
Please join us tonight at 6 pm either in the chapel at St. Martin's or online on the parish Facebook page.
Click below to download a copy of the order of service.

Please join us tonight at 6 pm either in the chapel at St. Martin's or online on the parish Facebook page.
Click below to download a copy of the order of service.
When I was in Santiago, Cuba, a few years ago, I noticed little statues of poor Lazarus in the doorways of churches. Coins were scattered around these statues. People left them while praying for someone they loved who was ill. There's a photo of one I saw on the cover of today's bulletin. This practice shows how these churches do not ignore those in need lying at their gates. The money collected helps the poor. It's a quaint superstition that leads to good outcomes. But it is still a superstition.
The problem with this practice, if taken seriously, is that it engages in what is called “magical thinking.” One type of magical thinking is superstition. For example, a baseball player might eat chicken before a game or avoid stepping on the baseline, believing it will bring him luck. Sometimes, this kind of thinking is light-hearted.
I once knew a strict Baptist woman whose house had been on the market for so long that she bought a specially made St. Joseph figurine and buried it head down next to her “For Sale” sign. Suddenly, her house sold. She was aghast, and her world was rocked. This is a real phenomenon here in St. Louis. Don’t believe me? Just google “St. Joseph sell your house.”
When her house sold, she was expected to bring St. Joseph into her new home and give him a place of honor. She worried that her Baptist friends would be shocked to see a Catholic saint on her mantle. To camouflage him, she made a little chef's hat since he was wearing an apron and holding what looked like a lump of dough. Voila! Now he was Imo, of Imo's Pizza!
The prosperity gospel is another issue. It promotes the idea that we can manipulate God to do what we want through some magic formula. Even worse is the belief that wealth, health, and good fortune are signs of divine blessing. This implies that the poor, the ill, and the dying are cursed by God. They must have brought their misfortune upon themselves through sin.
This belief removes the expectation that those who have wealth should help the poor. To do so would violate God's will. It sounds crazy, but I have heard many people express these beliefs when questioned about their views.
Our circumstances in life are not the result of God's blessing or cursing us. Bad things happen to kind people. Good things happen to hateful people. None of this is due to God's actions. The worst part of the prosperity gospel is that it seeps into our secular lives. Just replace the word God with "my own hard work," even when community support helped them get there.
Amos addresses a society at peace and experiencing great prosperity, but only for a few. His words target a kingdom enjoying newfound wealth while a huge chasm grows in their common life due to that wealth. Once, all lived basically equal lives. Now, the rich have summer homes and winter homes. They feast on fine foods while the poor labor day by day, not receiving their fair share of prosperity.
Interestingly, this was also a time when religiosity among the wealthy flourished. They violated the very heart of the Torah by believing themselves a separate class, especially favored by God. Amos, speaking for God, condemns the way the rich exploit the poor in the harshest terms.
In our gospel fable of the rich man and the beggar at his gate, Jesus chips away at this kind of thinking. He uses familiar tropes and characters. The term "Hades" tips us off, as good Jews did not believe in it. They believed in the Torah and the Prophets, like Amos, who criticized a society straying from a community model of caring for each other.
Jesus symbolically condemns the prosperity gospel by using his fable to criticize those who do not care for the less fortunate. The difference between the two characters in Luke 16 is stark. Each day, the rich man averts his eyes from the beggar, beset by open sores, at his very own gates. The rich man is nameless, but the poor man is named "Lazarus," meaning "God Is My Helper." From our perspective, we hear "Lazarus" and think of Jesus's friend whom he raised from the dead.
Both men share one fate: mortality. When they die, their circumstances reverse. The beggar finds ease and honor in the bosom of Abraham, while the rich man suffers torment. The rich man reinforces his torment by believing Lazarus should serve him. He tries to convince Abraham—from Hades—to make Lazarus tend to his suffering or warn his brothers of their fate if they ignore the needs around them. The rich man stepped over the poor beggar every day, ignoring the need that Torah commanded him to alleviate.
This teaching is not just for the wealthy. It applies to all who follow Jesus. It is not enough to pray for those beset by poverty or illness. God has made us agents in the world to act, as we claim to be the Body of Christ.
Is this story about death or life? We miss the point if we think following Jesus is only about taking care of ourselves and "going to heaven." What we do with our lives matters. How we respond to human needs and suffering is crucial.
Recognizing the divine image in everyone—rich or poor, saint or sinner, citizen or migrant—matters. The most important part of faith is not what we believe but what we do when that belief takes root within us. At the heart of following Jesus is the mindful way we seek to live in unity with each other, regardless of race, class, origin, or wealth. This includes caring for the "invisible" ones lying at our gates.
Jesus asks us this question every day. Each day is an opportunity to recognize the mercy and grace God offers us. We should let that mercy and grace flourish in how we use our resources for those most ignored and forgotten.
As Creation itself reminds us, the way of life is the way of giving. Nature is in balance when each creature in the web of existence gives as much as it takes. This is the path of life, abundant for all, which God first gives each of us. To live a life abundant, we are called to give abundantly. Not to win a prize, but to live a life of meaning and purpose—following in the way of Jesus. Living, loving, and giving.
Amen.

Beloved Members of St. Martin's,
For several weeks now, we have been hearing some very direct gospel readings to let us know how Jesus feels about those who control vast amounts of wealth. After last week's frustratingly Zen koan of a parable that seems to (but actually does not, to be clear) praise dishonesty, we get this week's parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus.
In our gospel fable of the rich man and the beggar at his gate, Jesus symbolically condemns those who do not use their means to care for those less fortunate. The difference between the two symbolic characters Jesus creates in Luke 16 could not be more stark-- nor could we miss the signs of whose side Jesus is on. Each day the rich man averts his eyes from the beggar, beset by open sores, at his very own gates, as he goes about preparing his daily feasts. The rich man is nameless, but the poor man is named "Lazarus," meaning "God Is My Helper." Yet, from our perspective, we hear the name "Lazarus" and think of Jesus's friend whom Jesus raised from the dead.
Speaking of death, the one thing both men share is that they are mortal. When both die, there is a stark reversal of circumstance. Suddenly, and for eternity, the beggar is in the bosom of Abraham in ease and honor (recalling Jesus's observation from August 31 about humility in choosing places of honor), while the rich man is in torment. The rich man reinforces why he is in torment with his continued attitudes that Lazarus should serve him, as the rich man tries to convince Abraham-- from Hades-- to make Lazarus tend to soothe his suffering or become an errand boy to warn the rich man's brothers of what fate awaits them if they ignore the divinely sanctioned claims of those in need all around them.
Yet is this a story about death-- or about life? I think we DO miss the point if we think following Jesus is about taking care of ourselves and "going to heaven" after we die matters more than how we try to live like Jesus. Whether we believe in heaven or hell-- or Hades-- or not, the fact is that what we do with our lives matters, and how we respond to the human needs and suffering we know exist all around us-- is what matters.
How we recognize the divine image in everyone-- rich or poor, saint or sinner, citizen or migrant, even friend or foe-- matters. It matters because the most important part of the life of faith is not in what we believe, but in what we do when that belief takes root within us, in all its implications. At the heart of the life of following Jesus, not just "believing" in him, is the concrete and mindful ways we truly seek to live in unity with each other, regardless of race, class, origin, or wealth-- and especially, for the way we care for the "invisible" ones lying at our very gates.
In her poem, The Summer Day," Mary Oliver famously asked, "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" Jesus asks us that question every day. Every day is a day to work toward recognizing the mercy and grace God offers us, and let that mercy and grace come to full flower in the way we use what is most precious in this world for the benefit of those most ignored and forgotten. This is the path of life, abundant for all, which God first gives each of us.
In Christ,
Mother Leslie+