Disciple: Two Golden Rules
by the Rt. Rev. Sam Rodman
There are two versions of the Golden Rule. You know them both: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” which is Jesus’ version. And the other version: “The one who has the most gold makes the rules.” I am not sure who this latter version is attributed to, but all too often it feels like this version of the Golden Rule has the upper hand.
The parable of the rich man and Lazarus is said by some to be an extension of the parables of the lost and found, like the lost sheep, the lost coin and the lost son. In this instance, a man’s fixation on wealth, to the exclusion of his neighbor, causes him to lose his way and, ultimately, to lose his soul. Not a pretty picture.
[Closing the chasm of white supremacy as part of Becoming Beloved Community is lifelong work. In our diocese, that work includes Racial Equity Institute trainings, like those funded by Racial Equity Cabarrus, a group cofounded by All Saints’, Concord (below), and youth initiatives, like the recent Journey to Wilmington pilgrimage, which included a visit and prayer service at the 1898 memorial (right). File photos]
In Jesus’ parable, the rich man is not named. Lazarus is. But in the wider Christian tradition, the rich man has been given a name. He is called Dives, which is actually not a name, but the Latin translation of “a rich man.” We have a tendency to want to ascribe a name to this man to personalize him but also to distance ourselves from him. We want to persuade ourselves that we are not the person in the story, because we don’t want to end up the way he does.
But the point of the parable is to ask ourselves the harder question: In what way might I be like the rich man in this story? The parable is a parable of privilege, and it is a parable about power. It is a story of systemic injustice, not just the story of two individuals. If we dig deeper, it is also a story of the intersectionality between poverty, discrimination and oppression.
THE HARD QUESTIONS
So what do we do with this story? We might start by asking ourselves the hard questions. In what way have I used certain advantages and privileges to ignore the pain of others and insulate myself from the great divide between the rich and the poor? Who have I ignored? Who have I not seen? How have I oppressed my brother or sister?
The parable invites us to face these harder questions, even as we recognize the problem is larger than a broken relationship between two children of God. This parable is about a gap between the rich and the poor, a divide that can seem impossible to cross.
When I was serving in another diocese, the bishop asked several of us to recommend a book for the whole diocese to read during Lent. He wanted the subject of the book to address a challenging topic. We chose poverty, and the book we invited people to read and study was a book called The Rich and the Rest of Us by Cornel West and Tavis Smiley.
The book traced the widening gap in our country between the haves and the have nots, and it outlined and underscored the connections between poverty and racial discrimination. It was a fairly direct and eye-opening analysis of the growing gap and increasing tensions between what we have come to call the 99% and the 1%.
The book was not well received. Some people took exception to its title. Some people of privilege felt threatened by the analysis and by the fact the authors were not afraid to call out the systemic patterns that have led to this historic gap, one we might call a great chasm.
The image, in the parable, of the afterlife and the gap between heaven and hell mirrors the image of the gap we have created between those with advantages and privilege and those who have been placed at a distinct disadvantage. Historically, we have tried to compensate for this reality by a myth we have called the American Dream, the possibility that anyone, under any circumstances, could rise above their disadvantage and through perseverance and hard work overcome this gap and beat the system.
In reality, this myth has perpetuated oppression. The truth of our context is more accurately captured in the words of Billie Holiday in her song “God Bless the Child.” “Them that’s got gets more, while the weak ones fade, empty pockets don’t ever make the grade …”
FACING THE GREAT CHASM
The parable of the rich man and Lazarus calls us out, not just individually, but as a community. This is our problem, this is our challenge, and this is our great chasm.
And Jesus is our hope. We cannot cross this divide, but he already has. We cannot heal this division, but he is showing us the way. We cannot dismantle the systems of oppression without the liberating power of the gospel, but this is Jesus’ mission, his movement, and we are part of it. It is a movement of reconciliation, and we are part of it.
Consider the request the rich man makes to Father Abraham: “Send Lazarus to my brothers, to warn them.” The reality is that Jesus himself was raised from the dead to help us understand, believe and trust that with God, even the impossible becomes possible.
The Rev. Tyrone Fowlkes is rector of St. Mark’s, Raleigh, and he introduced me to a device when reading the gospel stories. He said it can sometimes be instructive to reverse the order, to read them backwards. In this parable, that would mean starting with the heavenly scene from the afterlife and then moving back to what happens here on earth. This reversal is the path that Jesus follows. He leaves heaven to come to earth, to walk among us, to show us the way of love, of radical welcome, of deep connection, of reconciliation and of beloved community.
We might call this parable a story of the failure to become beloved community. But what if Jesus’ words are not just of judgment but of invitation? What if the parable is opening our eyes to see our neighbor in need? What if the story is the first step in exposing and then dismantling privilege?
The intersection of poverty and race shows us that white supremacy and white power are the systemic evils that have created this gap. It is not enough just to change individual behaviors. But changing our own behaviors can begin to bring about beloved community. And Becoming Beloved Community is the healthy systemic alternative to the great chasm. Becoming Beloved Community is what reconciliation can look like.
Jesus is the one who invites us to Become Beloved Community. We are all invited to become apostles in this movement and to commit ourselves to be the change, to bring about the change and to become the change we need to see in the world.
I came across this prayer on Facebook, of all places. It is a powerful adaptation of the Serenity Prayer:
“God grant me the patience to accept the systems I cannot change, today. The courage to strategically enact progress when I know I can, and the wisdom to know that despite structural oppression, I can make a difference.”
Becoming Beloved Community is making a difference. Seeing the Lazarus at our gate is making a difference. Our call is to see the ways in which we have helped, actively or passively, to oppress another person and vowing to change our pattern. These changes are the precursors of true reconciliation.
Jesus is with us on this journey. Jesus is still telling parables that open our eyes. Jesus is still giving us hearts to hope and hands to heal.
Last fall, I was at a Bible study with members of the Moravian Church. We were meeting to try and deepen the connection between our two communions. This is also part of our work of collaboration and reconciliation. The verse we read together was from Jeremiah 24:7. We were asked to share the word that spoke to us from the passage, and instead of a word, I shared the numbers from the citation 24:7. Jesus is with us 24:7 in this mission of systemic change. It is the power of his love that energizes and animates us to be creative strategists for change.
Jesus is the one who finds the lost and brings them back into the fold. Building beloved community is one way we can walk with Jesus, work alongside him and be agents for change. All of these are steps on the journey of reconciliation. It can feel, at times, like crossing a great chasm, but Jesus invites us to remember the way of love is stronger than death; it can bridge the widest gap, and it can lead us not only to find what we have lost but to find one another, to reconcile and reunite as one beloved community.
The Rich Man and Lazarus
“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
The Rt. Rev. Sam Rodman is the XII Bishop of the Diocese of North Carolina.
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