Great Chasm 9-28-25
Great Chasm
First Reading ; Luke 16:19-31
Numb – Michael Coffey
Abraham’s bosom comforts
The fatherless, wounded weeping son
Like a fired hearth, a stew
And a slow, knowing drum beat at night
All the hurting, sore Lazurus’ of the earth
Will gather there free and
Nuzzle him until the pain is taken up
Into God’s own welcoming bosom
But not so for those who lounge
On white leather couches clutching
Red wine goblets, who do not know
How to mourn the global wail
Not to grieve is a luxury for the numbed j
And pharmacologically well-fed
Their anesthetic blocking the pain
But also the divine comfort of their longing
So drink up believers the cup of suffering
Eat the bread of crumbled brokenness
Have your numbed souls cracked open again
Let the cosmic sorrow drip into you and feel
Luke 16:19-31
“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 poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ He said, ‘Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ He said, ‘No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”
Prayer – Merciful God, who in Jesus Christ for our sakes became poor, who reaches out with compassion to those in need, help us to follow you in compassionate generosity to all those in need. Save us from the desire to build walls and create caverns between those of us who have much and those of us who have little. Help us to be content with what we have. Preserve us from taking false comfort and deluding ourselves because of what we’ve been able to accumulate. Help us to be bridge builders of the great chasms in our world – in Christ’s name we pray – amen.
How are we dealing with the growing gaps – the many great chasms – in our society, in our country, in our world? As I read and reflected on our gospel passage this morning that theme kept sticking out for me was one of differences – differences between rich and poor and how one of affluence tends to be blind to the gap between that affluence and poverty, differences between ideologies and theologies, differences between political parties and their supporters – and those differences reflect the great chasms that continue to exist throughout our lives and in our current society.
Our gospel passage focuses on the rich man and Lazarus. Most pastors are going to choose to focus on the disparities between the wealthy and the poor – a topic well worth focusing on when you look at the great chasm between the global 1% who are considered wealthy and the remaining 99% who are considered poor. The cut-off line for the global 1% considered wealthy is $34,000 – how many of us either make or made that amount of money in a year. I would guess most of us would fit into that 1% and thus would be most like the rich man in our passage. Here in the US, we would be considered quite wealthy compared to the rest of the world and thus we have a moral obligation to care for the least of these and yet we continue to operate from a perspective of scarcity and desire, buying easily into the lie of our consumer culture that there isn’t enough to go around.
Other pastors are going to focus on the great chasm between heaven and hell – the differences between God’s judgment and God’s grace – and how the chasm is determined on how you and I treat those who have less than we do. This chasm between heaven and hell is interpreted as being a reflection of how we treat others – of how we are blind to the needs of those who have less than us – of how we fail to follow God’s desires for us to be caring of one another. These pastors are most focused on shaming their congregants into a seeming better relationship with righteousness and thus worthy of earning God’s grace. That theology doesn’t work for me and doesn’t work for those who understand grace as an unmerited gift of God’s love.
Wednesday evening Valerie and I were eating dinner and talking. She is not one to watch or read the news – she has chosen to stay out of the miasma of discord and dis-ease that we find daily in our world. But we were talking about the recent shooting of Charlie Kirk. We talked at length about the chasm between our political parties and even the chasm between Christians as a people who are trying to figure out how to believe and live out our faith in our current context. The chasm of fear and doubt, division and unrest is as wide as the Grand Canyon. There currently are great chasms between the truths of each side with seemingly very little room for reconciliation between the two sides. We both recognized that in order to move forward that both sides will have to acknowledge the fear and doubts of each respective side in order to find places of commonality. Unfortunately, the great chasm of certainty makes it difficult for either side of the chasm to be able to hear and acknowledge the issues of privilege and prejudice, the issues of dignity and distrust, the issues of responsibility and shame.
As I scrolled through my social media feeds and news casts the day after Charlie Kirk’s murder, I was struck by the number and variety of reactions. People condemned his death; others condemned violence but focused more on his polarizing political views and vitriolic comments. Still others dismissed his death as a consequence of his own violent rhetoric. There were also the usual conspiracists and bots to stir the pot and bait others. It certainly has reflected the great chasm that make up the American landscape today.
I think each of these opinions offers some insight into the complicated nature of human beings, our propensity toward violence and the interconnectedness and messy mesh of our political and religious values. For how we understand God has a direct effect on the type of society we want to create. We see this at work in public discourse in the easy slippage between religious and political language.
In his book Exclusion and Embrace, Miroslav Volf begins with a story that can help us in this moment. He writes: “After my lecture, Professor Jürgen Moltmann stood up and asked one of his typical questions, both concrete and penetrating: ‘But can you embrace a četnik?’
It was the winter of 1993. For months now, the notorious Serbian fighters called ‘Četnik’ had been sowing desolation in my native country, herding people into concentration camps, raping women, burning down churches, and destroying cities. I had just argued that we ought to embrace our enemies as God has embraced us in Christ.
Can I embrace a četnik––the ultimate other, so to speak, the evil other? What would justify the embrace? Where would I draw the strength for it? What would it do to my identity as a human being and as a Croat? It took me a while to answer, though I immediately knew what I wanted to say. ‘No, I cannot — but as a follower of Christ I think I should be able to.’”
Volf reveals a paradox at the heart of Christian theology. We know Jesus says to love our enemies. We may even believe it intellectually. But when confronted by our enemy, our belief is challenged. Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount challenges us beyond the abstract and into the concreteness of human experience.
We know Jesus says to love our enemies. We may even believe it intellectually. But when confronted by our enemy, our belief is challenged. As we all continue to process the death of Charlie Kirk and monitor the fallout, there are a few things for U.S. Christians to consider.
Charlie Kirk’s death reveals much about the political divide in this nation, but it says even more about the disparate theologies that underpin it. For example, the myth of redemptive violence once again rears its ugly head. Immediately after the shooting, there were appeals for the death penalty, as if executing the one responsible for Kirk’s murder would be satisfactory. Retaliation and the death penalty cannot bring about justice, though it often makes us feel better. Any acts of vengeance or retribution are doomed to fail because violence begets violence.
In our current moment, how we treat those with whom we disagree, those whom we may even consider enemies, will determine how or, if we move forward. Will we move toward each other in an honest conversation about the epidemics of gun violence and White supremacy, or continue to drift apart and spiral into more violence? The way of Jesus requires encountering those who are different from us in a way that doesn’t diminish their humanity, even when they diminish others’. Jesus invited his disciples to deny themselves and pick up their cross. This is not weakness; it is what Jesus taught and modeled, and it is the narrow road to which we are called.
Our gospel lesson this morning is focused on the chasm between the rich and poor and I would assert that it is also metaphorical for how life is in our country today. Jesus’ story of not seeing the obvious and failing to do anything about it speaks out to me and the great chasm that seems to be expanding between whites and people of color, between our political parties, between the rich and poor, between those of different sexual orientation. The rich man’s inability to see the suffering of his neighbor created the great chasm that could not be crossed. I am not willing to let my inability, nor your inability, to see the suffering of our black and brown neighbors as a chasm that cannot be crossed. I would fail you if I don’t speak to this chasm.
So how do we help our communities of faith hear and understand, and live the message that all of us are beloved children of God? How do we embody and encourage our communities to put down the obstacles of fear and doubt and mistrust and build bridges that will last and not crumble within weeks of being built? Is there a third way to see things between the fearful, doubting, and mistrusting people that invites healing and reconciliation and hope for true community? It seems to me these are the questions that we need to be asking ourselves and not pointing fingers at those who hold privilege and pointing fingers at those who may revolt as victims of privilege.
Perhaps the great repentance for this great chasm begins with the recognition that all of us are broken, beautiful and created in God’s image. Perhaps that is a starting place but I think all of us are naïve if we believe that foundation will be enough to stimulate a permanent bridge being built. Perhaps we need a “truth and reconciliation” movement similar to what occurred in South Africa at the end of apartheid. Perhaps we need to adopt a “third way” that acknowledges “that is true and that is true, too, and we’ve got to learn to coexist with both of them. Perhaps we need to become a holding tank where we recognize the truth that is in both positions without trying to dismiss one of them.” (Richard Rohr)
In the past I have attended a plethora of ‘Speaking Down Barriers’ events where transformative dialogue was the focus. From many of those events I found hope, which is something I need, we need today. I hope that a transformative dialogue can indeed occur; I hope that a much needed conversation about responsibility and accountability that is about hope and not pointing fingers can occur. I do have hope and, not but, and, I realize that I have to willingly and honestly carry my own biases and beliefs, while also sincerely carrying the responsibility that others of different beliefs and feelings are God’s beloved children as well; and thus, knowing there are good and bad people on both sides? I also have to acknowledge my own work that needs to be done to bridge the great chasm that exists for me and others. My hope is that you will do the same – thanks be to God – amen.