The Invisible Ones Proper 21C

 

The Invisible Ones

In the early days of Covid, when the gyms all closed, I went to the parking lot outside my gym and like Forrest Gump, I began running. I had it all to myself, except once in a while when a truck driver parked his rig in the lot over-night. Sometimes he would run as well. When the gym reopened, and some of the other businesses that had offices in the same industrial park were back, I recall one morning as I finished a couple of miles, a voice behind me called out, “Man, you have lost a lot of weight!” I immediately thought, “I’ve been seen!” I turned to find a total stranger, a gentleman who, as it turned out, worked for an environmental group that does the dirty work most of us would like to avoid, e.g. asbestos abatement, lead paint abatement, demolition work, etc. I said, “Thank you,” and introduced myself. I learned that he’s from Guatemala, and he and others have worked here for something like 18 years. I went home, hopped on the scale, and sure enough. I had dropped over 10 pounds. I would have never known but for the fact that someone saw me and cared enough to get to know me. 

People from certain minority groups these days talk about not “being seen.” Some on the Autism Spectrum. Some from the LGBTQ+ community. Women, African-Americans, immigrants, refugees, trans-people, those Veterans holding signs at busy intersections. People whom we often just drive by instead of stopping to say, “Hi, how can I help you today?” Had it not been for my new friend, I wouldn’t know how much it means to otherwise invisible people in our society to “be seen”. Notice, that “being seen” means more than just seeing; it means getting to know the “other,” much as my new friend who had been observing me for weeks. He could see that exercising out in the fresh air everyday had made a difference; had changed me. I was deeply touched that of all the people who now had re-populated the parking lot, some of whom must have remembered me from the gym, it was only my new friend from Guatemala who had really seen me. To others I was invisible. I was one of those “others,” someone not quite like the rest of us. We all want to be seen, really. 

We often talk about these invisible ones without really knowing them. Without really knowing even one of them. And we come up with so-called solutions we think they need without really consulting them. They have become so prevalent in our society, in our towns, in our country, that blues-musician Charlie Musselwhite has penned a song about them which goes in part:

But you don’t see us/You don’t really try

We’re the invisible ones/Left outside

We are the invisible ones/The invisible ones

You’d let die/You’d let die/You’d let die

   -Invisible Ones by Charlie Musselwhite 

It turns out that long ago, Jesus gave invisible ones a name: Lazarus. Lazarus, and all the Lazaruses, are among the “every human being” we promise to treat with respect and dignity in our Baptismal Covenant. Lazarus lies in the street just outside “a rich man’s gate,” with a dog licking his sores. Lazarus is like the Syrophoenician woman Jesus insults, calling her and her people “dogs.” [Mark 7:24-30] Like her, Lazarus would settle for a few crumbs from the rich man’s table. Alas, the rich man does not see him. Only a stray dog seeks to comfort him by licking his sores. [Luke 16:19-31] The rich man has no name. But Jesus has made it his custom to know these “others;” to know these “invisible ones.” As the story goes in Luke, the rich man dies, and so does Lazarus. Lazarus was carried away by angels to Father Abraham, while the rich man ends up in Hades where he “is tormented” to the point of great thirst. He looks up and sees Lazarus, now for the first time in “the bosom of Abraham,” and begs for just a drop of water off of the Invisible One’s finger. The roles are now reversed. The first are last and the last are first. 

Now the rich man knows what it feels like to have been Lazarus in this life. He is now the beggar, asking for mercy from Abraham. Abe says, in effect, you had your chance. You enjoyed good things. “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.” I have five brothers, says the rich man. Please send Lazarus to them to warn them. Nope, we cannot do that, says Abraham. Besides, they have access to the wisdom of 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.' Abraham 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." Curtain. 

Now few of us are as rich as the rich man, and few of us are as poor as old Lazarus. Though some of us may feel as invisible as Lazarus, and some of us, like the rich man, may pass by the invisible ones in our world without them a thought. But all of us are very much like the five brothers – there’s a chance we might change our evil ways. There’s a chance we might see ourselves in this parable and, dare I say, wake up to a full understanding of what Moses, the Prophets, and Jesus really mean when they urge us to love our neighbors. Who urges us to recognize that the man or woman on the corner, or outside the supermarket, with a cardboard sign in their hands is our neighbor. Is the “least of my sisters and brothers,” and that whatever we do for them, whatever we don’t do for them, is what we do to Christ – because Christ is in them. They are Christ, holding the sign as a mirror in which we might, if we are fortunate, see ourselves for who we really are. 

I see my friend from Guatemala almost every morning now. His fellow workers all say good morning. We have a short chat each day. Then I look to the news and hear someone like Stephen Miller telling me I ought to be afraid of these immigrant workers; that I should be happy that we, our government who represents us all, that “we” now round up all the folks we can find like them and lock them up, and try to send them out of the country. That somehow this will make America great. Again. We don’t even know who rounds-up all these people on our behalf because they all wear masks. Ironically, they make themselves invisible, on purpose. I don’t use my new friend’s name so as not to identify him to these anonymous gangs who roam our land. 

We read this story of Lazarus and the rich man every three years in church. But do we hear what Jesus is saying? Jesus, who in the previous chapters of Luke tells us in no uncertain terms not   only to see the invisible ones, to see all the Lazaruses, but to invite them to sit at our table to share a meal with them. And yet, as Dionne Warwick sings, we continue to walk on by. We drive on by. We hit the accelerator and pass the invisible ones as fast as we can. Because we are frightened by what we see. To see what is being done on our behalf. To realize who we have become. All Jesus wants us to do is to see “others.” All others. Really see them.  Get to know them. This is how we begin to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. It turns out it is the only way to enter the gates of heaven. It’s the only way into eternal life in God’s kingdom. Here and now. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow. When we see one another, truly see and know one another, it makes all the difference. All the difference in the whole wide world.

“Nobody gets into the kingdom of God without a letter of reference from the poor!” Proper 20C

 “Nobody gets into the kingdom of God without a letter of reference from the poor!”

This was a favorite axiom of The Reverend James Forbes, one time pastor of the historic Riverside Church in New York City, and my Homiletics Professor at Union Seminary. Which is to say that the Prophets like Jeremiah, Amos, Hosea, Isaiah and others had made careers out of proclaiming this message to the religious and political leaders of Israel for over 800 years before the time of Jesus. And they were descended from earlier prophets like Elijah and Elisha who had identified the unjust practices of the wealthy and powerful who were, to be kind to them, blinded by their desire for power, prestige, and money at the expense of the general population of the people they were appointed to serve. Without question, Jesus picked up the mantle and tradition of Biblical prophets, most of whom were poets writing what today we might describe as Op-Ed pieces calling for society and its leaders to pay more attention to the plight of those they were meant to serve. The prevailing Biblical economic understanding was that money needs to remain in circulation to the benefit of all the people. Whereas, to accumulate great wealth made it impossible for the majority of the population to survive. As followers of Jesus, as his modern-day disciples, we are called to turn away from society’s obsession with wealth and material goods, and turn towards the hunger and needs of the communities, nation, and world in which we live. This is the “repentance” to which Jesus continually, every day, calls us to live. 

Though some degree of mercantilism existed in the more urban centers in First Century Israel, the vast majority of the “people of the land,” the “am ha’aretz,” were agrarians – usually tenant debt-ridden farmers working for land owners who had bought-up farms that had gone into foreclosure and bankruptcy. The owners would send managers to collect what were unusually high rent, taxes, and at least a tithe, ten percent, of the produce, leaving little chance of the local farmer making any kind of profit, thus going further in debt every year. Not at all unlike what is happening to American farmers today who have seen long-standing contracts with other countries voided due to a tariff-driven trade-war, the cost of farm machinery, fewer farm workers as they are swept up for deportation, and a lack of affordable capital to keep family farms going from one generation to the next. 

Against such a background, and having already been sneered at by those in power for spending too much time with the poor, women, immigrant laborers and tax collectors, Jesus tells a parable, a story, so odd, that for centuries really, scholars have reached little agreement on what the story could possibly mean. Even at the time Luke was assembling his gospel, it appears that he, or others, appended a few sayings to try to make sense of it themselves, and fit it into the longer narrative in Luke and the Book of Acts. 

Most often it is called The Parable of the Unjust Steward, which is immediately suggestive that the principal character is not to be trusted. He is the manager for some farms owned by a wealthy land owner. A group of tenant farmers go the rich man to present charges that the manager is “squandering his property.” [Luke 16:1-14] Yet, the Greek text does not support such an understanding, as it reads, “This one (the manager) was slandered to him (the owner) as spreading his property around.” That is, those bringing “charges” are unjust, as is the owner who keeps the farmers poor. Not the manager who cheats the owner. 

The owner calls for an accounting of his holdings before he intends to fire the manager, who, if it is true that he is spreading the wealth around, is actually compliant with the vision of Torah (the first five books of the Bible) and the prophets. The quick-thinking manager goes about the farms and reduces their charges significantly – 20% and 50% reductions of what the farmers owe the owner! We are told he believes that the farmers will take care of him when he loses his position. “And his master commended the dishonest manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the children of this age are more-shrewd in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes…You cannot serve God and wealth. The Pharisees, who were lovers of money, heard all this, and they ridiculed him.” 

If as usual we believe someone in the parable must represent God or Jesus, we would do well to note that no one in this tale is righteous, just, or at all an exemplary character: the owner is rapacious and keeps the farmers in debt, the manager cheats the owner, and the farmers are unjust slanderers. How does one “make friends with dishonest wealth” so that one day we might be welcomed into “eternal homes”? I will be bold and suggest that this refers to the original “slander” against the manager: find ways to improve policies such that wealth gets “spread around” on behalf of what used to be “the common good” for all people. That is, the manager became, out of necessity, a manager of “unjust” or “dishonest” wealth, spreading the owner’s money to the advantage of the farmers who faced continual foreclosure and debt. 

This is what Luke has in mind. The addition in the comments that seek to make sense of the parable sets out a choice: one can serve God, or you can serve wealth. One cannot serve both! And in chapter 2 of the Book of Acts Luke portrays the emerging church serving God, not wealth: “Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.” [Acts 2:43-47] 

Note, church growth is tied directly to the management of wealth, money and possessions so as to meet the needs of the poor: resources are to be pooled together to make sure the needs of all people can be met. This weekend, musicians from across the country are gathering in Minneapolis, Minnesota to raise money to assist the farm bankruptcies which are already outpacing those in 2024, and, according to Illinois Farm Policy News, matching the record numbers seen in 2018 and 2019. [i] You cannot serve God and Wealth to get the letter of reference. 

Our prayer for today says: Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure.” Those heavenly things that shall endure includes the Bible’s economic “policies” which value the common good over the increasingly obscene accumulation of wealth among the billionaire and soon to be trillionaire class. The only way forward so as not to be anxious about earthly things is to become managers of unjust and dishonest wealth, which in turn necessitates choosing leaders at all levels of local, national, and church leadership who are willing to serve God over the service of wealth itself. I may be wrong, but I doubt it. I believe this is what Jesus, in this most unusual of his parables, is calling us to do. As the saying goes, “No one gets into the kingdom of God without a letter of reference from the poor.”  Amen.

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[i] https://farmpolicynews.illinois.edu/2025/07/farm-bankruptcies-this-year-already-exceed-2024-levels/

I Know Gun Trauma Proper 19C

 I Know Gun Trauma

I have witnessed gun violence in the face of my colleagues The Reverend Mary Marguerite Kohn and Brenda Brewington. I know what gun trauma feels like. Each time there is yet another mass shooting in this country, there is an uncontrollable reaction deep inside of me that has yet to go away since that tragic day at Saint Peter’s Episcopal Church, Ellicott City, MD: Thursday, May 3, 2012. Call it PTSD, call it Gun Trauma. It’s real. I spent much of the following couple of days by Mary Marguerite’s bedside in Shock Trauma as she was kept alive until organs could be harvested for transplantation. I spent Friday evening gathering our congregation to begin the grieving process and comfort one another. I struggled to find the words on Sunday morning that might help us all to make sense of what had happened in the church office a few days before:

“We will never understand it. We will never understand it no matter how many reports come out of the Howard County Police Department, who have served us all faithfully and well, we will never understand it. But we do understand this. We come from love, we return to love, and love is all around. Brenda and Mary Marguerite have returned home. They have returned to the heart of Love, the eternal center of God’s very Being.” 

I have lived with the knowledge that on any other Thursday afternoon, I too would have been in that office. It was only a random scheduling change that kept me somewhere else until shortly after the shooting had been reported. I learned quite soon that, yes, there is something real about Survivor’s Guilt. Like the trauma itself, it never really goes away. I’m only here because I wasn’t there. 

The events at Utah Valley University triggers all of this like a slow-motion instant replay in an NFL Sunday game. I had already planned what I might say on this 14^th Sunday after Pentecost which greets us with the words of two poets, one called Jeremiah, the other an unknown Psalmist:

"For my people are foolish,

they do not know me;

they are stupid children,

they have no understanding.

They are skilled in doing evil,

but do not know how to do good." [i]

 

“The fool has said in his heart, ‘There is no God.’

All are corrupt and commit abominable acts;

there is none who does any good.

Every one has proved faithless;

all alike have turned bad;

there is none who does good; no, not one.” [ii] 

Wisdom going back over 2,600 years describes how many feel about things today. It appears that retributive and redemptive violence has been with us all for as long as we can imagine. The “foolishness” expressed by our poets is kidding ourselves that we can stand on our own. We can keep a stiff upper lip. As one commentary observes, “Our culture considers autonomy one of the highest virtues. To be a functioning adult, one must be self-sufficient, self-directed; and the goal of life is often understood to be self-fulfillment, or self-actualization… namely, we don’t need other people, and we don’t need God! Such a conclusion does not deny the existence of God, but it does effectively eliminate God as an essential, functioning aspect of our daily reality. For us, in effect, “there is no God” [iii] It’s the gospel of Ayn Rand and the Marlboro Man that has so infected much of the heart and soul of America. Rugged Individualism reigns in a land that often pretends that we are a “Christian nation,” which would mean that we love God and love our neighbor – with Jesus defining neighbor as everyone, everywhere, all the time, no exceptions. 

This week I am grateful that ours is an Episcopal Church – which simply means we have bishops – from the Latin episcopus, and the Greek episkopos. The 12^th Bishop of the Diocese of Utah has responded with words of faith and wisdom that hopefully help us understand “understand” just who we are, and whose we are, and where we find ourselves here, in America, today:

Episcopal Diocese of Utah Reacts to Shooting of Political Commentator Charlie Kirk at Utah Valley University September 10, 2025 SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH —

The Episcopal Diocese of Utah stands in alliance with all who deeply lament the shooting that occurred today just north of St. Mary’s Episcopal Church at Utah Valley University in Orem. Twenty minutes into an event, conservative political commentator Charlie Kirk was shot, and was later pronounced dead at a nearby hospital. 

Our prayers are with Mr. Kirk’s family and friends as the shock of this news settles upon them. We hold in our prayers the victims of emotional trauma who were present at today’s event and the entire Utah Valley University community. We give thanks and ask for protection for all law enforcement and first responders. 

Christ stands with the victims of violence and challenges us to build a society rooted in compassion, dignity, and justice. As people of faith we believe Jesus Christ calls us to confront injustice and ideological differences with integrity and truth but never through the use of physical force or intimidation. Violence is an unacceptable response to disagreement. 

“We often say that we will pray for the victims and their families, and pray we must. But our faith demands more from us. We must guard the hatred in our hearts and on our lips; it is hatred and righteous indignation that leads to violence. Jesus said plainly, ‘it is that which is on our lips and in our hearts that defiles us.’” said The Rt. Rev. Phyllis A. Spiegel, 12th Bishop of Utah. 

As followers of Jesus Christ, we hear again his commandment: “Love one another as I have loved you” (John 13:34). In this love our prayers were not ever intended as passive vessels, but active. We are called not only to intercede for those affected but also to stand together against violence. 

As the Episcopal Church of Utah, we recommit ourselves to the way of Christ: praying fervently, speaking truthfully, resisting violence, and strengthening communities across differences. When we tolerate rhetoric of division or language that turns neighbors into “others,” we erode the bonds of community and create conditions where violence becomes a part of the narrative. 

We as a church, and as a society, must change the narrative.

Faithfully,

The Rt. Rev. Phyllis Spiegel,

12th Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Utah 

As a Rabbi, Hillel, living around the time of Jesus famously said: If I am not for myself, who is for me? If I am for myself alone, who am I? And, if not now, when? 

May our Christ and Savior Jesus, the Father, and the Holy Spirit, bring us back into communion with the household of Love that is the very heart of God, so that we might this day forsake our foolish ways and bear the very image of God we have been created to be so that we might represent God’s love to all the world: to every person, every creature, and all of creation itself. If not now, when? Amen.

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[i] Jeremiah 4:11-12

[ii] Psalm 14

[iii] McCann, J. Clinton Jr., Texts for Preaching: Year C (Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville KY:1994) p.510