This past Monday afternoon I watched two funeral processions. Like many of you and like
over 4 billion people around the world, I watched Queen Elizabeth’s state funeral. I was
moved by many things but one thing I found especially poignant was the drive from
Westminster Abby to Windsor castle where she was laid to rest. People lined the 25 mile
stretch of roadway and by the time the procession reached the castle, the hearse was covered
with flowers mourners had tossed out along the way. Queen Elizabeth was the daughter of a
king and mother to one. She was a nation’s mum and deeply admired by the entire world.
The other funeral procession I saw that day was along interstate 94. A hearse led a much
smaller procession to a cemetery somewhere on the east side, I assume. There were about 5
cars following the hearse two of which were rusty, beat up pick-up trucks. I have no idea who
this person was because THEIR funeral was not a televised global event. And I’m guessing
very few people witnessed it. Whoever was in that hearse may have been someone’s spouse,
or parent or sibling. And they were, of course, someone’s beloved child.
There was a great divide between these two deceased – at lease from a human perspective.
So many eyes on one. Hardly anyone noticed the second. God saw both. And loved both.
Today’s Gospel is about seeing people. It’s about how God sees and loves. And how he gives
us the same eyes to see and love.
Lazarus, the poor man in Jesus’ story, sat outside the rich man’s gate every day begging. He
would have been hard to avoid and difficult to miss. Beggars by nature have a keen sense
about heavy traffic areas and high visibility locations. But the rich man doesn’t see Lazarus
sitting right at his front gate. Even in the afterlife, the rich man recognizes the beggar, even
calls him by his name but still only sees him as someone to be used for his own needs. He
continues to treat Lazarus as if he were a servant, asking that Abraham send him to bring a
drop of water and to warn his brothers. The rich man fails to see Lazarus as a person, as an
equal, as one deserving of compassion and regard.
It’s obvious that we struggle to see past the labels we put on people who are different from us.
But we even fail to see the person at our gate. Those in our everyday lives. Those inside our
doors. In our families, in our schools, at work, in our congregation. There are those among us
. . . who are hard to avoid and difficult to miss … that we simply do not see. We do not see
what they suffer and what they need. When we are frustrated or angry or hurt, when we get
busy or self-absorbed, we ignore our neighbors, we do not see them, even when they are
close by.
In Jesus’ parable there was a great chasm that separated Lazarus and the rich man. It’s that
chasm that prevented the rich man from seeing Lazarus as a person, as someone beloved, as
someone’s son. And that great chasm lies between us and the people God has called us to
love. We can feel it. It damages our relationships. It creates disappointment and alienation.
It keeps us focused on self and it is no life.
But Jesus stepped into that chasm – into that lonely darkness. He left the riches of heaven to
become poor for our sakes. No one saw him for who he really was. But Jesus had eyes to
see. And he saw what others overlooked.
Pastor Jon's Sermon Blog 