual pilgrimage to Uniontown, beautifully illustrates the infant Christ’s premonition of his passion as angels display to him the cross and the instruments of his torture and death. He clutches his mother’s hand for comfort.

Even the date of Christmas, in a labyrinthine way, is connected to the passion of Christ. There was a common belief in the early Church that Jesus was conceived and died on the same date – which is one reason we make such a big deal now when the Annuciation falls on Good Friday. The date of Jesus’ death, about which the gospels give much more information than his birth, was worked out by some to be March 25^th, therefore this was reckoned to be also the date of his conception, therefore his nativity was reckoned nine months later: December 25^th – this is one of the theories anyway, that the date for this festival of Christ’s birth is actually derived from the date of his death. The connection between his birth and death was keenly understood. Christ’s conception and his birth come with the promise of our salvation through his death and resurrection.

And so we reflect on this, even as we continue to celebrate his birth. He was not born into a world without pain and he did not choose to simply erase our pain, but to enter into it himself, to join us in it, even to use it as a means of sanctification.

I know many families in our parish are suffering this Christmas – we have been afflicted by several deaths and hospitalizations this week – and so we can relate to this experience of the bitter mixed in with the sweet. We can join the Christ Child and his holy family in their hardships.

St. John Chrysostom writes about today’s gospel, “Even as He came in swaddling clothes we see a tyrant raging, a flight ensuing and a departure beyond the border. For it was because of no crime that his family was exiled into the land of Egypt. So do not be troubled if you are suffering countless dangers. Do not expect to be celebrated or crowned promptly for your troubles. Instead, you may keep in mind the long-suffering example of the mother of the Child, bearing all things nobly, knowing that such a fugitive life is consistent with the ordering of spiritual things. You are sharing the kind of labor Mary herself shared. So did the Magi. They both were willing to retire secretly in the humiliating role of fugitive.”

In Christ, God is now inside our troubles and our pain and our sacrifice. God is with us, understand all you nations, and submit yourselves for God is with us.

Sermon on Luke 16:19-31

A lot of fire and brimstone preaching I’ve heard in my life seems to me to betray a hypocritical hope for the damnation of our enemies rather than doing what it should do and serving as a warning to us in the hope of salvation. While Jesus does preach about the fire in Hades, we need to remember that he does not desire the death of sinners but rather that they repent and live (cf. Ezekiel 33:11). Life is salvation and it is death that we are being saved from (cf. Rom 6:23). Like God, let us desire life for all sinners – for our friends and for strangers, for our enemies and for ourselves.

Jesus does use the image of flame, as I say, to describe the anguish and torment of the rich man in Hades after he dies (Luke 16:24). So, the fire and brimstone preaching comes from somewhere. But let’s look at the whole context surrounding this image.

The rich man, tormented in Hades, sees Abraham far off and calls out to him, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me…, for I am in anguish in this flame” (Luke 16:24). Already take note that even though the rich man and Abraham are separated by a chasm, they’re still close enough to see and hear each other. They’re in the same vicinity, but having a different experience. The rich man’s experience is agony in flame, while Abraham’s is the light of God. St. Maximus the Confessor writes “The Word of God is light, which illumines the minds of the faithful” [like Abraham] “but at the same time, it is also the fire of judgment, which consumes those, who… abide in the night-darkness of this life” [like the rich man].[i] So both Abraham and the rich man are experiencing the same God, but the one who rejects him is experiencing him as agonizing flame.

Note too that it is not Jesus, as the narrator of this parable, who tells us about this flame, but the rich man who describes his own experience this way. It’s his own experience of God that is agonizing to him.

Abraham hears and answers the rich man. And first of all, he calls him “son” (16:25). I think it’s worthy of some note that Abraham still thinks of the rich man as his son, despite all his waste and neglect of the poor beggar Lazarus. The rich man, despite his evil-doing, is not so cut off as to have lost all relationship.

We are relational beings. That’s one of the ways in which we are images of God. God is a Trinity of Persons in relationship with one another and we are also persons in relationship with other persons and with God. We are relational by our very nature and that is indestructible. Even in hell, we remain relational. The image of God doesn’t go away. We are made in the image of God and after his likeness. No matter what, we remain in his image, though we can grow or diminish in our likeness to God, depending on how we live. The rich man in the fires of Hades is still an image of God. Somehow, Abraham is still his father and he is still Abraham’s son. That’s the first thing Abraham has to say, but it certainly isn’t the last.

He was responding to the rich man begging for was a drop of water from the end of Lazarus’s finger to cool his tongue (16:24). Seems like a small request. He didn’t say, “Get me out of here!” He didn’t beg to be delivered from the flame that tormented him. He only begged for a droplet of water. Surely this would not be too much to ask. But it would be a good thing – very like the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table, which he denied to Lazarus who desired them (16:21). And note how the rich man thinks it’s Lazarus who should wait on him, as if Lazarus is his servant. We can see in this his persistent impenitence. If he had instead offered to serve Lazarus, I wonder if he could have heard a different answer. As it is, Abraham reminds the rich man that he has already received his good things and shows him the great chasm between them over which none may cross (16:25-26). I think this chasm is created by the rich man’s impenitence. Abraham speaks the truth about it even though it is a hard truth, but he speaks the truth in love – not in vindictiveness. Remember, he calls the rich man his son.

So, yes, if we are like Christ we will issue the warning of the real possibility of damnation and fire, but, like Abraham, we will issue this warning out of love and truth, not out of some secret desire to cause the wicked to suffer. Very much to the contrary, Abraham doesn’t want the rich man to suffer but rather reveals to the rich man how he is simply suffering the result of his own actions (16:25). This is what happens when we die.

What happens when we die? And then what happens at the end – at the end of all things? These are important questions. Maybe some of the most important questions. This parable does give us a rare glimpse into what happens after death. Though, when studied deeply, I think the parable of the rich man and Lazarus doesn’t so much provide concrete answers as invite contemplation of the mystery of death – so that we might prepare ourselves for it. This is about how we might live now in preparation for death and what comes after.

First of all, by not only taking the opportunities that come our way but also by seeking out opportunities to give food to the hungry and drink to the thirsty, to welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit the imprisoned (cf. Matt 25:31-46). Notice Lazarus is most of these things: hungry, thirsty, and sick. So the opportunity to provide for these needs was always lying at the rich man’s gate, but he squanders that opportunity again and again. On the other hand, Abraham, who, by the way, was also a very rich man, did well at caring for these things. There are two rich men in this parable, but Abraham acts in just the opposite way. Remember the hospitality of Abraham to the three strange men who came near his tent.

“He ran from the tent door to meet them.” The rich man wouldn’t have even had to do that, for Lazarus was lying at his gate, but Abraham sought out the opportunity to show hospitality and ran out to meet them and he “bowed himself to the earth” before them. You can see how eager he was to serve them – grateful for the opportunity to show hospitality, knowing that doing so is also his own salvation.  He calls himself a “servant” to these strangers and says, “Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree, while I fetch a morsel of bread, that you may refresh yourselves.” And here is what Abraham meant by a “morsel of bread”: he “hastened into the tent to Sarah, and said, Make ready quickly three measures of fine meal, knead it, and make cakes.” So, a bit more than a morsel of bread. “And [he] ran to the herd, and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to the servant, who hastened to prepare it. Then he took curds, and milk, and the calf which he had prepared, and set it before them; and he stood by them under the tree while they ate.” (Gen. 18:2-8). He stood while they ate! He didn’t even join them, but stood by like a waiter ready to attend to any detail of hospitality.

Live like this, like Abraham and not like the nameless rich man of Christ’s parable. That rich man stands before us as a warning. But show compassion to all others, whether they are just or unjust, even as Abraham addresses even the rich man with the warmth of the name, ‘son,’ do not cut off from hope and loving solicitude even those who cut off themselves. Maybe, if we speak the truth in love to them (Eph 4:15), rather than cursing them to hell, they will be stirred to repentance and join us in paradise.

 

[i] Maximus the Confessor, Questions to Thalassium, 39, 3: PG 90, 392.