Luke 16:19-31 · The Rich Man And Lazarus
Mission to Unbelievers
Luke 16:19-31
Sermon
by Wallace H. Kirby
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Dives, if we can take tradition’s name for him, first wanted personal relief from his eternal torments. But when Father Abraham, God’s stand-in, refused, Dives asked for a weekend pass to return and warn his brothers. Request denied! Abraham simply said that Moses and the prophets were sufficient. And even if Abraham should go himself, it would not lead Dives’ brothers to repentance. They would only see it as an extraordinary event making no claim upon their lives.

So Dives and his brothers, and their modern counterparts, continue in unbelief. For them there is no ultimate, personal meaning to life, even though with the poet Hardy, they rush to the stable on Christmas Eve to see if it were true that the animals knelt in reverence, "hoping it might be so." Dives, his family and present company would write a different letter to that little girl and to themselves: "No, Virginia - there is no Santa Claus."

Ecclesiastes, although evidencing only a mild case of what to Bertrand Russell becomes a sense of "slow, sure doom ... pitiless and dark," holds the ethical line. Like Frederick Robertson’s doubting moment, the sense of "ought" retains its force even when the comforts of theology crumble. We read Albert Camus similarly in our own day. God never seemed to fall into place for this sensitive author, although his writings make clear that he did his homework on the issues. He did not give them sophomoric or cavalier dismissal. Yet ethics, personal and social, were at the heart of Camus’ concerns. He looked to the needs of his neighbor, even though he had no ultimate reason for doing so. Against Dostoyevski, ancient and contemporary unbelievers do not agree that the absence of belief destroys what Luke calls "Moses and the prophets."

Dives and his brothers are of another unbelieving type. Perhaps they did give outward evidence of belief - worship at the Temple, ceremonial propriety, and the various prayers of orthodoxy. But inwardly, theirs was a practical atheism, an unbelief that allowed them callous insensivity toward injustice. Lazarus, on the lower edge of that marginal society, lay at the doorstep day after day, and they made no move to minister to his needs - still less to raise the question about social and economic arrangements that allow such suffering. These unbelievers make a different conclusion of their unbelief: there is no claim other than that which we happen to prefer at the moment. Cole Porter wrote their song: "Anything Goes."

Christians are called to care about both types of unbelievers. It will not do for us to thunder against the atheists of our day either the admirable or the despicable sort. Rather, in terms of our Lukan passage, we are called to witness to these persons. We are to be the sufficient "Moses and the prophets" to them. One of the great chapters in church history of the early centuries is the work of the Apologists. The term is unfortunate for they were not saying, "I’m sorry, but I’m a Christian." What they were saying was that Christianity made real sense out of life and that one would neglect it at his or her peril. We contemporary Christians need to be "apologists" in word and deed in today’s descendants of the Ecclesiastes tradition, and of Dives and his brothers - the unbelieving crowd.

I

One vital element of this effort is an intellectually respectable presentation of the faith. How many sensitive and thoughtful persons do we lose when we insist on presenting Christianity in forms and styles that do not speak to today’s mind-set? A young man came to my office who had been feeling the claim of God upon his life. He was reading the New Testament and had gotten into the Book of Revelation, where his university-trained mind simply boggled. Taken straight and without context, he could have none of the bizarre mood of Revelation. He saw no options other than the Hal Lindsay fantasies, or outright rejection. Some discussion about the background and context of Revelation began to offer him a more believable alternative. He went home with a commentary under his arm, prepared for mature belief, courtesy of modern historical, literary criticism. But how many in the pew, or watching the Bible-thumper on TV, or listening to us gossip the gospel, are put off by our unacceptable presentations?

One of the slogans of ecumenical Christianity has been, "The Needs of the World Write the Agenda." The meaning is that the church must learn to listen carefully to the concerns of the world as it stakes out its program and direction; otherwise, it will be like those Scouts who help old ladies cross streets they don’t want to cross in the first place. In another sense, the world sets the agenda of apologetics - of presenting the faith as a believable possibility. The worldly agenda today is governed by reason and science. Granted that science forfeits its name when it preaches the dogmas of naturalism; and granted that what is reasonable to one person is often quite unreasonable to another. Yet is is important to understand that intelligent faith-presenting must go through science and the tests of human reason, not around them, if we are going to make lasting contact with thoughtful persons in today’s world.

A bright, young graduate student in a scientific field was part of a student worship service during the holidays. In his talk he spoke about evolution as if it was totally incompatible with faith. He eyed the congregation to detect signs of hostility or shock. What a tragedy that this son of the church had been allowed to go through the church school and confirmation without having been helped to make an enriching combination of Darwin and the faith! I notice that now he has entered his vocation after graduation and has requested that his name be placed on the "withdrawn by personal request" list.

I am sure the conservative churches are about the only ones that are growing. Dean Kelley’s Why Conservative Churches Are Growing told us all about it ten years ago. But one does wonder if they are really reaching out to claim new Christians or are instead just re-cycling those from other congregations and denominations? Perhaps the market does not exist for an intelligent presentation of the faith, one that asks no sacrifice of contemporary mind-set and does not call us to think about the faith in the categories of by-gone times. I choose to believe that there will always be Dives and his brothers around, and that we are called to make the faith a believable option to them, too.

II

Another necessary witness to unbelief will be the involvement of the church to the unbelieving poor. Poverty takes more than its physical toll; it diminishes one’s ability to believe. The Book of James says that if we tell the poor, "Go in peace, be warmed and filled," without making effort to feed and clothe the poor, then there is a death-quality about our belief. "So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead."

In my office I have a copy of the 1908 Discipline of The Methodist Episcopal Church. To me it is a very important edition of that document which we Methodists revise and publish every four years. In 1908 the General Conference of our church adopted a Social Creed to be companion to our other theological statements. This was an attempt to specify the meaning of the gospel as it relates to economic, industrial, international and family concern. As an outgrowth of the Social Gospel Movement, it is an impressive contention that our faith has irrefutable social meanings.

It would be nice to be able to say that the struggle for the recognition of the social implications of the gospel has been won since that 1908 effort. But the fact is that in no Christian tradition has this attempt overcome its critics, inside and outside the church. Recently American Roman Catholic Bishops released a preliminary statement on the economy. Already critical voices have been raised, not only by those who disagree with their specific diagnoses; some raise the issue of the Bishops’ right to speak about the economy in the first place! Apparently the sense of rigid separation between faith and society is still held by many persons.

There is nothing inherent in Christian faith, or even elevation to the episcopacy, that dispenses special wisdom about economic or other-worldly matters. Being Christian makes us neither more nor less intelligent about such things. But it is our calling to attempt the mesh between faith and matters of justice and welfare in the world. The price of not doing so is certainly evangelistic: those crushed or confined by our present economic, political or cultural systems will turn a deaf ear to our Christ-presenting.

A young Lutheran pastor has been turned out of his pulpit by his Bishop in an industrial city in the midwest. Apparently he identified himself in sermon and deeds with a group that was challenging the justice of plant closings in his city. This group, supposedly, has been responsible for some actions that were calculated to embarrass and obstruct a system that takes little regard for decisions bringing unemployment and hopelessness upon workers. One need not defend this pastor’s style or tactics. Perhaps his Bishop had no other choice. But it is clear that his witness threatens any comfortable assumptions that we may have about the separation of belief from worldly witness. Such Amos-like courage may catch the hearts and minds of more of the unbelieving victims of our system than might mass crusades in outdoor stadiums.

III

Our final point of witness to unbelief will be the quality of our own lives. Perhaps this is the most crucial of all. How often we spoil the faith for someone else by the miserable way we live and behave! Nietzsche got in his digs on this: he said that Christians would have to look more redeemed before he would believe. And how powerfully we communicate the faith by the admirable quality of our life. One man once said of his brother, "He is an everlasting barrier between me and atheism."

Yet the worst thing we can do is attempt a program of apologia by winsome personal example. The result will turn out to be a gross failure. Haven’t we had enough of those Christians whose bubbly happiness and cheerful helpfulness seems more like Mary Poppins than Mary Magnificat? These Christians might seem more real and more believable if we could think that they sometimes were angry - complete with heated monologue, and occasionally had a moment of theological despair, accompanied by thoughts of joining The Ethical Culture Society.

Needed as is our vibrant personal witness, it will work better as a by-product of our own commitment, with a large dose of self-forgetfulness thrown in. In reality, we’re always "on" in this department and we never know when the curtain goes up for someone else. But the more we try to force it, the less effective our witness becomes.

In The Hope of Glory, John Coburn tells of Arthur Lichtenberger, former presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, serving in retirement on the faculty of Episcopal Theological Seminary in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Bishop Lichtenberger was ill with Parkinson’s disease, seriously affecting his walking and his speech. One cold February day Coburn was in a low mood. He happened to see Bishop Lichtenberger, on his wife’s arm, shuffling along the icy walk. It was a refreshment of faith for John Coburn: "All I could do was rejoice in them." Quite likely, Bishop Lichtenberger never knew what he meant to John Coburn’s spirit that bitter, winter day.

As unforced as this witness must be, it cannot be taken lightly by any who are concerned to witness to the faith by the quality of our lives. Personal integrity, humbleness, an affirming spirit, honesty, faithfulness to commitment to marriage and family, hard work - it seems strange to need to cite such qualities. But they will be necessary to effective witness through our personal lives. Edward R. Murrow has been gone for some time now. Some of us remember him for his contributions to the tough issues involved in television broadcasting. When few were eager, he took on Senator Joseph McCarthy, helping to reduce that senator’s oppressive influence. In a biography of Murrow we learn that he told his future wife that what she appreciated in him was due to a handicapped college speech teacher, Ida Lou Anderson:

She taught me one must have more than a good bluff to really live. I owe the ability to live to her, and to her you owe the things you like in me. She calls me her masterpiece.

Christian faith directed to the unbelieving sorts like Dives, his brother, and their contemporary counterparts, will have something of that which marked the life of ida Lou Anderson: admirable personal qualities that help to open the doorway to belief, trust, and life.

CSS Publishing Company, If Only..., by Wallace H. Kirby