Sermon preached on Trinity 15 (Sept 25th 2022): Amos 6, 1, 4-7; 1Tim 6, 6-19; Luke 16, 19-end

Fr Leonard Dool;an – St Paul’s Athens

The prophet Amos sets out his theme: Woe to those who lie on beds of ivory and lounge on their couches and eat lambs from the flock and calves from the stall.

The writer of the Letter to Timothy provides us with words that are part of the Introduction to the Funeral Service: we brought nothing into the world, so that we can take nothing out of it.

I think already we are beginning to build up a picture of what scripture is going to say to us today – if we have ears to hear.

In many ways both readings prepare us for the parable of Christ Jesus.

“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 scriptures are guiding us morally towards asking big questions about how we can reconcile lives that are rich and lives that are poor; How wealth contrasts with poverty; and the ethics of how wealth is distributed with some justice and equity.

No doubt many people were following on TV or on radio, or in the printed press, the coverage of the events from the day of the death of HMQ Elizabeth II right through to the elaborate processions last Monday to and from Westminster Abbey, and by contrast her subsequent simple burial at St. George’s Chapel, Windsor.

No one can say that it was not meticulously planned and delivered with extreme professionalism  – of the sort that makes British people proud – and quite rightly – leaving us to comment among ourselves, ‘only the British can do this type of thing’. I think it might be true, actually.

There is no need and no desire to go into all the details of those events, but suffice to say that it presented to the world the opportunity to share in a life of service and steadfastness – the funeral of a woman of faith, whose humility was notorious; a woman who was a Queen who was all too aware that she served the King of Kings. I’m sure we were all deeply moved or impressed by it, whether one of her subjects, or the citizen of another nation.

On the coffin of the Queen were symbols that to the world might be seen to represent wealth and power – the crown with its jewels and the orb and sceptre. Yet, I was struck by the part of the service in Windsor when these three symbols were removed and Queen Elizabeth was lowered into the crypt as wife, mother, grandmother and great grandmother.

 

Think of those words of Amos, and the words of the author of today’s epistle ‘we brought nothing into the world, so that we take nothing out of it.’

And yet, and yet, although we understand exactly what these words mean, there is a sense in which we have to rethink what they could mean – and it is a challenge to all of us. Certainly we don’t bring ‘beds of ivory’ into the world, but we do bring into the world qualities and gifts – and the potential to love, the ability to show mercy, the capacity to live humbly, the to help others, and the capacity to be filled by God’s grace.

From everything we knew, or heard about recently, Queen Elizabeth managed to get that balance right. However, we are all called at least to try to get that balance right – the balance between sharing what we have with generosity towards those who have little; the balance between privilege, and the desire to use any privilege we may have in the service of the common good. This is our godly calling, and in responding to that calling we are invited to be ‘imitators’ of Christ.

In the parable of Christ presented by St. Luke, the contrasts could not be more stark. There is a man of great wealth, and outside his door covered in sores is Lazarus. The starkness of the gap is widened for the rich man is in Hades, while Lazarus is in heaven. The rich man laments his condition and the realities of their lives become reversed – can Lazarus please just dip his finger into a little water and place it on my tongue. How often must Lazarus in this life thought, please, just a little bread, mighty sir?

The parable leaves us with a dilemma – we would like Lazarus to share a little water with the rich man in hell – in a way this would be a good gospel ending to this story. Tell my brothers then to change their ways and put things right. Not possible for judgement has been passed – they didn’t listen to the words of the law or the calls of the prophets to repentance, to amendment of life and lifestyle.

 

We have Jesus, the fulfilment of the law and the prophets and pioneer and perfector of our faith. He has the words of life, and is the Word of life. Elsewhere, in St. Matthew’s gospel, this Jesus Christ says in a parable (Matthew 25), ‘I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink. I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick or in prison and you did not visit me.’

Then they will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?’ Then the King will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.”

Then we are taken to the same locations as in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, as Matthew ends ‘And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.’  (Matt 25, 42-46).

So, in reality we may be born with nothing, but we are each born with the capacity to do so much good, and it is a life well lived that we take out of the world. I reflect on the life of HMQ, and I give thanks the example and the inspiration. I give thanks for her, and I give thanks to God.