What Was the Homeless Guy's Name?

CONSECRATE Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.  Jesus, I belong to you. I lift up my heart to you. I set my mind on you. I fix my eyes on you. I offer my body to you as a living sacrifice. Jesus, we belong to you.  Praying in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen.  HEAR Luke 16:19–31 NIV “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores. “The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’ “But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’ “He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my family, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’ “Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’ “‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’ “He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’” CONSIDER What was his name?  He was a homeless man (or as they say these days, "unhoused"). Most every day as I drove to and from work I passed him by on the corner of Bridge and Main Streets in Franklin, Tennessee. He sold newspapers. These weren't just any newspapers though. They were newspapers written, edited, published, and sold by a community of homeless people (which I suppose makes the case for the term "unhoused").  These guys were all over town and they could be identified by their official name tags as bonafide employees of the organization. Anyhow I passed this man by almost every day, and rarely if ever did I buy a newspaper. Why not? To be honest, I rarely if ever had a dollar in the car.  Each day as I approached the busy intersection I went through the same frantic ritual of searching for a dollar I knew was not there. Then I would carefully avoid making eye contact, secretly hoping the light would change and I could speed away. Every day I did this. How easy would it have been to get some change from my bedside table and put it in my pocket so I could buy a paper once a week? How easy would it have been to stop by an ATM and get . . . well they don't give $1 bills at ATMs and I would have had to go make change somewhere for a $20. Or maybe he could have made change or maybe I could have just surprised him with the whole $20 bill or . . .  or . . . or. I guess it just seemed easier to do nothing. It reminds me of the closing story from our text today—the one at the end of Jesus's masterclass on money and stewardship. He taught us the one who serves God becomes a transformed steward of everything, and the one who serves money is a self-deceived steward of nothing. How many times did the rich man pass this poor man—the unhoused, homeless man—without so much as a nod? How many times did the rich man think to himself how easy it would be to do something, anything, to help him? Yet he never managed to lift a finger.  It's so easy for me to villainize this unnamed rich man, whose crime had nothing to do with being rich and everything to do with not caring. Strangely, it was so easy for me to excuse my upper-middle-class, minivan-driving self for my callous disregard of the homeless man selling dollar-newspapers—en route to pick up my five-dollar grande five-pump, no-water, chai latte with a shot of espresso on my way into work.  I wish I had another chance.  His name was Lazarus. And the rich man's name? Nobody cares. PRAY Lord Jesus, thank you for caring enough to give us the revelation of the hard truth about God, money, the poor, and self-deception. Give us the grace to believe you when you say, "As you did it unto the least of these my brothers and sisters, you did it unto me," or not. By your Spirit, teach me to serve God and steward everything. It will be for your glory, others' gain, and my good. In your name, Jesus, amen.