CAMINANDO WITH JESUS: Gaining Our Sight

Brendan Murphy on September 25, 2019

Pentecost 16, Proper 21 | September 29, 2019

By the Rev. George Silides


CAMINANDO WITH JESUS is a series of reflections on the Sunday Gospel by clergy and laity from across the Diocese. 

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Jesus said,There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, `Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’ But Abraham said, `Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ He said, `Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house– for I have five brothers– that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ Abraham replied, `They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ He said, `No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ He said to him, `If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’

– Luke 16:19-31


We are all Dives, the rich man. Not that we are rich, but that we would rather not face the Lazarus-like conditions of our world and our communities. We are not bad people, but our story doesn’t say Dives was a bad person, either. But he was blind, or blissfully ignorant of the suffering outside his gate. His wealth was a security blanket, but also a prison; keeping out the troubles of the world, but keeping him from seeing the world he wanted no part of. We are encouraged every day in this country to be as independent and self-sufficient as possible. This is not the Jesus Way. Our Lord, and his apostles after him encouraged us to be as interdependent as possible upon our way, to depend upon each other to provide for building up of the Body both physically and spiritually through the sharing of our selves, our perspectives, our material and our spiritual gifts. I recall how Jesus sent out his disciples without money, or changes of clothes and to stay with those who invited them, to eat what was set before them—all to make the disciples dependent upon those to whom they were sent to announce the good news that “The Kingdom of God has come near you.” But more than that, this lack of material goods made it clear to those to whom the disciples were sent, that this Good News was the greater gift, that these “missionaries” brought no material advantage, but a “change in the traffic pattern.” Pilgrimages to Jerusalem, journeys to the center of power were less important than allowing God and God’s kingdom to take root in our hearts, where we are. Dives, and too often ourselves, use the security blanket of our hard-won comforts to isolate us from the gifts those without material means have to share. That comfortable space may be financial, may be our religious community, our cultural affiliation, or our family’s long history and position in the region.

Nowhere does it say that Dives did not earn his position, his wealth, his comfort and ease. But it does say he was blind to the needs of Lazarus at his gate. And as we read more closely, it appears that Dives hardly tries to see Lazarus in death. He makes no request to Lazarus, he makes no apology for his previous lack of care. Dives instead speaks only to Abraham, to request that he order Lazarus to do his bidding, to go to Dives’ brothers in warning of the fate that awaits them.

We remember the great and terrible parable of Matthew 25:31-46 where neither the “sheep” or the “goats” saw Jesus in his glory, but that their fate was determined by how they treated the poor whom they could see. If we are honest with ourselves, we will admit it takes hard work to see the face of Christ in some people, in some circumstances. We decide who are the deserving poor and who are not. Who are trying to take “advantage” of our generosity, who are not sufficiently thankful for our gifts of money, of clothing, of food. That is because before we can see our brothers and sisters as Christ, we must first see them as people. Not needs. Not problems to be solved. Not a negative that we might be able to fix into a positive. Because when we see the poor as a problem to be solved, we never see the gifts they have to share with us that may very well be the only solution to a problem in our own lives. A story: for many years I have worked in soup kitchens and homeless shelters. I have served a thousand meals through the kitchen window in these places. I thought I was doing a good thing—perhaps I was. But it was not until I joined a program in Claremont, California that I discovered the opportunity to SEE that God had been offering me for many years. In this program, anyone who brought food for the homeless had to eat with the homeless. No more “dump and run” to satisfy one’s conscience. No more helping at arm’s length. No more solving problems, only meeting people. Eating with people. Asking people who they are, what were their dreams, “what does that tattoo mean?” And sharing my story, my dreams, my fears, my needs. Sharing my Good News and hearing theirs.

Dives didn’t see Lazarus. It can be difficult to see Christ. We would rather not see the poor. We always say “look before you leap,” “watch where you are walking.” Sometimes it is only by NOT looking, but stepping out in faith—by walking straight into the lives of those who make us the most uncomfortable that we will finally lose our blindness, and gain our sight.

Caminante, son tus huellas el camino, y nada mĂĄs; caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar. – Antonio Machado

The Rev. George Silides is the rector of Holy Comforter, Burlington. 

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