Seize the Day!!

Pentecost 18C
Amos 6:1-7             1 Timothy 6:11-19           Luke 16:19-31

When I was a little girl, most Bible storybooks didn’t appeal to me.  The pictures too often featured ethereal personages with long beards and old-fashioned clothing.  They were not nearly as vivid and exciting as the super-heroes depicted in my ten-cent comic books — Wonder Woman, Captain Marvel, and my personal favorites, Batman and Robin.

But all of that changed when I bought the Classics Comics version of the Old Testament, which, back then, cost the princely sum of fifty cents.  In those pages the Bible came alive in full-color, larger-than-life illustrations: there were real men hauling gigantic stones to build the pyramids, families slogging through the Red Sea, and soldiers blaring their horns outside the walls of Jericho.  Real women, too.  Pharaoh’s daughter rescuing Moses and the Queen of Sheba, astride a camel and bedecked in royal finery.

This may explain why I often view Bible stories through the pop-art lens of my childhood.   So it was when I first read today’s lessons, especially that from Amos and the parable from Luke.  From Amos’s dire warning we get a clear picture of the frivolous rich who indulge in such acts as lying on beds of ivory, singing idle songs, and drinking wine from bowls.  Why, some even improvise on instruments of music.  They glory in anointing themselves with oils, but are heedless of the “ruin of Joseph.” [Amos 6:6] The evocative imagery of this passage sets the stage for today’s parable from Luke.

Visualize what a modern comic book illustrator or Disney cartoonist would do with the rich man and the beggar.  Dressed in regal purple, a symbol of the highest class, the rich man gorges on sumptuous food, satisfying his appetite for anything his heart or palate desires, indifferent or totally oblivious to conditions just outside his impressive gate.  His whole demeanor is characterized by arrogance and extravagance.

By contrast, imagine the pitiful, starving Lazarus, his filthy, emaciated body covered with oozing sores.  Desperate for even a crumb from the rich man’s table, he is set upon by dogs.

Remembering that in Jesus’ time wealth was viewed as a symbol of God’s favor,  we realize that Lazarus was the lowest of the lowly. In the parable Jesus sets up a deliberate contrast between the two men.  And like most good stories, the theme involves a dramatic reversal of fortune, one worthy of a medieval morality play.

Both men die.   To the rich man’s great surprise, Lazarus is “carried away by angels to be with Abraham” [Luke 16:22], while he himself, in what we regard as a nice piece of poetic justice, is consigned to the tormenting flames of Hades.  Even there, he doesn’t “get it”—regarding Lazarus, still, as an underling, fit only to serve him by bringing him water or running his errands.

Despite the rich man’s pleas to Abraham, an impassable chasm yawns between him and salvation.   Finally he begs Abraham to send Lazarus to warn his five brothers of the terrible fate they, too, may face.

Abraham reminds the rich man that his brothers still have time to avail themselves of the wisdom of Moses and the prophets if only they will listen.  Knowing his brothers and suspecting that their values are the same as his, he says, “No father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” [Luke 16:30]

Abraham points out that if the brothers are not currently in the habit of heeding Moses and the prophets, they are unlikely to be convinced even by someone returning from the dead.

Today’s parable is a cautionary tale, indeed.   The rich man exemplifies a “carpe diem” philosophy—“Seize the day” —and models the epicurean vision of “Eat, drink, and be merry.”   He gives little or no thought to others or their needs—and certainly none to his ultimate end.

Few stories are as satisfying as those which involve the fall of the mighty.  Just as children revel in the defeat of cartoon “bad guys,” we derive pleasure and satisfaction from the just punishment of the rich man.

Up until we come to the shocked realization that so often we are like the brothers, heedless of the teachings of Moses and the prophets and even those of a crucified man who did, indeed, return from the dead.

We have two ways to deal with this epiphany.  We can wallow in the guilt of our self-indulgence and failure to see or attend to the Lazaruses of our world.  But guilt is not a redemptive choice unless it leads to amendment of life.
 
The other choice is to “seize the day” — not by living intemperately or selfishly, but by opening our eyes to the world around us.  A world that cries out for our attention and our action.  A world as close as the sidewalk outside these doors and as distant as the deserts of Africa.

Recently I read the autobiography of a rich man, John Wood, who joined Microsoft in 1991 and ultimately served as their Director of Business Development for the Greater China region.  It is titled Leaving Microsoft to Change the World.  John Wood, however, did not set out to change the world, but he did seize the day.  One very important day.

He was in Nepal on a hiking vacation, when he and his guide visited an elementary school, where seventy students were crammed into each room.  Listen to this excerpt from his book:

We visited each of the eight classrooms; all were equally packed .  As we entered, every student stood, without prompting, and yelled, “Good morning, sir,” in perfect English. The headmaster next took us to the school’s library.  A sign outside the door proudly announced SCHOOL LIBRARY, but inside, the room was empty and the only thing covering the walls was one old, dog-eared world map.  It showed, ten years after the fall of the Iron Curtain, the Soviet Union, East Germany, Yugoslavia, and other countries that had ceased to exist.  The books were noticeable only in their absence.

I phrased my question in the most polite way possible: “This is a beautiful library room.  Thank you for showing it to me.  I have only one question.  Where, exactly, are your books?”
 
The headmaster stepped out of the room and began yelling.  A teacher appeared with the one key to the rusty padlock on the cabinet where the books were locked up.

The headmaster explained.  Books were considered precious.  The school had so few that the teachers did not want to risk the children damaging them.  I wondered how a book could impart knowledge if it was locked up, but kept my thoughts to myself.

My heart sank as the school’s treasure trove was revealed.  A Danielle Steel romance with a couple locked in passionate and semi-clothed embrace on the front cover.  A thick Umberto Eco novel, written in Italian.  The Lonely Planet Guide to Mongolia.  And what children’s library would be complete without Finnegans Wake?  The books appeared to be backpacker castoffs that would be inaccessible (both physically and intellectually) to young students.

I asked about the school’s enrollment and learned there were 450 students.  Four hundred fifty kids without books.  How could this be happening in a world with such an abundance of material goods?

Without prompting, the headmaster then said: “Yes, I can see that you also realize that this is a very big problem.  We wish to inculcate in our students the habit of reading.  But that is impossible when this is all we have.”

I thought that any educator who used the word inculcate in a sentence deserved to have better teaching materials.  I wanted to help, but would it be considered condescending if I offered?  The headmaster saved me the trouble of thinking this through.  His next sentence would forever change the course of my life: “Perhaps, sir, you will someday come back with books.” [Wood, pp.9-10]

And that is exactly what John Wood did, returning with thousands of books that he’d collected from family and friends bundled on the back of a yak. 

From that small beginning, Wood made the decision to leave Microsoft and create Room to Read.  His organization has since donated more that 1.2 million books all over the world, has established 2,600 libraries and 200 schools and has sent 1,700 girls to school on scholarship.  From the impulse of one rich man who decided one day to deal with the “Lazarus” at his feet, his organization ultimately has touched the lives of 875,000 children with the lifelong gift of education.

Today’s reading from 1 Timothy lays out a clear path for us.  The verse which immediately precedes the passage read this morning is this: “For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, and in their eagerness to be rich some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pains.” [1Timothy 6:10]  Paul admonishes us, instead, to “pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, gentleness” [1 Timothy 6:11] and to “take hold of the eternal life.” [1 Timothy 6:12].

Like the rich man and like John Wood, we have a choice.  We can, as Paul says, set our hopes on the “uncertainty of riches” or we can “be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share . . . so that [we] may take hold of the life that really is life.” [1 Timothy 6:17-19]

 The reality is that we are not dealing with cartoon heroes and villains.  Instead, we are confronted daily by the flesh-and-blood Lazaruses on our doorstep.

John Wood’s question becomes ours: “How could this be happening in a world with such an abundance of material goods?”

Will we rise from lounging on our couches, as Amos says, to “fight the good fight”? [1 Timothy 6:12]  Will we seize this and every day for good?

It is too late for the rich man, but it is not too late for us.  By our actions, you see, we are writing the end of the story.

AMEN.

Laura Shoffner
September 30, 2007


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