The date is 587 BC. The place, Jerusalem. Zedekiah has been king for ten years. He was put in this position by Nebuchadnezzar,
king of Babylon. The Babylonian army has
already laid seize to Jerusalem twice, in 605 and 598. But now Zedekiah is stretching his wings and
testing the limits. The Babylonians are
back for a third and final time. They surround
the city and intend to tear downs its walls, burn its gates, destroy the
Temple, and lead every healthy survivor into captivity. It will be complete devastation.
The prophet Jeremiah warns the king and
the people about the consequences of what he deems “sinful behavior.” He proclaims God is going to use the
Babylonians to punish the people of Jerusalem for disobeying God. Jeremiah is also practical. He confronts Zedekiah seven different times,
telling the king it is foolish and folly to test the power of the Babylonian
army. Jeremiah gets very specific. He warns the king his eyes will be put out
and his sons killed if he continues to test his superior enemy. It is not a popular message, to say the
least, and it lands Jeremiah in the court prison at the king’s house.
In the
short run, Jeremiah’s preaching is one of gloom and doom. The fall of the city, the destruction of the
Temple, and people led into captivity is not a happy scenario. But Jeremiah also has a message for the long
run and it is one of hope. He looks at
the world through the words God spoke to him in 29:11: “I know the plans I have
for you, plans for welfare and not for harm, to give you a future and a
hope.” For Jeremiah, impending calamity
is the prospect of the near term, but he is bullish on the long term
future. Over and over, he says God will
lead the people back home to the land of Judah.
Jeremiah
is from the city of Anathoth, which is located about 2½ miles from the Temple. His ancestral home is now in the hands of the
besieging army. God speaks to Jeremiah,
saying his cousin is going to visit him at the prison. When he does, God says, tell him you want to
buy his field in Anathoth.
The
cousin appears and invokes an ancient Levitical law, asking Jeremiah to redeem
his field. The cousin has fallen on hard
times and sold the land, but God intentions for property to remain in the
family forever. The law requires a
relative, if able, to buy the land until the one who sold it can buy it back or
until the Year of Jubilee (which occurs every 49 years) when it will be
returned at no cost. Of course this law
does not apply to the Babylonians. There
is no guarantee it will ever come back into the possession of the people of Judah.
Jeremiah
recognizes immediately why God commands him to buy the field. His act will be a sign of hope, promising one
day the people will return from captivity.
He goes through a very public process to buy the field. Everyone knows an unpopular prophet in prison
is purchasing a piece of property occupied by a foreign army. Everyone must think him a dope. Jeremiah is concerned the transaction
documents be stored in a manner to preserve them for a long, long time. He wants them in tact when the hoped for day
arrives. Once all the paperwork is
complete, Jeremiah proclaims, “Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel:
Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be brought in this land.”
We
have an expression today, “Put your money where your mouth is.” Jeremiah reverses this. He uses his mouth to explain what he is doing
with his money and why he is doing it.
The prophet uses his wealth to promote hope.
Jesus
tells a parable many know. The story of
the Rich Man and Lazarus is easy to remember because of its retching details
and its ominous reversal of fortunes from this life to the next. It is tempting to construct a theology of the
afterlife based on this parable. Some
have. The reversal. The torment.
The suffering. The dividing
chasm. More than one commentator warns of the danger
of pushing the details of the parable too far.
So what should we to take away from it?
That
the poor beggar is given a name while the rich man remains anonymous is telling. This reversal certainly is intentional and
significant. In life, everyone knows the
names of the rich and powerful. Few, if
any, know the name of a homeless person scrapping to survive. That we are told this person’s name is
Lazarus tells us much about God’s love for every person and particular concern
for the poor and needy.
Notice
another detail. In spite of passing by
him every day and doing nothing to help him, the rich man also knows Lazarus’
name. Once in Hades, he asks Abraham
specifically to send Lazarus with just a drop of water to sooth his agony.
As
Jesus spins his story, the problem does not appear to be the rich man’s wealth. Nowhere is he condemned for having
means. Jesus is critical because he does
nothing to help a person he knows, a person in deep need he encounters day
after day after day. Should the rich man
have used his position and his wealth to foster adequate opportunities for work
in his society? Should he have fought
for health care and housing for the indigent and poor in the land? Should he have brought Lazarus food and
water? Should he have provided bandages
for his sores? Should he have taken him
into his home or given him shelter or done something to keep the dogs
away? Yes. Yes, he should have done all of this and
more. He should have done
something. But, as Jesus tells the
story, he does nothing.
And as
Jesus tells the story, there will come a day of judgment for every person who
shows similar disregard for the basic humanity of another person, for every
person who grows callous or indifferent to human need and does nothing to help.
For the past few weeks we have been
reading Paul’s letter to his young protégé, Timothy. Today we hear his counsel to seek godliness
and contentment. He warns of the dangers
inherent in making money and possessions the main goal of your life. “You bring nothing into this world, and you
can take nothing out of it,” Paul says.
In lieu of the love on money, he
instructs Timothy to “pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance,
gentleness.” “Fight the good fight of
faith,” he writes, “take hold of eternal life.”
These personal qualities we cultivate are far more important in life
than the quantity of stuff we accumulate.
Woven together, these readings challenge
us to use our wealth, our resources, and our influence to provide help, to
foster hope, and to acknowledge the humanity we share with every person on our
planet. As we walk this path in life we
become more godly and more content.
The Rev. Walter Whichard served as Rector
of St. Paul’s from 1955-1963. Back then
we mailed the weekly bulletin to each home prior to Sunday services. It often included reflections and teachings
and Mr. Whichard was fond of passing along inspirational quotes and comments he
received from others. He shared what was
titled “English Churchyard epitaph” in the December 12, 1962 bulletin:
“What I have
spent, I had: What I have kept, I lost: What I gave, I have!”
Almost 64 years later, I can’t think of a
better or more concise way to end today’s sermon.
“What I have
spent, I had: What I have kept, I lost: What I gave, I have!”
Hope.
Help. Humanity.
