A Chasm of Silence, the Senior Sermon of Stephanie Swinnea, Class of 2005 from the Diocese of Oklahoma, given in Christ Chapel on September 20, 2004, in Christ Chapel

The rich man feasted sumptuously every day! Feasting, now that's a subject that I'm familiar with. Since I began this journey toward ordination I've added a hefty 30 pounds to this otherwise svelte physique, most of it in the past two years. But it is a mistake to assume that these passages condemn feasting.

Jesus was accused of being a glutton and a drunkard, after all. He feasted often -- and often with the wrong people. His last meal with his disciples was a feast. No, it is not feasting that is condemned here; not feasting but famine.

LET US PRAY
Holy Trinity, Holy One;
Open our ears to hear what the Spirit is speaking;
Open our eyes to see what we will not see;
Open our lips to bridge the chasm of silence;
Open our hearts to feast as one with Thee.
Amen.

The Chasm of Silence -- Episcopalians like silence. Silence can distract us from the busy world. But the problem is, silence can distract us from the busy world.

Did you hear the silence in our Gospel lesson? Two men, a rich man feasting sumptuously every day and a poor man, starving, too weak to stand, lying beside the rich man's gate only a few feet away. They never speak. They never speak! The rich man never acknowledges that the poor man is present. He seems invisible. A chasm of silence exists between them.

I've experienced that chasm of silence. At any intersection where a man or woman, bearing a cardboard sign that says, "Anything Will Help," slowly walks from car to car hoping for a handout. I can feel within me the shield of invisibility glazing over the car window, the chasm of silence widening with every moment.

I've felt it in church, too. For a time I attended a beautiful little church. Every member participated generously in one way or another. We were all above average; above average intellectually, educationally, socially, and economically. One Sunday a man dropped in who was not above average, not intellectually, not educationally, not socially, not economically. In fact he was needy. The man participated in the feast of bread and wine, but the feast of the fellowship of the body of Christ was denied him. The beautiful people were beautifully polite, but the silence could be heard behind the thin smiles. The chasm of silence would not be bridged. He was left outside the gate hoping for a crumb. After the third Sunday, he never returned, and honestly, the congregation sighed with relief. Perhaps he found refuge in another church where he could feel embraced in the bosom of Abraham.

The 1995 Noble Prize winning author and survivor of Auschwitz, Elie Wiesel (Veesel), said, "to remain silent and indifferent is the greatest sin of all."

The rich man never speaks to Lazarus, never seems to see Lazarus. Only the dogs have any mercy, licking the poor man's sores. Wayne Menking suggested earlier this semester that dogs in a bible story always herald a death. And, sure enough Lazarus dies and is carried to heaven where he feasts with Abraham. The rich man dies, too, and is buried. Tormented by the flames of hell, he looks into heaven and suddenly sees what he had never allowed himself to see. He sees Lazarus, but even now his vision is faulty. He still does not speak to Lazarus, nor acknowledge him as a human of equal worth. He never repents. He doesn't ask Lazarus for forgiveness. Instead he asks Father Abraham to send Lazarus down with some cool water. But that chasm of silence could not be bridged.For the first time in our story the rich man thinks of someone else.

"Send Lazarus to warn my brothers." But Abraham reminds him, "They have Moses and the prophets."

"They won't pay any attention to Moses and the prophets, but if someone were to come to them from the dead..."

"No," Abraham countered, "If they won't heed Moses and the prophets, they won't believe even if someone were to come back from the dead."

This tale of God's ultimate justice, is so strikingly clear that no sermon is necessary. On the other hand there may be a message less obvious than first appears.

The rich man wears purple. Only the royal families and government officials were licensed to wear purple in ancient Rome. The rich man, then, is a symbol of empire, Lazarus, a symbol of the subjects of empire, exploited, impoverished, invisible and shut outside of all the wealth and excess that empire generates. A chasm of silence is maintained between them, because they are insignificant.

Recalling his first night in Auschwitz, Elie Wiesel records,

"Never shall I forget the faces.. turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky... Never shall I forget that silence... which murdered my God and my soul."
In the silence Lazarus dies, like Wiesel's companions who died at Auschwitz. But Wiesel insists, "They fought alone, they suffered alone... but they did not die alone, for something in each one of us died with them."

For Jesus to suggest that, like the rich man, the empire would crash and burn, and all the suppressed peoples be raised to a great feast, was seditious. It took courage for Jesus to challenge the Roman Empire. We are reminded of his mother's words, "He has lifted up the lowly and cast down the mighty from their thrones."

My son, Kyle, was watching Star Wars this week. The little Ewoks and the Rebel Alliance seemed insignificant to the evil emperor until a carefully aimed charge penetrated the Death Star and the black of space exploded with flames and light. "Hey," I protested, "Lucas stole that from Luke!"

What of today? of other empires and systems of oppression? Can the powers of this world be shaken, transformed? Abraham told the rich man,

"They have Moses and the prophets. A plan for a just society exists. They won't listen even if one were to come to them from the dead.

But the good news is this: Jesus has more faith in humanity than Abraham could muster in this story. Jesus took the risk that nations might just listen if one were to come back from the dead.

And he did. Now the resurrected Lord is going to the people, to the nations, to the empires born again within each one of us. So the challenge is ours. With resurrection faith and the wisdom of the prophets:

We are challenged to resist self-imposed blindness;
to be willing to see the down trodden and oppressed.
We are challenged to bridge the chasm of silence;
to speak to, for, and with those who have no voice.

We are challenged to encourage the victims of empire to hope for the justice that will come.
We are challenged to establish just societies where every man, woman and child is seen, heard, and valued.

In short, we are challenged to establish God's kingdom in the earth. And God has faith in us, that we, through the power of the Holy Spirit, can do just that.