Encountering Lazarus

 

*For three consecutive Sundays, we always have the so-called "Lazarus Basket" by the Cross once we read the Parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man. For those who are new to the parish, perhaps this older meditation may be helpful in explaining the meaning and purpose of that basket.

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

I would like to present a point that I made somewhat forcefully in last Sunday's homily. We heard the Parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man (LK. 16:19-31). A wonderful parable, indeed, but a frightening one as Christ describes the torments of Hades/Hell for those who refuse to practice charity in this life. The "rich man" dressed well and ate well, according to the parable (16:19). But yet he ignored Lazarus who lay outside his gate (on a daily basis?). Lazarus, of course, was not only poor, but he was "full of sores," and seemingly at a near-starvation level, because he would have been content with whatever "fell from the rich man's table" (16:20-21). 

Upon their respective deaths, there was a staggering "reversal of fortune." Lazarus "was carried by the angels to Abraham's bosom" (16:22); but the nameless (not an insignificant detail) rich man was delivered to Hades, the shadowy realm of death where the presence of God cannot be enjoyed. Conscious and tormented by his condition, and reminded by the Lord that his indifference to Lazarus put him there: "Son, remember that you in your lifetime received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things" (16:25), the rich man languishes in agony and regret. And it is too late to repent so that he can come over to the bosom of Abraham, a clear image of paradise: "between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, in order that those who would pass from here to you may not be able, and none may cross from there to us." (16: 26)

It is difficult to determine just how much in a parable can be applied in a doctrinal manner to the mystery of the judgment and the world to come; but nevertheless this parable should have our undivided attention when it comes to our charitable side when contemplating our impending judgment. (There is, of course, the Parable of the Last Judgment in MATT. 25:31-46, read right before the beginnng of Great Lent). We may read the parable as a warning or as an encouragement, but the lesson remains the same. A lack of charity among those who have the means to practice it, reveals an indifference that leaves one unprepared for the joy of God's presence in the age to come.

We hardly encounter a Lazarus type in our everyday lives. We are protected from such encounters. The appeal to our charitable side comes through less direct sources - the mail, audio communication, word-of-mouth, but also in our churches. We periodically have collections for the poor and needy, for victims of natural disasters and the like. This appeal is usually in the form of a basket that is placed by the Cross, so that after the Liturgy, we may come forward, kiss the Cross, and place our contribution in the basket. 

Here, then, is how I see this parable being actualized - made present - in our own lives, at least periodically. The basket, or basket-holder, represents Lazarus, and each one of us represents the rich man. When we go by the basket, we go right past Lazarus. Do we stop and attend to the needs of Lazarus, or do we pass him by as did the rich man? The description of being "rich" is quite relative, for we are all well-clothed and well-fed as was the rich man. We can always put "something' in the basket (beyond what would honestly be deemed a mere token gesture). The right question, therefore, is not: "Can I afford to put something in the basket?" It is: "Can I afford not to put something in the basket in the light of Christ's parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man?" Or, is it possible to kiss the Cross of our Savior, and then walk right by "Lazarus?" Such a thought should strike our conscience, open our hearts - and then our pockets or purses.

We can hardly respond to every appeal that comes our way. We have to make choices based on some discernment. I am raising the point of enjoying our Lord's hospitality toward us in the Eucharistic liturgy, because He made Himself poor so that we could be made rich in Christ Jesus (II COR. 8:9) - a saving event actualized whenever we celebrate the Liturgy. Lazarus can be in our midst also, in one form or another. It may take some sympathetic imagination to "see" him in a mere basket by the Cross, but hopefully the parable will convince us that the way of the rich man is not consistent with the gifts of God that we enjoy in such abundance.

A Radical Critique of Selfishness - Lazarus and the Rich Man

 

Icon of the parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man

Dear Parish Faithful,


“And as for what fell among the thorns, they are those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature.” (LK. 8:14)

There is an interior connection between the Parable of the Sower and the Parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man (LK. 16:19-31), heard yesterday at the Divine Liturgy. For the “rich man” of the parable is the embodiment of a person who has been “choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life,” as described in the Parable of the Sower. Brushing aside the teaching of the Torah, and the Jewish emphasis on charity as one of the great acts of true piety, the rich man remained coldly indifferent to poor Lazarus who was clearly visible at his very gate. Preoccupied with fine linen and sumptuous feasting (v. 19), the rich man was scarcely prepared in his heart to alleviate the sufferings of Lazarus, sufferings that were exemplified by the dogs that licked his sores (v. 20). Such indifference is frightening when seen in the light of the many scriptural admonitions that either chastise the neglect of the poor: “He who closes his ear to the cry of the poor will himself cry out and not be heard;” or encourage his care: “He who is kind to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will repay him for his deed.” (PROV. 21:13; 19:17)

And the severity of the consequences of such neglect of the poor is vividly described in the parable’s “reversal of fortune,” with the rich man languishing in hades, unable to be relieved of his torment there. The contrast of his fate and that of Lazarus being carried into the “bosom of Abraham” by a heavenly escort is striking. (v. 22-23) 

The Parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man was delivered with the Pharisees in mind, for right before Jesus proclaimed the parable, we hear this unflattering description of the Pharisees:  “The Pharisees who were lovers of money, heard all this, and they scoffed at him. But he said to them, ‘You are those who justify yourselves before men, but God knows your hearts; for what is exalted among men is an abomination in the sight of God’.” (LK. 16:14-15) Whatever or whoever may have prompted the words of the Lord during his ministry, our concern now is with our own attitude and treatment of the poor. To think or believe otherwise is to fail to “hear” the parable as it is proclaimed today for our chastisement or encouragement. The words of the Lord – the “Gospel truth” – cannot be properly assessed within the narrow limits of any political allegiances – Democrat or Republican; nor even of a wider-scoped ideology – liberal or conservative. The Gospel transcends these categories as something far greater and infinitely more demanding of our allegiance. 

At a time when neither political parties nor even political ideologies existed or had any real impact on the prevailing cultural or social assumptions of the time, St. John Chrysostom (+407) delivered a series of brilliant homilies on the Parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man. (These seven homilies now exist in English translation under the title on Wealth and Poverty). With his impressive knowledge of the Scriptures; his unmatched rhetorical skills; but most importantly his profound zeal for the moral and ethical teaching of the Gospel; St. John offered a radical critique of selfishness and a radical exhortation to overcome such selfishness for the sake of the poor. Challenging conventional notions of what theft is, he famously expanded its definition by meditating deeply on the parable at hand:

I shall bring you testimony from the divine Scriptures, saying that not only the theft of others’ goods but also the failure to share one’s own goods with others is theft and swindle and defraudation. What is this testimony? Accusing the Jews by the prophet, God says, ‘The earth has brought forth her increase, and you have not brought forth your tithes; but the theft of the poor is in your houses.’ (MAL. 3:8-10) Since you have not given the accustomed offering, He says, you have stolen the goods of the poor. He says this to show the rich that they hold the goods of the poor even if they have inherited them from their fathers or no matter how they have gathered their wealth. And elsewhere the Scripture says, ‘Deprive not the poor of his living.’ (SIR. 4:1) To deprive is to take what belongs to another; for it is called deprivation when we take and keep what belongs to others. By this we are taught that when we do not show mercy, we will be punished just like those who steal. For our money is the Lord’s, however we may have gathered it. If we provide for those in need, we shall obtain great plenty. This is why God has allowed you to have more; not for you to waste on prostitutes, drink, food, expensive clothes, and all the other kinds of indulgence, but for you to distribute to those in need … If you are affluent, but spend more than you need, you will give an account of the funds which were entrusted to you … For you have obtained more than others have, and you have received it, not to spend it for yourself, but to become a good steward for others as well. (On Wealth and Poverty, homily two)

This is a radical teaching, though again not based on any particular social or political philosophy. For St. John the “true philosophy” was adherence to the Gospel. St. John is primarily concerned with uncovering the meaning and implications of what we discover in the Scriptures. If that is challenging to the point of seeming “impossible’” or of least taking us way out of our “comfort zones,” then rather than “soft-pedaling” the Gospel message, St. John would continue in the hope of inspiring us to strengthen our efforts and to put on “the mind of Christ.”

 

St Isaac of Syria on Human Nature, Death, and the Resurrection

 

Dear Parish Faithful, In a recent meditation, I referenced the Apostle Paul's tripartite understanding of human nature as consisting of spirit (pneuma), soul (psyche) and body (soma), as found in I Thess. 5:23. Many of the Church Fathers would echo this terminology of the Apostle Paul; while others would speak of only soul and body as encompassing human nature, with the spirit as the highest aspect of the soul. And, often, the later spiritual tradition would use the term nous to refer to the spirit, translating nous as "mind," but much more successfully as "spiritual intellect." When these levels of our human nature are harmoniously directed to the pursuit of virtue and the Kingdom of God, then the fulness of our nature is realized, so that our creation "in the image and likeness of God" shines forth to the glory of God. Be that as it may, there is a real fulness to our human nature, but also a certain complexity! But, again, this reveals that a human being is "more than meets the eye."  With this in mind, I recently came across a passage from the writings of St. Isaac the Syrian, the great ascetic and spiritual teacher from the Syriac tradition. His terms in describing human nature are derived from his native Syriac language, but they are closely related to the Greek language terms that he knew from reading such exponents of the ascetical/spiritual tradition as Evagrius of Pontus (+399), for example. Here, then, is a short but revealing passage from St. Isaac as he "prioritizes" the harmonious working of the spirit in directing our entire being toward God. Of great interest, is how St. Isaac relates this to faith in the resurrection: "The person who in his understanding is on the level of the body cannot be above fear of death in his thoughts; rather, he is continually terrified at the recollection of it. Because he is on the level of the body he thinks of the things of the body. Therefore there is always in him some doubt about the resurrection. "In the person who is on the level of the soul there vibrates a fear of soul. He does not think of the things belonging to the body - its death, affliction, or its welfare and misfortunes. Rather, he readily accepts these for the sake of what is to come, seeing that he is in truth endowed with reason. But he only possesses the level of the soul, which consists in continual reflection of what pertains to the resurrection from the dead. "As for the person who is on the level of the spirit, neither of these other descriptions is applicable: rather he stands in the knowledge and joy which is in God, seeing that he has become a child and sharer in the mystery of God." More than a little bit to mediate on!

The Thundering Message

Dear Parish Faithful & Friends in Christ,

We recently heard the powerful account of Jesus raising from the dead the widow's son at Nain (LK. 7:11-16). This particular event is unique to St. Luke's Gospel. In his Commentary on the Gospel According to St. Luke, the biblical scholar Carroll Stuhlmueller, summarized the over-all impression left by this extraordinary event in the following manner:

This incident, only in Luke, shows the Evangelist's special delight in portraying Jesus not only overwhelmed with pity at the sight of tragedy but also turning with kindly regard toward women (cf. 7:36-50; 10:38-42) ... This narrative possesses the charm, color, and pathos of an excellent story: two large crowds meet, approaching from different directions; the silence with which Jesus touches the bier and stops the funeral procession; the thundering message, calmly spoken, bringing the dead back to life. (The Jerome Biblical Commentary)

 

Truly, it is nothing less than a "thundering message" when Jesus said: "Young man, I say to you arise!" (LK. 7:14). And when the young man "sat up and began to speak" we should be able to understand, however dimly, the reaction of the crowd: "Fear seized them all; and they glorified God" (7:16). The pathos of this story is further increased by the fact that the young man was "the only son of his mother, and she was a widow" (7:12). There was no existing social safety net within first century Israel that would provide support for this woman. Without a son who could help provide for her, this widow would have been totally dependent upon the good will and the charity of her neighbors in the small village that Nain was known to have been. Hence, the power of the simple statement that accompanies the young man's restoration to life:  "And he gave him to his mother" (7:15). What a reunion that must have been! 

Now St. Luke makes it clear just who it was who encountered this funeral procession and dramatically brought it to a halt:  "And when the Lord who saw her he had compassion on her" (7:13). It was "the Lord." This was the first of many times throughout his Gospel that the Evangelist Luke will use this exalted title for Jesus. The Greek ho Kyrios — the Lord — is the translation found in the Septuagint of the divine name Yahweh. Ascribed to Jesus in the New Testament, this title reveals that as the Lord, Jesus has power over both life and death. Anticipating his own resurrection from the dead, the Lord Jesus Christ brings this young man back to life, revealing that even death is not beyond His authority and capacity to give life.

We are not told how this young man died. In our contemporary world, death can be more-or-less defined in a clinical manner. The shift in this clinical definition has moved toward a final determination of "brain death." Be it the cessation of breath, permanent "cardiac arrest," or the brain death just mentioned, we can identify death and its effect on our biological organism. And so could anyone in the ancient world, where death was such a more immediate and "up close" reality compared to the rather antiseptic experience of death that we promote today in a attempt to distance the living from the dying as well as that is possible. But as Christians, we certainly understand death in a way that moves far beyond its current clinical definition and determination. That is because we understand life in such a way that the clinical is transcended by the mysterious:  "What is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?" (PS. 8:4). Conversant with a biblical anthropology that refuses to limit a human person to his or hers biological functions, we perceive ourselves in a more complex and meaningful manner. 

There are many ways over the centuries that within our theological tradition we have elaborated on that inexhaustible biblical affirmation that we are created "according to the image and likeness of God." The Church Fathers will speak of the human person as a psychosomatic union of soul and body. Or, following the Apostle Paul of a union of spirit, soul and body. (I THESS. 5:23) Because of some of the Greek philosophical connotations - primarily dualism - of using the terminology of soul and body, there has been a concerted movement within theological circles today to use the more biblically-based terms of "spirit and flesh" to describe the mystery of human personhood. Whatever the exact terminology employed to describe the fullness of human existence, the essential point being made is that the human person is more - much more - than "what meets the eye." We are even greater than the angels according to some of the Fathers, because we unite in our person the "spiritual" and the "material" as the pinnacle of God's creative acts. We have our biological limitations, but we can still know the living God! Even though we are so frail in our humanity, the psalmist can still exclaim in wonder:  "Yet you have made him little less than the angels, and you have crowned him with glory and honor" (PS. 8:5).

In describing the mystery of death as it pertains to all creatures, including human beings, the psalmist says (and we hear this at every Vespers service):  "When you take away their spirit, they die and return to their dust" (Ps. 104:29). This is what happened to the young man from Nain regardless of whatever may have been the immediate cause of his death. Something had happened that could not be fully described as merely brain death. His "spirit" had been taken away and his flesh was destined to return to the dust. Another expression that became almost classical as a theological description of death - and which essentially means the same thing - is that of the "separation of soul and body." Either way, the wholeness and integrity of the human person is lost in death. This is what renders death a tragedy and why the Apostle Paul can refer to death as "the last enemy." 

When the Lord brought this only son of his mother to life again, the spirit of the young man returned to his flesh - or the soul to his body - and he began to live again in the full meaning of that word. Yet, this is not resurrection in the fullness of that word's meaning as we apply it to Christ:  "For we know that Christ being raised from the dead will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him" (ROM. 6:9). The young man was resuscitated to life. He lived — and died — again, to then await the resurrection of the dead at the end of time, a resurrection prefigured and promised by the Lord's resurrection and victory over death. The same can be said of the synagogue elder Jairus' daughter and, of course Lazarus, the friend of Christ who had been dead for four days. 

There is a passage from his Discourse on the Holy Pascha, in which St. Gregory of Nyssa offers a very "modern" - or is that "post-modern?" - evaluation of the loss of a moral/ethical dimension to life when we discard the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead:

... If there is no resurrection, and death is the end of live, then leave off your accusations and reprimands, having been granted an unimpeded authority for homicide:

let the adulterers destroy marriage; let the covetous live in luxury at the expense of their opponents; do not scold anyone; let the perjurers curse continuously, for death awaits him who sticks to cursing; let another lie as much as one may desire, because there is no reward for truth; let no one help the poor, for the merciful will remain without a prize.

Such considerations occur in the soul of those more chaotic than the flood; they cast out every wise thought and encourage every foolish thought and thievery. For if there is no resurrection, there is no Judgment; if then the Judgment is denied, the fear of God is denied along with it. Where there is no one who is humbled by fear, there the devil exults.

 

We are told today that we are essentially a walking bag of chemicals with an evolved consciousness. This further implies that at death this biological organism collapses, all consciousness is irreversibly lost, and that final oblivion is our common fate. The Scripture revelation that we accept as coming from God tells us something radically different. To hear the Gospel is to fill us with the faith, hope and love that can only come from the living God. It is to hear of a different destiny and one that makes life infinitely more meaningful and hopeful. We too can cry out together with the crowd at Nain: "A great prophet has arisen among us!" and "God has visited his people!" (LK. 7:16). And living within the Church we know that this is the Lord who "shall come again with glory to judge the living and the dead; whose Kingdom shall have no end:" thus allowing us the final joyful affirmation: "I look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. Amen."