The following sermon was delivered by the Reverend John W. Howe, Rector of Truro Episcopal Church, Fairfax, Virginia, on September 28, 1980. The sermon is entitled, Dives and Lazarus. 

We come to another one of the mighty parables of the Lord Jesus this morning, and some of you will remember feeling a bit of difficulty last week because the story last week was so confusing to us. The story of the unrighteous servant, and we appreciated Neil taking us through it so very carefully, so helpfully. I suspect that some of you this morning are feeling difficulty because this parable is so blatantly clear.

Mark Twain once said, it's not the things I don't understand in the Bible that trouble me, it's the things I do understand. After the 7.30 service, one of the men came up to me and said, you guys must be getting ready for stewardship time. I need to assure you that we did not invent the lectionary.

We're simply giving you what is scheduled for the day. On the surface of things, the story is so obvious, so painfully obvious. We have here a rich man, sometimes called dives from the Latin word for rich or wealthy.

He's filthy wealthy. He's clothed in purple, which you know is the color of royalty. He parades about like a king.

Fine linens. He's feasting sumptuously, and Jesus says, every day. You know, that's not steak once a month.

That's every day, feasting sumptuously, surrounded by servants cared for, his every need attended to. And utterly failing, apparently, to do the very thing that we just heard read from Amos. The thing which Amos and all the prophets command.

Namely, use some of that wealth, use some of those riches to care for the poor, the oppressed, those in need on every side. He doesn't have to look very far. Right there at his gate is one of the most pitiful.

A beggar, Lazarus, a sick, destitute, very, very poor man, running sores all over his body, combing through the garbage, looking for some kind of a handout, receiving nothing. And soon enough, both men die. The rich man goes to hell.

And Lazarus goes to heaven. And even more than that, a rather interesting phrase, it says, to Abraham's bosom. In other words, into the most intimate fellowship with the faithful.

Abraham being the father of the faithful. You think of the picture of some of the disciples leaning against Jesus' breast at the Lord's Supper. And you have a similar picture here.

Lazarus, this poor, miserable wretch, leaning against Abraham himself, the father of the faithful. So the tables are completely turned. The poor man is vindicated, rewarded, blessed eternally.

The rich man gets it in the teeth. And as Edna would love to say, things are not as they appear to be. The moral of the story, you better watch out.

God sees you when you're sleeping. He knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good.

So be good for goodness sake. You better use what you have for others here and now, or you'll have a very long time to wish you had. Just wait a moment.

It doesn't say that the rich man gave nothing to Lazarus. If you didn't follow along, you might care to at this point. It does not say that.

You can read that in. It may be that Jesus intended us to sort of understand that, but it doesn't say that. It does not say the rich man gave nothing to Lazarus, and because he was so selfish, he went to hell.

It does not say that. You may suppose that, but you're arguing from silence, and it seems to me you may equally well suppose that he was very generous, if you're speculating. But either way, let me raise a very important question for you.

Are we suddenly to suppose that salvation is something we earn? By how you use your money, for instance. Is that what Jesus is trying to teach us?

Is that the point of the parable? That salvation is something you earn by what you do, by how you spend your money, by how you behave in this life. If it is, it is in total conflict with the rest of Scripture.

Because the whole witness of Scripture, Old and New Testament, and especially Jesus himself, is that salvation is the gift of God. You don't earn it in any way. You receive it by faith.

Right? Amen. You could contrast this little parable, or at least compare it, with everything in the preceding chapter.

Over and over and over, Jesus is at pains to make exactly this point. He tells three little stories in chapter 15. Each one of them has exactly the same point.

He talks about the lost sheep. And the good shepherd goes out to find his sheep. And when he finds it, he calls everybody together and he says, Rejoice with me, for my sheep was lost and I found him.

That's supposed to be a parable of salvation. What did the sheep contribute to the process? He knew how to get lost.

The shepherd goes and finds him. He turns right around and tells us about a woman who diligently searches, Keeps on searching until she finds her lost coin. Again, rejoice with me.

My coin was lost. I've found it. And if you haven't gotten the point yet, he tells us about the prodigal son.

Rises up and willfully becomes selfish and somewhat rebellious. Takes his inheritance, goes off and spends it on himself, on harlotry, on feasting. Finally comes to his senses.

His father, all the meanwhile, has been patiently longing for him When he spies him on the horizon, he runs to embrace him. No condemnation. Throws his arms around him.

Ring on his finger. Shoes on his feet. Robe on his back.

Slay the fatted calf. Have a party. My son was lost.

And he's been found. What did the son contribute to the process? He knew how to get lost.

Salvation is the gift of God. Now, you might argue, and a lot of people do argue, that we can sort of work backward. That if you suppose that the rich man was a stingy wretch, he kept everything to himself, that that simply demonstrates that he didn't have any faith.

In other words, we agree salvation is the gift of God by faith, but the fact that he was so selfish proves that he didn't have any. That's a fairly tricky argument, because I need to raise the question, how much does his character have to be changed in order to demonstrate his faith? Right?

In other words, I put my faith in Christ in the first place because I know I'm a sinner. And because I go on being a sinner, I need a Savior. And I hope and expect that, in fact, he will begin to change me.

But it becomes a very tricky business to try to measure the amount of change that's necessary to prove that my faith is genuine. That's exactly the dilemma the Puritans got themselves into. They said, sainthood has to be visible.

And that raises the question, how visible? How much do I have to be changed in order to prove that I'm really trusting God? That comes close.

I think we're nibbling all around the point, but we haven't quite got to it. I want to suggest to you that the real impact of this parable is something a good deal more subtle. Notice in Luke 16 and verse 14 that the whole discussion, last week's parable of the unrighteous steward, this week's story of the rich man and Lazarus, the whole thing is addressed to the Pharisees.

And you may remember that Jesus' severest words are consistently addressed to the Pharisees, aren't they? The professionally religious. Joe and I always wince just a little bit at that point.

But why? What is Jesus' quarrel with the Pharisees? It's their self-righteousness.

Right? It's their self-righteousness. Now look at verse 14.

It says, The Pharisees, who were lovers of money, heard all of 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.

You are those who justify yourselves before men. the Pharisees' sense of self-righteousness wasn't completely without warrant they were good people they bent over backward to be good people I guarantee you would like to have one for your neighbor in terms of his care and consideration of your property rights and all the sort of civil responsibility that goes with it beyond that And one of the things that they prided themselves most on was their generosity. The law required that they tithe a certain amount of their increase.

They tithed everything and went beyond it. And they took great pride in how much they gave away. But it says here, they're lovers of money.

How do you put those two together? It comes down to a presupposition that runs underneath the whole story. And once you see it, it's going to really change it for you.

The Pharisees were operating on a presupposition that those with whom God is pleased will prosper. Say that again. Those with whom God is well pleased will prosper here on earth.

Now that puts a whole different light on their love of money, doesn't it? The fact that I've got these gorgeous clothes, these many servants, this sumptuous feast on my table, demonstrates not simply that I'm a clever businessman, but that I'm absolutely righteous before God. That's what I take pride in, you see.

And I add to it by taking pride in what I do with my money. All the good works that I perform. That just adds to my sense of self-achievement and self-worth.

It's remarkable to me how that very teaching is creeping its way back into the church today. The brand of teaching that says, Malcolm touched on this a couple of weeks ago, we're finding it in all sorts of ways, that if you are right with God and if you have enough faith, you will be of necessity healthy, wealthy, and wise. or at least smug.

What are we saying? That you can buy, you can earn not only your health but your prosperity. Right?

Have any of you ever run into that teaching? That's fairly difficult to reconcile with a Savior who leaves behind his grandeur and says of himself, I don't even have a place to lay my head. Or with a Saint Paul who says, I have suffered the loss of all things in order that I might gain Christ.

But we're hearing that taught. God wills your prosperity. Believe God hard enough and everything you touch will turn to gold.

That is basically what the Pharisees believed. God is pleased with us. and see how we prosper.

So I want to suggest to you that underneath this story is a much more subtle point. It's not simply what the rich man did or did not do with his money, but it's his whole attitude toward it and in the process toward himself, toward his relationship with God. Let me put it this way.

Scripture nowhere teaches that having wealth in and of itself is a bad thing. It's what you do with your wealth that matters. But Jesus takes very great pains here and elsewhere to deny the opposite teaching.

That having wealth is in and of itself a good thing. That it's a sign of God's favor. That financial success is a corollary of righteousness.

He says, no, good people sometimes get sick. Good people sometimes lose their jobs. Good people are sometimes oppressed.

Good people sometimes suffer. And you cannot take a reading on your relationship with God by measuring your prosperity here on earth. To begin to see the shock of this parable, that here is this wretch, this gutter invalid, this beggar, who everybody knows obviously is a sinner, Otherwise, why would God let that happen to him?

And where does he go? Abraham's bosom. And here's this wealthy Pharisee, this good man, apparently.

And where does he go? To the other place. What a shock.

There are several implications of this. First of all, you've got to see this life in the light of eternity. You've got to see this life in the light of eternity.

The righting of wrongs, the redressing of grievances, the balancing of inequalities will never be complete within the framework of this life. The final answer to the problem of suffering is, I consider that the sufferings of this present age aren't even worth comparing with the glory that's to be revealed to us. You can't look for perfect justice within the framework of this life.

But secondly, when this parable finally takes its proper place in the totality of Jesus' teaching, it's quite clear that Lazarus doesn't go to heaven because he's earned it, but because it's the gift of God which he accepted by faith. In fact, the very name Lazarus means God helps. He allows God to help him.

And the rich man doesn't go to hell simply because he deserves it. All of us deserve it. He goes to hell because rather than receiving the help from God, he puts his trust in himself.

Have you ever seen someone whose society applauds for all of his good deeds, all of his generosity, all of his humanitarian effort, whose attitude toward God is, I don't need any help, thank you very much. I'm doing just fine. I would ask you, which is worse in the final analysis?

To be a stingy hoarder or to be a sanctimonious do-gooder? I'm not sure God makes a huge distinction. Rather more chilling, isn't it?

See, the real impact of the parable is to be once more a call to each one of us. If you have wealth, by all means, God's will for you is to use it generously. But regardless of how much you have or don't have, to recognize that salvation is not what I do for myself, but what I can never do for myself, what I receive by faith from Him.

John Wesley put it this way. He said, I don't do good works in order to get to heaven, but because by God's grace I'm going to heaven, I try to do good works. let's bow our heads Father keep us from smug self-satisfaction forgive us for even a moment's supposition that because we as a people are so incredibly wealthy, you value us more than those in Uganda or China or Cambodia or Chile.

Or because some of us here are more successful in whatever our business might be than others around us, that we've somehow earned Your favor. Lord, we would receive Your mercy, Your love and Your forgiveness. And again, with Your help, we would seek to be as gracious to others with what You've entrusted to us as You have been to us.

For Jesus' sake. Amen.