Updated: Sep 29, 2022
Sunday’s passage from the gospel of Luke tells the story of the rich man and Lazarus – one inside the gate of abundance and one outside, and invisible to the other. I began by saying “We’ve all seen him – we’ve all seen Lazarus.
He lies on a pile of newspapers outside a shop doorway, covered with a rough blanket, and rattles a few coins in a tin cup, asking for money.
Sometimes he’s sitting at the turn-in near Wal-Mart, holding his “will work for food” sign.
Sometimes he’s walking down the highway, carrying his groceries, looking back over his shoulder at oncoming cars, hoping to thumb a ride.
Sometimes he’s a little child coming to school on a cold winter morning without a coat.
Sometimes he’s the young single Mom, with babies in tow, holding up the line as the checkers work with her WIC checks to buy food for her children.
Sometimes he’s the elderly woman living in a car in the parking lot at the local Wendy’s.
Sometimes he’s the elderly man who walks the streets carrying all he owns in a backpack, spending his day moving up and down the street and his nights wherever he can find a placed to sit for a while.
Sometimes Lazarus is the grandmother struggling on her meager Social Security check to care for her grandchildren whose parents have abandoned them for drugs.
We see Lazarus all over the world on the nightly news – black and white, male and female, old and young, Christian, Jew, Muslim and on and on. We see Lazarus every day of our lives, in all times and in all places. But do we see him? Do we really see him? Or do we miss him, and failing to see him, pass on by?
Jesus tells the story of the rich man and Lazarus not so much as a condemnation of wealth, or a lesson about wise use of our money. It’s a story of not seeing the obvious, and of failing to do anything about it.
If Jesus was on the side of the poor, and we are followers of Jesus, then we, too, are called to be on the side of the poor and to bless them, not just with words but also with heart-warming deeds of lovingkindness, like Jesus himself.
May God open our eyes to see the need all around us and move our hearts to respond in faithful ways.
Elizabeth
Hymns are such an important part of worship, supporting the themes of the day, touching hearts and stirring memories. While we all have our old, old favorites, it’s important to be open to new hymns, for they too bring a blessing.
Carolyn Winfrey Gillette writes beautiful hymn texts and sets them to familiar tunes, so we’re able to sing new thoughts with familiar notes! She considers this her special calling in ministry, and I’ve been blessed by her works again and again.
This coming Sunday’s gospel passage is Luke 16:19 -31, the story of the rich man and Lazarus. Gillette wrote this beautiful hymn text for the passage.
Outside My Gate, Outside My Door
Outside my gate, outside my door,
is someone there who's lost or poor?
Is someone there I do not see —
that I walk by — who has a need?
Is there a child who longs for care?
An older friend who needs a prayer?
Someone who seeks a helping hand?
A refugee new to this land?
Outside our church, is someone near
who cries in pain, who lives in fear?
Is someone close who has no way
to buy the food she needs this day?
Some gates are made of wood or stone,
And some are made of sin alone.
Some doors are made of greed and pride;
they also keep the poor outside.
As we look out, Christ, may we see
our common, shared humanity.
May we kneel down and serve you more
outside our gate, outside our door.
There’s so much need outside our “gates” and outside our “doors.” May God help us to see and hear and to respond to the need around us. I’m thankful for Gillette’s beautiful thoughts and pray they’ll find their way into our hearts.
Elizabeth
I came across this beautiful Anniversary Prayer for 9/11, by the Rev. Jill Duffield, former editor of the Presbyterian Outlook, now serving a church in Greensboro. I shared these comforting and healing words in worship yesterday, and share it again today as we reflect on that day 21 years ago.
Anniversary Prayer for 9/11
God of grace and God of glory, on this anniversary of the terrorist attacks of 9/11, grant us the wisdom to remember the lessons from that tragic day that make us more Christ-like. Drive away from us any vengeful urges, any hate-filled sentiment, any whisper from within or without that goads us to return evil for evil.
As we look back and recall where we were, who was with us and how we felt that fateful day, may those vivid memories compel us to acts of kindness, words of love and demonstrations of community.
As the world still heaves with violence, and war seems to never end, assure us, Prince of Peace, that ultimately crying and mourning will be no more. In the midst of suffering, our own and that of the world, speak again, Creator God, your Word of life and its goodness.
As we consider that fall day years ago, grant us the ability to cling to the examples of goodness that emerged out of the horror: strangers banding together to help one another, people lining up to donate blood, congregations opening their doors to offer respite for anyone and everyone, people offering comfort and care to those they knew and those they’d never met.
May these acts of mercy be the ripple that reverberates through history, revealing your sure power to bring redemption, reconciliation and resurrection out of the depths of death and despair.
When we mark anniversaries of sorrow, corporately or alone, may they be occasions to discern what truly matters, let go of what really doesn’t and recognize your grace, Almighty God, that pervades it all. In the name of Jesus, the light of the world, the Prince of Peace, the Good Shepherd, our friend and our helper, we pray. Amen.
I give thanks for the ministry of Jill Duffield and for the gifts of her words to bring comfort and healing and hope.
Elizabeth