The Waking Dreamer: Compassion

Showing posts with label Compassion. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 05, 2026

Looking for What God is Doing

John 9:1-7, 13-41[1]

We turn to faith for comfort. That’s one of the main roles faith plays in our lives. It offers us comfort when the realities of life can feel like they’re too much to bear. That’s why we love Scripture passages like Psalm 23. It’s a beautiful expression of the comfort our faith offers us. But when we only look to faith for comfort, it’s too easy to focus only our ourselves, and lose sight of those around us. That’s why our faith also challenges us. Faith that’s worth its salt not only offers us comfort, it also challenges us to see the suffering of our sisters and brothers in the human family. Especially those who suffer the most in this world, the very ones we may prefer not to see. When we let our faith turn in on itself, it becomes too easy to convince ourselves that their suffering is somehow their own fault. Instead of seeing them as beloved children of God who are suffering in the same way we all can suffer, which can be a scary thought, we convince ourselves that they must have done something to bring it on themselves. The idea that they must have done something to deserve their suffering somehow assures us that it won’t happen to us. But in the process, we let our desire for comfort and safety blind us to the compassion God wants us to give to the people who suffer the most in this world.

Our Gospel lesson for today addresses this issue. It’s the story about Jesus’ encounter with a man who had been born blind. But the irony is that it turns the tables on how we might expect the story to go. In this story, the “religious” people who claimed that they could see were in fact blind. They were blind to the compassion of God, they were blind to truth that Jesus restored this man’s sight. But it was a man who was despised as an ignorant vagrant was the one who was able to see what they couldn’t or wouldn’t see. The narrator emphasizes this irony by calling the one Jesus healed “the man who had formerly been blind.” But irony is that in this story, he was the one who was able to see the truth about Jesus. On the other hand, the “religious” people were blinded because of their assumptions.

The basic assumption in this story that blinded the “religious” people is that anyone who is suffering must have done something to deserve it. That’s an assumption that we still make. In the Gospel story, it was Jesus’ own disciples who voiced this assumption, asking, “who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” (John 9:2). The very fact that he had been born blind meant that someone had to have done something wrong to cause his suffering. But Jesus exploded the centuries-old myth that suffering comes from sin. I like the way Gene Peterson translates Jesus’ response in The Message: “You’re asking the wrong question. You're looking for someone to blame. There is no such cause-effect here. Look instead for what God can do” (John 9:3, MSG).

The hard truth is that we live in a world where any kind of suffering can affect anyone at any time. And we tend to use rationalizations like “they must have brought it on themselves” to assure ourselves that we won’t have to suffer the same pain! But Jesus turns all that on its head. He says that the suffering people experience in this world isn’t about blaming or shaming. Rather, it’s an opportunity for those of us who claim to follow him to demonstrate “the works of God” (John 9:4): kindness, compassion, and mercy! The suffering that people endure is an opportunity for us to “look instead for what God can do” (John 9:3, MSG), even and especially in the worst of the pain people can suffer!

Because Jesus healed “the man who had formerly been blind” on the Sabbath day, the religious people believed he had “broken” the Sabbath and therefore he must have been a “sinner” (John 9:16). They believed that following their “rules” about the Sabbath carefully and completely would act as a kind of magical protection from the suffering in the world. Because Jesus didn’t follow their rules about how to observe the Sabbath, he called into question their assumptions about God and the world. To keep their assurances intact they concluded that he must have been a sinner! Only if Jesus was a sinner could they keep their assumptions intact, assumptions that gave them false and shallow assurances that they would never have to deal with that kind of suffering. We still do that: we tell ourselves that if we follow all the rules, we’ll be spared from the worst hardships of life. And we reinforce that line of thinking by assuming those who suffer the worst must have “broken the rules,” and therefore they must be “sinners.” I would think that most of us have had enough experience with life to know that’s not the way life works. We can follow all the rules and still be hit with some of the worst kinds of suffering.

Again, in the Gospel story it was “the man who had formerly been blind” who exposed all these false assumptions. The religious leaders kept pressing him, trying to find a way to avoid the obvious conclusion that Jesus restored his sight. Finally, in exasperation they said, “Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner” (John 9:24). And an unlearned, marginalized, ragged, and dirty man, who just that morning had been living on the street, showed a depth of insight beyond all that they possessed. He said simply, “I do not know whether he is a sinner” (Jn 9:25). There’s probably a lot of wisdom in that when it comes to using the word “sinner” about someone else. But he said, “One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see” (Jn 9:25).

This man who had been blind was able to see the truth about Jesus. Those who claimed to see and know God’s truth were blinded by their false assumptions. That’s what the story is about. We see it in the end when Jesus makes an ironic and somewhat confusing statement about enabling those who are blind to see and making those who can see blind. The Message translation puts it this way, “I came into the world … , so that those who have never seen will see, and those who have made a great pretense of seeing will be exposed as blind” (John 9:39, MSG). I don’t think Jesus ever meant to keep anyone from seeing the truth about God, the truth about themselves, or the truth about life. I think what he was trying to do was to expose those who “make a great pretense of seeing” as people who can actually be blind. The story is about bringing to light something that happens all too often: those of us who think we see the truth about God and therefore view ourselves as “holier” than others are the ones who can at times be the most blind to God’s grace and mercy and compassion!

The hard truth about life is that we never know what we may have to go through. There are times when suffering just happens, not because of what we have done, but in spite of all we may have done. It’s natural in those times for us to look to our faith for comfort. But when we take that to an extreme and try to use our faith as an assurance that it won’t happen to us, we’ve missed something. Jesus made it clear that we’ve missed something when we use our “faith” to brand those who are suffering as “sinners” as a way of reassuring ourselves that we won’t have to suffer like them. What that really boils down to is an elaborate means of making ourselves feeling better at the expense of others. But Jesus framed the suffering people experience in this world entirely differently. He framed it as an opportunity for us to “look instead for what God can do” (John 9:3, MSG).

The Bible says that “nothing will be impossible for God.” We oftentimes think that some people may be beyond hope. And we tend to point the finger at them and assume that they must have done something to deserve it. It’s their fault somehow. But we really don’t know what life experiences have brought people to where they are. We really don’t know the burdens that people are carrying. I think that’s why Jesus taught his disciples and us to look at the suffering people experience not as a reason to point the finger and blame but as an opportunity to “look instead for what God can do.” Instead of shaming people, he challenged us to look for the good that God can do even and especially in the worst of human pain. After all, God raise Jesus from the dead after his suffering on the cross. If that’s true, what experience in this life is there that God can’t bring good from? And when look for what God can do when someone is suffering, not only does it change our whole perspective, but it also helps us to see that we have the opportunity to share God’s mercy and compassion with them. Maybe that’s what God “wants” to do. Maybe God wants to open our hearts to show kindness, compassion, and care, especially toward those whose suffering challenges us. I think Jesus challenges us to find the faith to look at the sufferings of this life and trust God enough to look for what God can do in any situation, come what may, and then try to join him in doing that.

[1] © Alan Brehm 2026. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 3/15/2026 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

Tuesday, July 22, 2025

Simple Actions

Colossians 1:1-14, Luke 10:25-37[1]

My Grandmother’s sister, Ruth Jackson, was the first woman to become an orthopedic surgeon. Anywhere. In fact, the association of women Orthopedic Surgeons is called the “Ruth Jackson Society.” She was quite a gutsy lady—just becoming a doctor was hard enough for a woman in those days. Her passion combined with her compassion for people led her to break into one of the most elite “men’s only” clubs in that day. In fact, Orthopedic Surgery is still that way to this day, a century later! When my aunt Ruth was treated for a neck injury, she was unhappy that orthopedics in that day was a “hands-off” discipline. They took x-rays, used neck braces, and prescribed traction for patients without ever actually touching them. So she pioneered a “hands-on” approach to treating neck injuries. She literally wrote the book on the treatment of neck injuries—a book that went through 4 editions and was translated into various languages and was the standard text around the world for many years.

Growing up with Aunt Ruth was both wonderful and difficult. She taught me to shoot, to fish, and to drive, among many other things. She could be incredibly demanding of a boy who she wanted to follow in her footsteps. I still remember the time at her dining table when she insisted that any nephew of hers was going to learn proper table manners! I was 6 years old! Obviously, it stuck with me all these years. In fact, the whole family expected me—both implicitly and out loud—to do something “spectacular” just like Aunt Ruth. They didn’t insist that I go into medicine—though she applied a great deal of “arm twisting” to get me to do just that. But whatever field I went into, it was clear that I was expected to do something “spectacular.”

We live in a world where it seems more and more that you have to do something “spectacular” in order to make a difference. I think this is in part due to the fact that instant communications have made our world much bigger for all of us. With access to news about so many problems that are so widespread all over the world, it can be so easy for us to think, “I’m just one person,” and “I can’t really make a difference.” I think this is especially the case in our culture where we almost worship “celebrities.” How many of our kids at certain ages dream not of becoming doctors or lawyers or teachers, but rather famous actors or musicians or athletes? To some extent, that’s just youthful exuberance. But I think some of it comes from our near obsession with people who are “famous.” And for some, that notion that you have to do something spectacular or even become famous can be linked to feeling valued by those you love.

I think that our lesson from Paul’s letter to the Colossians this week gives us some help at this point. In his letters, Paul talks about the Christian life in a way that is pretty down to earth. It’s a matter of “bearing fruit” and doing “good work” (Col. 1:10). I would remind you that “bearing fruit” in the Bible is a metaphor for the quality of your character, not “getting results.” It’s about who we are, not what we accomplish. Here and elsewhere in his letters, Paul talks about the Christian life as a matter of simple actions, like “walking the walk,” and not just “talking the talk.” These and other incredibly ordinary activities are what it means to live in a such way as to “honor and please the Lord” who redeemed us (Col 1:10-14). It sounds like the life that Paul envisions for those of us who would follow Christ is really nothing spectacular at all. It’s a matter of focusing on simple actions in our daily living.

That might seem too cliché to merit our attention, until you think about the Parable of the Good Samaritan. After all, what did the Samaritan do that was so “spectacular”? All that kind soul did was to notice the one who was wounded, actually take time to stop, and care enough to bind up his wounds. And then he saw to it that this wounded man could have the time he needed to recuperate. It’s a story of simple actions: mercy put into practice, compassion that goes the second mile. Stopping, caring for him, putting him up at the inn, were all simple actions. Nothing spectacular. But they made all the difference in the world to “the one who fell among robbers.”

It seems to me, contrary to our culture that is obsessed with all things “spectacular,” it is when we are engaged in simple actions that we make the most difference in another person’s life. I’ve studied with world-renowned theologians and Bible scholars. But the most influential person in my life was my brother, Douglas, who was mentally and emotionally handicapped. It was just the gentleness of his soul that impacted me so deeply. To paraphrase one of my favorite spiritual writers, Henri Nouwen, the Christian life is “mostly hidden in the ordinariness of everyday living.”[2] It’s not something that makes headlines in the news.

When you get right down to it, that’s the only place we can really make much of a difference in the life of another human being. We mere mortals rarely achieve the level of influence that can truly make a difference for hundreds or thousands of people out there. For the most part, we can touch a life here, a life there. And we do that through the quality of our character as displayed in simple actions, not anything “spectacular” we might do. It’s through the way in which we actually relate to people, the way we actually treat other human beings, not through any great “achievement,” that we really have an effect on others. From that perspective, the Christian life is a matter of simple actions that constitute living out the grace and mercy and compassion of God. I see a lot of pain and suffering in this world. When we live in a world of hurt like that, it makes it all the more important for us to live out God’s grace and mercy and compassion in simple actions every day.

[2] Henri Nouwen, Here and Now:Living in the Spirit, 103: “The compassionate life is mostly hidden in the ordinariness of everyday living.”

Tuesday, November 19, 2024

(Not) Just for Show

Mark 12:38-44[1]

We like to think of ourselves as individuals who are capable of standing on our own two feet without any help from anyone else. But the truth of our lives, all our lives, is that we’re very much dependent on our place in a community. Without our families, without our jobs, without having a “place” in society, we are very much “adrift,” and even perhaps “invisible.” The history of migrants in this country demonstrates that. Whether they were Latino, or Chinese, or Irish, or Italian, there’ve always been individuals we deemed “less than” and a threat to “our way of life.” As a society, we did that to American citizens who were displaced by the Great Depression and the “Dust Bowl.” And we still do it to people who don’t “fit in,” for whatever reason.

We like to think we have good reasons for this kind of shallow judgment. We reinforce our prejudices against those who look or dress or talk differently from us with all kinds of “justifications.” They commit crimes. Or they carry diseases. Or they brought their plight on themselves. But what it boils down to is that we believe they’re a threat to our way of life, our safety, and our success. We believe that people who “aren’t like us” are to blame for their own misfortunes, while we consistently let ourselves and those in our circles off the hook for whatever difficulties may come our way. Our compassion is limited to those who are a part of our “circle.”

The real threat here, however, is not the “others,” however we define them. The real threat is the fact that, deep down, we all know that our way of life depends on being able to “keep up appearances.” We all harbor the secret fear that if people really knew who we are, down deep, it could cost us our place in the community. And along with our place in the community, we could lose everything. I think the fear of losing our place in this world, and with it our way of life, is what has always driven us to label certain “others” as a threat. But the real threat is from the fragility of our place in society.

Our Gospel lesson for today throws this issue into the spotlight in a way that might seem rather uncomfortable. Jesus was at the Temple in Jerusalem, watching the people making their contributions. The Temple in that day was a huge organization, the largest in Jewish society, supporting religious leaders that numbered in the tens of thousands. In that setting, Jesus saw “A poor widow” who “came and put in two small copper coins” (Mk 12:42). What she gave was next to nothing. It wasn’t enough to buy food for a single meal. It certainly wasn’t going to make or break the Temple treasury!

By comparison, Mark tells us that “Many rich people put in large sums” (Mk 12:41). We don’t know exactly what kind of container held the offerings, but apparently it was something that would have been very public. And since money in that day consisted of coins, it would have been obvious to all present that they had given a lot. But Jesus wasn’t impressed with their large gifts. He said it this way: they “have contributed out of their abundance” (Mk 12:44). They gave what was convenient to give. They gave what may have been “pocket change” to them. They gave what they wouldn’t miss. They made a show of being “religious,” but that’s all it was: it was just for show.

I think that what may be easy to miss was that this woman had obviously lost her place in society. She was a widow who was poor, which likely meant that she was alone in the world. She couldn’t afford nice clothes or a decent place to live. She couldn’t even afford to buy one meal! While she may have had some support from the Jewish system of charity, it was likely only “token” assistance. She was a non-person to all the prominent leaders who were at the Temple to “worship God,” essentially invisible. The contradiction between the show they were putting on and the true condition of their hearts couldn’t have been more obvious. But clearly, it was that very show that maintained their place in society, so the show went on.

In Mark’s Gospel, this episode is preceded by Jesus’ criticism of the Jewish religious leaders. He said they went to great lengths to look impressive with their beautiful robes and to be noticed for their “presence” in worship. But he knew that it was all for show (Mk.12:40). They wanted to make it look like they were spiritual. But the fact that their real agenda was about themselves was revealed by the indictment Jesus made. They were literally “devouring” the homes of widows like the woman who gave her last two coins. They were defrauding some of the most vulnerable people in their society. They were wrapped up in their own self-interest. Their lack of care for a poor widow who had lost her place in the community exposed their “show” of piety as a sham.

In contrast to the religious leaders and the prominent people in the community who were putting on a show simply to maintain their “place,” Jesus affirmed the faith of this woman, whom they chose not even to see. He said that while they “contributed out of their abundance,” she “put in everything she had, all she had to live on” (Mk. 12:44). What may not be obvious on the surface of things is that the Greek phrase translated “all she had to live on” could also be rendered “her whole life.” As hard as it may be to comprehend, it sounds like she gave the last two coins she had to her name!

I think it’s hard for most of us to grasp why she would do that. Perhaps it was because she had reached the end of her rope. She had had exhausted her resources, and she was offering herself entirely to God, trusting him to care for her needs. She had clearly lost her “place” in society. She was alone, she had no means of supporting herself, and it seems clear that the only one who even noticed her presence at the Temple on that day was Jesus. Everyone else was too busy keeping up appearances, keeping the “show” going that kept their “place” in society safe and secure.

But was there more to it than just an act of desperation? I’d like to think this was the final act of devotion in a lifetime of true devotion to God. Perhaps that’s why Jesus said her gift was more substantial than all the “large sums” the others gave. While they gave just for “show,” she gave from the heart. They were concerned with keeping their “place” in the community secure. But she was concerned with something much more important. She embodied the kind of attitude that Jesus was talking about last week: a commitment to loving God with all we are, all we have, and all we hope to be.

Those of us who are the “haves” in our society tend to believe that we “deserve” our place in the community, along with the safety and security that goes with it. And we still tend to assume that the “have nots” are in that place because they must have done something to deserve it. But the hard fact of life is that it’s not about “deserving.” Life happens to us all, “haves” and “have nots” alike, and life doesn’t care what we think we deserve. Our ultimate assurance is found in God, and in God alone. But if that really sinks in, and if we truly understand that God loves us more than we “deserve,” that God has given us far more than we “deserve,” then we have to respond to those who are without a place in our community with compassion. If we don’t, no amount of giving really amounts to anything. And everything else we do around here is nothing but a lot “noise” (1 Cor 13:1-3). It’s all just for show. What counts is caring for the people who have lost their place in this world and showing that our care is real by helping them. That’s what makes everything else we do in the name of Jesus real.

Tuesday, April 23, 2024

More Than Words

1 John 3:16-24[1]

We all know that loving God means loving people. And we all know that loving people means more than just loving our family and friends. It means loving even those who are difficult to love, even those who may push our comfort level, even those whom we may think of as “enemies.” And we all know that when the Bible teaches us to love like this, it’s not just talking about how you “feel.” It’s talking about how you live, what you do, and how you treat people. And it’s not just talking about “people” as an “idea,” it’s talking about the real, living and breathing people we come in contact with every day. If there’s one thing that’s true about loving other people, really loving all the people we come in contact with, it’s that it doesn’t come easily—for any of us!

I think part of the reason for this is that love is about giving. When you love another person, you give to them. You give them what they need when they need it. If they’re hungry, you feed them. If they’re lonely, you spend time with them. If they need help, you give it to them. You care for them when they cannot care for themselves. But more than any specific thing you may give to someone you love, you give yourself. That’s where it gets tricky, because the question is how much of yourself you can really give away. We all know that our example for loving others is Jesus, who gave his life for us all. And there have been many throughout the ages who have done just that: give up their lives for the sake of those they loved.

As much as I would agree with the fact that Jesus’ teachings about love were intended to prepare those who followed him for the possibility that they may be called on to give up even their lives for others, I would not say that’s what loving others always means for everyone. Sometimes we may be called to give up a great deal, perhaps even everything, perhaps even life itself for the sake of those we love. Sometimes, though, we’re called to love people over the course of a lifetime. We may give up a lot in order to do that, but the point is that we go on living our lives so that we can go on loving them day by day, year after year. I would say that’s probably the kind of life of love that most of us are called to practice.

The practice of loving other people as something that is at the heart of what it means to be a Christian is also a major theme in 1 John. The Elder John says it plainly earlier in the chapter from which our lesson for today is drawn: “This is the message you have heard from the beginning: We should love one another” (1 Jn 3:11, NLT). And in our lesson, he says, “We know what real love is because Jesus gave up his life for us. So we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters” (1 Jn 3:16, NLT). Again, we know well that there were many in that day who literally were called to give up their lives, especially to protect their brothers and sisters in the faith. But that doesn’t seem to be what’s in mind here. He goes on: “If someone has enough money to live well and sees a brother or sister in need but shows no compassion—how can God’s love be in that person? Dear children, let’s not merely say that we love each other; let us show the truth by our actions” (1 Jn 3:17-18, NLT).”

Here, the kind of love that the Elder John has in mind is about having the means to help someone in need and actually helping them. It’s about sharing what we have with people we know who are in need. For some of us, helping others like this is second nature. For others it may be more difficult. Beyond the basic challenge of whether or not we have a generous nature, the command that we are to love others by giving tangible goods or money to help them is another way in which loving others can be tricky. We have to use our best judgment to discern whether giving someone what they ask for actually helps them or whether it may hurt them. It’s not always easy to know for sure when we’ve crossed that line.

I’ve had some experience with that. Some of you may know that I have a tendency to be generous to a fault. When I was in college, I was the guy who picked up hitchhikers as I was driving the wide-open spaces of Texas. I’ve given more money out of my own pocket than I probably should have to people simply because they asked for it. And I know for sure that some of them were taking advantage of my generosity. I had a man whom I had helped on more than one occasion come back to me and apologize. He had been taking advantage of the fact that I was helping keep him housed to spend what money he had on his drinking habit. Was I helping him? Was I hurting him? That’s where it gets tricky.

I’d like to think that I’ve gotten more discerning about whom I help and how I will help them. I don’t have any problem buying someone a meal or filling their tank with gas. But I prefer to give money to organizations that help those in need rather than handing out cash to someone standing on a street corner. And yet, I must confess it’s hard for me to just “look the other way,” but I simply don’t feel comfortable potentially giving someone the means to continue destroying their own lives. I think the challenge for me is to make sure that I’m actually giving to those organizations and not just using that as an excuse not to share what I have with those who are in need.

The part of this that gets really tricky for all of us is that helping people who are in true need takes us outside our comfort zones. Many of the people who truly have needs we can help are those we ordinarily may not have much to do with, or perhaps they are those whom we intentionally avoid. But we cannot follow the command to love others without recognizing “the intrinsic claim of every person to be considered a person.”[2] That’s not so hard when everyone we meet looks like us, or talks like us. But we live in a great big world with a lot of very different people in it. We cannot simply love those who are like us. We can only truly love our neighbors when we can see “that every human face is the face of a neighbor.”[3] And Jesus calls us to love that neighbor. When we can get past all the superficial differences and see anyone in need as “one of us,” then we can love them in a way that goes beyond words.

[2] Paul Tillich, Love, Power and Justice, 60.

[3] Henri J. M. Nouwen, The Wounded Healer: Ministry in Contemporary Society, 41: “For a compassionate [man] nothing human is alien: no joy and no sorrow, no way of living and no way of dying. … This compassion pulls people away from the fearful clique into the large world where they can see that every human face is the face of a neighbor.”

Tuesday, September 12, 2023

Take the First Step

Matthew 18:10-20[1]

As is too often the case with men, my most difficult relationship was with my father, Harold Brehm, who passed away in May. For me, it seemed that no matter how hard I tried to do my best, it was never good enough. It’s a dilemma I’ve heard from other men and women regarding their relationships with their parents. I haven’t kept it secret that I was never close to my parents. That happens. My case was not simply one of normal “tension” between parents and children. There’s a lot I could say about that, but I choose not to out of respect for them. I will say this, the distance I kept from my father was not without cause. If I told the whole story, I’m quite sure some of you might be shocked. I’ve never spoken of this in a sermon. I refrained from doing so while he was alive out of respect for him. But now that he’s in the presence of Christ, where he’s whole and healed, I feel that I can tell my story.

I realized many years ago that it was up to me to forgive my father. I’m not ashamed to admit the process took decades. It began when I was a young man. I realized that holding on to bitterness toward my father was hurting me and my relationships. But it’s one thing to recognize the need for forgiveness. It’s another thing to actually forgive. I continued to take steps toward that goal over the years as I grew in my understanding of myself, and in my understanding of my father. I’m deeply grateful that the process led to my ability to fully forgive my father about five years ago or so. To be sure, he never apologized or asked for forgiveness. And I never confronted him for what he had done. I didn’t think it would do any good. Nevertheless, I am grateful to God for giving me the ability to let him be who was, flaws and all, and to love him despite what had happened.

It may be hard to see this, but I believe our Gospel lesson is about forgiveness. I think the reason why it may be difficult to see this is because the lesson outlines a procedure for “admonishing” or “rebuking” another person may seem impractical to us. As the basis for the practice of “excommunication” in its various forms, our lesson for today seems to be at odds with what we know of Jesus. These verses have been used to justify everything from excluding people from the Lord’s Supper to completely shunning them. I would say when Christians cut off someone else in the name of Jesus, we’ve missed something. Our lives are meant to be directed toward loving God and loving others.

I think Matthew was aware of this problem. I think we see this in the way Matthew has arranged Jesus’ teaching in this chapter. We have to take Matthew chapter 18 as a whole. When we do, we find that Matthew himself has “couched” this difficult passage about admonishing others in the context of humility, compassion, and forgiveness. We who follow Jesus are called to become “humble like a child” (Mt 18:4). We’re called to practice concern for the “little ones” by taking care that we not cause anyone to “stumble” (Mt 18:6). We’re reminded that God does not look down on any of his “sheep” who may have “gone astray” (Mt 18:10-14). And we’re called to forgive one another not seven times but “seventy-seven times” or as some translations render it, “seventy times seven” (Mt 18:22). Whatever the situation was behind this procedure for admonishing others, it was meant to be carried out with humility, compassion, and forgiveness.

We can see a similar situation with the Apostle Paul, where the question of eating meat was one that caused Gentile converts to “stumble.” In response, Paul actually urged both sides to take the first step: if you’re the one who is offended, he asks, “who are you to judge”? The idea is that rather than holding a grudge or harboring bitterness, we’re to take the first step toward resolving the problem. And if you’re the one who has offended another, he urges us to “never put a stumbling block or hindrance” in the way of another (Rom 14:13). Paul himself insisted that if he did anything to give offense to anyone, he was going to take the first step by avoiding anything that might harm others (1 Cor 8:13). The basic principle here was one of humility, compassion, and forgiveness for others.

Jesus said something similar in the Sermon on the Mount. He said that if we come to worship and remember that we have done something to offend someone, we must first be reconciled before we can rightly worship God (Mt 5:23-24). Think about it: how can we truly worship God while we’re harboring bitterness or a grudge against someone? It just doesn’t work. Jesus may have been following the lead of some of the Old Testament prophets here, like Isaiah or Jeremiah. That we cannot truly worship God without making things right with the people in our lives is a theme that they emphasized. And Jesus also insisted that we take the first step toward making things right.

I think Matthew knew what he was doing when he based the step-by-step process for setting things right on humility, compassion, and forgiveness. I think he had some keen insight into who we are as human beings. Humility enables us to look at ourselves and recognize that my attitude or my actions may be the problem, not the other person. That’s not something that comes easily. Compassion enables us to see things through the perspective of those with whom we may be at odds. It also enables us to care about them as people, and so to care about their wellbeing. Forgiveness enables us to drop any sense that we may feel we have a right to judge or to blame the other person. And when we take the first step to make things right prayerfully, we can hardly do so without a change of heart from one of blame and bitterness to one of humility, compassion and forgiveness.[2]

I’m not going to pretend that the process of healing broken relationships is one that can be undertaken lightly or carried out easily. The deeper the hurt, the more work it’s going to take from us. It took me decades to forgive my father. There were times when I wasn’t sure I was ever going to be able to get there. The key for me was that I continued to pray, and I continued to try to see him through eyes of compassion. It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t happen quickly, but I can honestly say that I’m grateful for all the many “first steps” that God helped me to take over the years. For me, forgiving my father was crucial to my ability to “live and breathe a spirit of forgiveness”[3] toward everyone, which I would say is at the heart of following Jesus.

[2] Ulrich Luz, A Commentary on Matthew 8-20, 458. He reasons that we can hardly “pray” for the punishment of offenders, but rather for their salvation and restoration to the community!

[3] W. D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, Matthew 8-18.

Tuesday, June 13, 2023

My Religion is Kindness

Matthew 9:9-13[1]

Even though most churches were full when I was growing up in the 1960’s and 1970’s, I wouldn’t say it was a time when people were particularly devoted to following Jesus. Because of that a lot of people were jaded by the gap between the words people were saying in church and the lives they were living outside the sanctuary. Without the “walk” to back it up, many saw all the religious “talk” as just a lot of words that didn’t mean much. Instead, a lot of the people I grew up with decided to find their lives in slogans like “if it feels good, do it.” When I look at where some of those people are today, I must confess I’m more than a little surprised. Some of the people who “partied” the hardest back then have turned into some of the most staunchly religious people today. But the irony is that they don’t seem to be any more committed to actually following Jesus now than they were back in the day. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised that a whole new generation is turning away from church. Or that a major factor in their leaving is because they believe that the church is out of step with one of their most important values: treating all people with kindness and respect.[2]

You’d think that would be something that Christian churches would excel at. As our lesson from the Gospel of Matthew for today reminds us, Jesus modeled a life of treating all people with kindness, compassion, and dignity. Here Jesus demonstrates that fundamental orientation of his life by calling “Matthew,” a man who was a tax collector. As I’ve mentioned before, tax collectors in Jewish society were hated by the people in general and despised by the religious leaders. In fact, the phrase, “tax collectors and sinners” in that day was one that pretty much included everyone who was viewed as immoral, dishonest, tainted, or in any way “undesirable.” And there Jesus was, calling this man to be one of his hand-picked apprentices in carrying out the ministry of the kingdom of God!

That created a dilemma for the “religious” people of his day. On the one hand, his proclamation of God’s grace, of God’s kingdom of peace and freedom, and of the realization of God’s promise to show them mercy must have sounded like the best news they’d ever heard. It excited them and inspired them. Kind of like us. But on the other hand, the fact that he offered all that to the destitute, the undesirables, the down-and-out, and the sinners alongside the “religious” people raised serious objections. They’d been taught that God blesses those who obey and punishes those who disobey. Like us they’d probably spent a lifetime of trying to live up to God’s expectations. And Jesus told them that the reward they expected was going to be handed to those who never even expended one iota of effort to gain it! That offended them. Kind of like us!

That’s the backdrop for Jesus’ shocking statement, “Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’” (Mt 9:13). Jesus didn’t just pull that out of thin air. He was quoting Scripture. Specifically, Hosea 6:6. The irony is that he was talking to the Jewish religious leaders, who spent all their time studying Scripture! But Jesus told them that in spite of their efforts they had missed the point: putting the mercy they had received from God into practice in the way they treated others—all others.

They would have known Hosea 6:6. They would have also known that in the Hebrew Bible, the word translated “mercy” was a “loaded” word. It referred to both God’s unfailing love and also the abiding commitment to love that God’s love calls forth on the part of those who receive it. And they would have known that Scripture defined that commitment in terms of loving God “with all your heart” (Dt 6:5) and loving “your neighbor as yourself” (Lev. 19:18). Unfortunately, they had convinced themselves that they only “had” to put that love into practice with their Jewish neighbors. And in fact, they only had to put that love into practice with some of their Jewish neighbors. But in the Old Testament, “mercy” is the equivalent of “love.” It’s a fundamental life orientation toward treating all people with kindness, compassion, and dignity. In the Scripture passage from Hosea 6:6 that Jesus called on to answer his critics for the fact that he extended kindness even to “tax collectors and sinners,” “mercy” is the equivalent of “love.” The word in the Greek New Testament that we’re used to hearing for that kind of approach to other people is “agape.” It’s the love that Jesus showed for all of us by dying on the cross!

All of this makes me wonder what it says about the church in this day and time that a growing number of young people are leaving, and one of the main reasons they give is the fact that they find the church to be lacking in the one quality that Jesus said would demonstrate that we’re his disciples (Jn 13:35). There’s so much division going on these days, so much disagreement, so much conflict. People are going take different stands on social and political issues, hopefully respectfully and with civility. But when it comes to how we treat people, there is no “alternative” for those of us who claim to follow Jesus. There is only one option: we who have received the unconditional love God has shown by claiming us forever as his beloved children are commanded by our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ to show that unconditional love to everyone we meet.

Many of you may know that the Dalai Lama is famous for saying “My religion is kindness.” He’s said it many times and in many places. I have a lot of respect for the Dalai Lama, but I find it sad to think that many young people in our day may be more familiar with the Dalai Lama’s devotion to kindness than they are with Jesus’ devotion to kindness. If that’s the case, I’m afraid we’re responsible. Jesus lived out the command to “love your neighbor as yourself” by showing kindness, compassion, and respect for everyone he encountered. His “religion” was kindness just as much as the Dalai Lama’s. Perhaps more so. Not only in his words, but also by the way he treated people, he offered God’s mercy to the destitute, the undesirables, the down-and-out, and the sinners—as well as the “religious” people.

None of this is anything you haven’t heard before. None of this is anything you haven’t heard from me before. But I think we have to go beyond just talking about it. I think we have to take a hard look at ourselves to figure what’s missing in our efforts to put our faith into practice. More than that, there’s something to be said for living a life that’s consistent with what we say we believe. At least as consistent as possible for flawed and fallible human beings. That makes it possible for us to look ourselves in the mirror and know that, at the end of the day, we’ve done our best. All of us who have lived much of life are going to have some regrets. The reality is that we all fall short. But when we can say with the Apostle Paul that our “conscience is clear” before God (1 Cor 4:4), it frees us to move past our hurts and fears and the petty and sometimes selfish ways of living our hurts and fears can bring out in us. It frees us to love all our neighbors: our neighbors who don’t look like us, think like us, love like us, speak like us, pray like us, or vote like us. It frees us to make kindness our religion—not just as a slogan, but for real.

[2] Cf. “Exodus: Why Americans are Leaving Religion—and Why They’re Unlikely to Come Back,” Public Religion Research Institute, 22 September 2016. Accessed at https://www.prri.org/research/prri-rns-poll-nones-atheist-leaving-religion/ .

Wednesday, September 08, 2021

Seeing Others, Seeing Ourselves

Mark 7:24-37; James 2:1-17[1]

If you asked people what the marks of genuine faith are, the vast majority would say something about being kind to others. And that would be true the world over, regardless of race or religion. It has been taught world-wide from the beginnings of human religious devotion. Unfortunately, however much we may say that kindness and compassion ought to define our lives, we’ve never quite been able to put that into practice. From the beginning of time, we have drawn lines and built fences to separate “Us” from “Them.” And we’ve done it because have always seen those who are “Other” as a threat to our survival.

The practical truth, however, is that our continued building of barriers and drawing of lines does not enhance our safety. Rather, dividing the world into “Us” and “Them” poses the greatest threat to human survival. We see it locally where communities are tearing themselves apart over everything from public safety to the current health crisis to schooling for our children. We see it globally in the changing weather patterns that are putting people in harm’s way from fire and flooding, from drought and superstorms. “Us” versus “Them” is not only not compassionate, it also undermines the future of humanity, because we can only solve these problems by working together!

With that in mind, we may find it surprising that in our Gospel lesson for today Jesus appears to endorse an “us versus them” mentality in his encounter with a woman who was a “foreigner.” When she heard he was near, she went and begged him to help her daughter. Begged! In response, Jesus said: “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs” (Mk. 7:27). Not only does that sound unkind, it was also downright insulting. It sounds like the typical Jewish mindset that only Jewish people qualified as the “neighbors” God commanded them to love. Everyone else was a Gentile “dog.”

I find it hard to believe that was who Jesus was. As we saw last week, Jesus made it clear being accepted and loved by God is not about washing your hands “properly” or eating the “right” foods. And Jesus also made it clear that how you treat people is the measure for how well you honor God. With that in mind, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that our Gospel lesson for today is about Jesus healing people who would have been considered “unclean” simply because of where they were born. Although it’s not obvious here, Jesus’ interactions elsewhere with all those who would have been considered “Other” shows how wrong-headed it is to draw lines that exclude certain people from God’s love.

I think we have to understand Jesus’ strange comment in light of how he actually treated people who were considered “dogs.” Perhaps he was testing the woman to see if she truly had faith. If so, she passed with flying colors, because she called him “Lord,” and she’s the only person in Mark’s gospel to do so! Perhaps he was testing his disciples to find out whether they understood what it meant to love their neighbors. If so, I’d have to say that, like everything else Jesus tried to teach them, at this point they still didn’t get it. The bottom line is that we can only read this strange comment rightly if we keep in mind that everything Jesus did was about loving God and loving others, especially “outsiders.”

While we all “know” that this is what real faith looks like, our lesson from James may push us a bit on whether we “walk the walk” or only “talk the talk.” I think James is saying that just as we cannot love God without loving others, so we cannot honor God if we dishonor others. And he challenged the churches of his day for dishonoring those who were poor and not so “well-dressed” by being less than “welcoming” when they came for worship. He says it bluntly: “If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,’ and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that?” (Jas 2:16).

It would seem that, for James, the true test of our faith is how we love others. And for James, loving your neighbor as yourself cannot be just something we talk about. If it comes from a heart of genuine faith, it will have to move us toward action. So the real question for us is whether we will go beyond talking and actually help people in need. How we do that in practice will be different for all of us, but I think it has to begin with compassion. And real compassion starts with seeing “that every human face is the face of a neighbor.”[2] It starts with seeing ourselves in the face of everyone we label “Other.”

If you read my newsletter column this week, you know that we’re attempting to rise to a new level of meeting that challenge as a church family. We are embarking on a “listening exercise” by reading the stories of people whom we may be tempted to view as “Other.” Our hope is that this will help us learn new ways to love our neighbors, all our neighbors, by going beyond talking about it and doing something to help. Where that begins is recognizing the God-given right “of every person to be considered a person.”[3] It begins with seeing ourselves when we see others.

[2] Henri Nouwen, The Wounded Healer, 41.

[3] Paul Tillich, Love, Power and Justice, 25, 36, 60. This is Tillich’s definition of justice, which he argues must flow from love.

Tuesday, September 08, 2020

Little Ones

Matthew 18:1-20[1]

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a soft spot in my heart for children. And as my (now grown) children will attest, my grandchildren have me wrapped around their little fingers. There’s not much I wouldn’t do for them. And that’s generally true of my attitude toward children. I learned when my own children were young that it’s important to say “Yes” to them as often as possible, so that when you say “No” they understand two things. First, that you mean it. And second, that it’s not a rejection of them. That basic approach has carried over to the way I tend to respond to children in general.

I’d say that most of us tend to have a soft spot for children. What’s interesting to me is that this is a relatively recent development in the history of the world. Children were viewed as mouths to feed, as a burden unless they were able to contribute to the work of the household. That view goes back to time immemorial, and there may be some of you who remember that was still true when you were a child. For most of history, children have been among the least and the last and the left out, not the center of attention and affection that we have made them.

I think it’s crucial to understand that if we’re to make sense of our Gospel reading for today. Children were among the least valued people in the world of Jesus. They were also among some of the most vulnerable people in that day, because they had no rights. So when Jesus’ disciples come to him and ask him about who is the “greatest” in the Kingdom of God, his answer is that they are thinking about it all wrong. Instead of trying to be “greatest”, he says that becoming a part of
God’s kingdom means seeking to become “least,” like children were in that day.

I find it instructive that in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus proceeds to speak to his disciples about how they treat the “little ones who believe in me.” Now, given the introduction to this chapter, we might be forgiven if we assume he’s still talking about children. I don’t think that’s the case here. I think he’s talking about all those who were the “least” in his day: the outcasts, the “unclean,” the poor, the foreign residents—in short, all those who were last and left out in Jewish society.

Jesus speaks rather pointedly about how those who follow him are to relate to the “little ones.” He warns them against causing the “little ones” to stumble. I think the idea here is that the worst thing a follower of the kingdom can do is to treat the least and the last and the left out in such a way as to make them feel that God does not think of them as his beloved children. In fact, Jesus uses some uncharacteristically harsh language to warn his disciples that they should do everything possible to avoid causing harm to these “little ones.”

We see the positive side of this in the analogy of the shepherd who leaves the 99 sheep to go out and find the one who is lost. Rather than shunning the least and the last and the left out, Jesus teaches his disciples to make it their mission in life to seek them out and to bring them back to the place where they can experience God’s love. In fact, Jesus says that this is God’s will: that “none of these little ones should perish.”

Unfortunately, I’m afraid that central idea gets lost in the shuffle of questions about whether Jesus is threatening that his disciples might wind up in hell. Or questions about how we’re supposed to go to fellow believers and be reconciled with them. Or what it means that Jesus says if they will not be reconciled, we’re to treat them like “gentiles and tax collectors.” I think most of that is an exercise in missing the point. The point of this passage is that the quality of our discipleship is measured by the way we treat the “little ones” in our world.

I think that the truth of the matter is that there are all kinds of people in our world who are the “little ones” Jesus spoke of. If you take a good look, you’ll find that there is a lot of pain and suffering. Some people are treated as “least” because of their appearance. Some people are treated as “last” because their life experience doesn’t fit our ideas of what’s “normal.” Some people are “left out” because their position in society prevents them from accessing the luxuries that we consider to be necessities. I could get more specific, but then you might think I’ve stopped preaching and “gone to meddling.”

In fact, I think I would have to say that a Scripture passage like this is positively intended to “meddle” with us. It’s so easy for us to stay comfortable in our own “circles” and not really pay much attention to those who are “outside” or “other.” I think Jesus makes it clear in this passage that if we want to follow him, we simply cannot do that. We must open our eyes and our hearts to those around us who are the least and the last and the left out. If it’s God’s will that not one of them should “perish,” then it seems to me that constitutes a clear call to all of us to embrace all the “little ones” in our world.

Monday, February 10, 2020

As If

Isaiah 58:1-12; Matthew 5:13-20[1]

If you’re familiar with the twelve-step movement, you’ll know that one of the principles for recovering a healthy pattern of living is called “acting as if.” In many cases, the way we feel or even our own thoughts are unreliable guides to healthy living. How many of us have skipped exercising because we just didn’t “feel” like it? Or how many of us have rationalized getting a second plate of food? The recovery movement recognizes that sometimes we have to take the actions we know to be right, establishing habits that are healthy, whether we “feel” like it or not. And when you “act as if” in this way, often your feelings and thoughts will follow your actions.

By contrast, “acting as if” is not a healthy way to approach spirituality. In fact, I would say that some of the worst atrocities committed in the name of God throughout history have been perpetrated by those who were “acting as if” they were devout believers. I think of the Salem witch trials in the early days of this country. Or the crusades, where the motto “God wills it” referred to the slaughter of Muslim men, women and children. And those simply seeking to wield power over communities and even nations have not hesitated to “act as if” they were motivated solely by their devotion to God. “Acting as if” has no place in the life of faith.

In our lesson from Isaiah for today, the prophet rebukes the people for “acting as if” they were sincerely devoted to God. They went through all the right “motions” of seeking God, but their actions betrayed their true motives: it was all about themselves and their own interests (Isa. 58:3). In fact, the prophet scolds them for thinking their “worship” of God was consistent with things like abusing their workers (very likely by withholding their rightful pay), quarreling and violence, and treating others with contempt and vicious gossip (Isa. 58:3-4, 9). This kind of “worship” of God was only a tragic form of “acting as if.”

But the prophet warned them that kind of spirituality is worse than a sham. Not only were they fooling themselves, more than that they were taking the Lord’s name in vain! In fact, when the prophets speak about the people blaspheming God’s name, it had nothing whatsoever to do with uttering any curse phrases. Rather, it was the fact that they claimed to be a people devoted to God, but their actions contradicted God’s explicit truth. They were “taking the Lord’s name in vain” because others would judge the character of God by the character of those who claimed to be his people. When we “talk the talk” but don’t “walk the walk,” we not only fool ourselves, we dishonor God.

The kind of spirituality that God has always sought is one that originates with our hearts being aligned with God’s ways. And it takes shape in actions that relieve human suffering in the real world. In our lesson from Isaiah, the prophet defines what this looks like in specific terms: they were to restore justice to the powerless, they were to feed the hungry, they were to show mercy to the destitute, they were to provide clothing for the naked, and they were to break every chain that kept the “outcasts” bound in misery and remove every burden that crushed the poor. In many ways and through many voices the Bible insists that those who truly know God will love others by practicing this kind of justice and mercy toward all, most especially the least and the last and the left out.

There’s another important word in our scripture readings for today: “unless.” Jesus said “unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 5:20). I like the way the Good News Bible puts it: “you will be able to enter the Kingdom of heaven only if you are more faithful … in doing what God requires” (TEV). In other words, a true relationship with God will show itself in consistently living according to God’s character, God’s truth, and God’s ways. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus goes on to speak about what that looks like in a way similar to the prophet. He doesn’t just warn against harmful actions, but also harmful attitudes. For Jesus as well, merely acting “as if” doesn’t cut it!

In fact, the Bible reserves its harshest warnings of judgment for those who merely put on a show of being faithful to God. There has always been a temptation to wrap oneself in the external appearance of being spiritual. And the temptation has been to judge one’s relationship with God based on these outward trappings of religion. But merely going through the motions without a heart that is truly devoted to God and God’s ways is not only dishonest, it also dishonors God. Throughout history, leaders of all stripes have engaged in this kind of mockery of what is truly right in God’s sight. And throughout history, God’s prophets have consistently called them out for their hypocrisy.

There is no room for “acting as if” in the Christian life. In truth, however, we all do it to some extent. But one of the hard lessons of Isaiah is that when the worship of God does not lead us to respect and restore the dignity and well-being of our brothers and sisters in the human family, it is not the worship of God! Sharing the love we have received from God is the only criterion for evaluating the genuineness of our faith according to Scripture. If our faith is real, we will continue to work at loving God enough to love others—even our “enemies.” If it’s real, we will not be content with “acting as if,” we will take practical steps to put love into action.

Tuesday, January 21, 2020

Part of the Solution

Part of the Solution[1]

It’s not hard to see that our country, our communities, and even our families are deeply divided by social and political issues facing us. Many cultural observers say that we are more divided now than we were during the 1960’s, which saw the civil rights movement, the women’s rights movement, and the Vietnam War. Some even suggest we may be as divided as we were during the Civil War. A wise friend of mine once noted that we don’t have States seceding from Union. But, of course, the division isn’t across State lines. It crosses cities and towns, congregations and families.

There are also many who are trying to find a way for us to come together again as a nation, as communities, and as families. I was listening to someone the other day, and he talked about the way compassion and generosity can help. Compassion is the ability to see things from another person’s point of view. Compassion understands that they have hearts like us, and they have minds like us.

Generosity is a quality that relates to many aspects of life. But when it comes to approaching what divides us, generosity can also be helpful. When we approach someone with generosity, we acknowledge that they are human beings just as capable of happiness and love and goodness as we are, no matter what their opinions may be. Generosity enables us to give those who hold different views the benefit of the doubt.

Unfortunately, we don’t typically respond to those with whom we may have strong disagreements with compassion and generosity. We’re much more likely to react with anger, which often serves as a mask for fear or hurt. We’re also much more likely to insist that we’re in the right and “they” are in the wrong. This leads us to point the finger at those with whom we disagree and blame them for the problems in our society.

If, however, we can learn to respond with compassion and generosity, rather than reacting with fear and blame, it can change the whole situation. Instead of getting angry we can simply recognize that we have a difference of opinion. Rather than attacking the “others” out of our own discomfort, we can remain calm and try to understand their point of view.

When that happens, rather than pointing the finger of blame, perhaps we can ask ourselves how the disagreement we may have with others can motivate us to find our “better selves,” and to “love our neighbors as ourselves.” Perhaps then, instead of arguing angrily, we can learn to listen to one another, to respect one another, and to seek to serve the common good in this way. Hopefully then we can refrain from the attitudes that create the divide and become part of the solution.

Thanks, and I wish you peace and joy!

Pastor Alan

Monday, September 30, 2019

Finding Lazarus

Luke 16:19-31[1]

There are many ways in this life for us to forfeit our humanity. We are so complex and vulnerable, and life can threaten us where we least expect it. I would have to say that our comfortable lifestyle encourages a complacency that can lead us to forfeit our humanity. It’s one of the most dangerous temptations of having all the “stuff” we have: it can leave us blind to the people in need and deaf to God’s call to help them. Being able to see a person living in poverty and hunger as a fellow human being is an important part of our humanity. So is being able to hear God’s call to put compassion and mercy into practice

I think that’s why Jesus told this parable: to shock all who have become blind to the needy and deaf to the call to compassion. In fact, I would say that Jesus told this parable to address the fact that the religious leaders of his day were “lovers of money” (Luke 16:14). Their love affair with their own wealth blinded them to the real needs of the people around them. Not only did they love their money, they also “justified” themselves for it (cf. Lk. 16:15). They considered their wealth to be a sign of God’s favor. Unfortunately, the combination of their love of money and their self-justification robbed them of the ability to show compassion to fellow human beings.

I believe this is the point of Jesus’ parable about a rich man and Lazarus. For those of us who have enough it can be so easy to ignore those who are in need. And when we do so, we lose a part of our humanity. What we have to understand about the rich man is that he is not only rich, he’s very rich. He wears clothing that only kings could afford. He eats all he wants of the finest and richest foods. And what is obvious from the parable is that Lazarus is not only poor, he’s completely destitute. He is so hungry he just wants the scraps from the rich man’s table. And he’s so weak that he can’t even fend off the starving dogs that gather around him!

In the story, their situations are radically reversed. Both men die, and fate of the rich man, who was very likely a “pillar” of the community and a leader of the local synagogue, is shocking in the extreme. Instead of being rewarded in the afterlife, he finds himself in torment. On the other hand, Lazarus, who would have been despised as a “sinner” getting what he deserved, winds up in paradise, in the “bosom of Abraham.” I’m not sure we could imagine a more radical reversal of fortunes. It is a dramatic illustration of the first becoming last and the last becoming first.

It seems to me, however, that one of the main points of this parable is the fact that this man who had incredible wealth ignored Lazarus, who suffered terribly right at the very gate to his household. I find myself wondering how many times the rich man ignored Lazarus. It’s hard to say. Did the rich man ever find himself in a position of actually stepping over Lazarus? I would say that’s very likely. Did the rich man ever once actually looked Lazarus in the eyes? I doubt it. The rich man had become so complacent with his wealth and his comfortable life that he could no longer even see Lazarus. And in the process, he lost a very important part of his own humanity: the capacity to show compassion to others.

After the dramatic reversal of the two men’s fortunes, the rich man begs Abraham to send Lazarus to his brothers, to warn them not to make the same mistake he had made. Abraham’s reply is simple and to the point: “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them” (Lk. 16:29). The Scriptures have all the warning they need to learn what it means to put God’s mercy into practice toward others. But the rich man’s response is equally simple and blunt, “No, father Abraham” (Lk. 16:30). The rich man knew that they wouldn’t pay any more attention to Moses and the prophets than he had. And I think this is another of Jesus’ lessons in this parable. This man would have been respected by his community. And yet, in reality, his great wealth made him deaf to the clear and repeated call of the Scriptures to share what we have generously—especially with those who are poor, or hurting, or vulnerable, or in any kind of need.

We still have Moses and the prophets, but I’m not sure we do any better job hearing them than the rich man or his brothers. We also have Jesus and the apostles, but I think it’s easy for us to ignore them as well. So what do we have, or perhaps better, whom do we have who can teach us to share what we have generously? We have Lazarus. In fact, we have many Lazaruses all around us. But the question we face is whether our humanity is still intact enough that they can help us. In the parable from our Gospel lesson, in spite of the fact that the rich man begged for Abraham to “send Lazarus” to help him, Abraham explained that he could not help. We might say that the rich man already had his chance to learn from Lazarus, and he ignored the lesson. But we still have a chance to learn from the Lazaruses of our world.

So how can the poor, the hurting, and those who have been cast out in our world teach us how to share ourselves generously? They are our prophets and apostles because they teach us that the life that is truly worth living always has been and always will be characterized by compassion and generosity. Although Lazarus could not help the rich man who ignored his plight, I think perhaps he might help us. I think he can point us to the Lazaruses all around us, poor and oppressed and outcast people who represent opportunities for us to share our mercy and compassion. When we take the time to notice them and do something to help them, we have the chance to be converted to a life of sharing with those in need. When we “find Lazarus” in the least and the lost and the left out among us, we have the chance to recovery our own humanity.

The Waking Dreamer