16th Sunday after Pentecost

Grace be to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

We are reading today from Paul’s letter to his friend and protegee Timothy. “There is great gain in godliness combined with contentment; for we brought nothing into the world, so that we can take nothing out of it; but if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that.”

Last week, I had just read these words when I went to the nursing home to visit our sister Georgia. Georgia is 96 years old. The week before, Georgia had fallen in her home, had injured her hand, and spent a couple of days in the hospital. Now she resides at the nursing home for rehabilitation.

Georgia’s whole life had just changed. For 76 years, she had lived in the farmhouse she had shared with her husband; the home in which she had raised her children and then welcomed grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Now she was taken out of her cozy, familiar home and brought to a health facility where she had a small room, shared with a roommate. When I visited her, she sat in the armchair, and I sat on the bed for there was nowhere else to sit in the small space Georgia now lived in.

She would have had ample reason to complain, to bemoan her fate, to resent what was happening to her. Yet when I visited her, she was her usual lovely self. She told me how everyone there was so nice to her, and the food was good. She told me that she was grateful for her children and the way they cared for her, and for other family and friends who visited her. “Grateful” was a word she used several times. “I am grateful.”

Georgia is one of the saints among us who inspire me. That day, she gave me a moving illustration for the wisdom Paul is sharing with his friend Timothy: “There is great gain in godliness combined with contentment; if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that.” Georgia lived that.

In her presence, I was reminded of the tone or concern or motivation behind Pauls’ words. They are not uttered as a commandment: ‘You shall be content! Stop your whining and complaining.’ Instead, they are uttered as a guide to a better, happier, more pleasant, more fulfilled life; or, as Paul himself writes at the end of today’s reading: a life that really is life.

When we are not content with what we have, we easily slip into jealousy. I have repeatedly wrestled with that myself. Last month, my brother sent lovely pictures of his family vacationing in the Alps in Germany. They had spontaneously decided to make a weekend trip into the mountains. Sad to admit, but my initial reaction was: ‘Must be nice. Must be nice to have the kind of job where you can just take off for a weekend without elaborate preparations. Must be nice to have the money for something like this.’

I soon told myself to cut it out. This kind of jealousy would negatively impact my relationship with my brother. And it would make the vacation I recently enjoyed in New Hampshire look paltry, diminishing the gift it had been to me. And it would give me an overall sour-puss attitude that wouldn’t be fun for anyone to be around.

Instead, I focused on being happy for my brother and his family. How nice that they got away. How nice that they shared their joy with me. How nice that we all got to enjoy time off with people we love. We are all so blessed.

That sentiment of “We are all so blessed” is the contentment Paul is writing about. It is the attitude that allows us to cherish our blessings and gain joy and strength from them. It leads to a healthy relationship with God, the source of all blessings. It fosters good relationships with other people, because we no longer compare ourselves to them. It leads to the life that really is life.

Operating out of a sense of contentment and blessing allows us to be generous. When we are content with what we have, it becomes much easier for us to share. And a world where people share is a better world for everyone involved.

Which brings us to the parable about Lazarus and the rich man.

The rich man does not want to share. Poor man Lazarus is lying at his gates longing for something to eat or drink, but the rich man ignores him. One might wonder if he is even aware of Lazarus being there; yet later, when he looks up from his place of torment and sees Lazarus in Abraham’s lap, he not only recognizes the guy, he actually knows his name! So yes, the rich man knew full well that there was a hungry, dying man at his doorstep. But he decided to do nothing for him. No compassion. No charity. No gratitude and contentment leading to generosity.

As a result, Lazarus does not get to have life that really is life. Without the rich man’s charity, he is hungry and thirsty and homeless, and dogs are licking his wounds. So sad.

The rich man also does not have a life that really is life. He knows the poor man is out there. He knows what he is supposed to do; Moses and the prophets are very clear as to how people of God are to treat the poor. Every time he looks out of the window and sees Lazarus, he makes a willful decision to look away. Every time he leaves his property, he walks by Lazarus and pretends not to see him. Keeping his conscience at bay must have taken enormous effort. It must have diminished his enjoyment of the rich life.

Neither man was content. Neither man had the life that really is life. How different the situation could have been!

We saw an example for that in the news this week. Martin Luther once commented on the parable of Lazarus: “You can’t feed every beggar in the world, but you can feed the one at your gate.” That’s what the people of Martha’s Vineyard did when two planes full of migrants from Venezuela were dumped into their community.

The island of Martha’s Vineyard has a reputation as a vacation spot for the rich and famous. How would poor modern-day Lazarus’s be treated there? Turns out: with compassion.

Small St. Andrew’s Episcopal church invited the migrants in. Cots were set up in the social hall. People got busy in the kitchen, providing food and drink. Other community organizations brought donations of water, clothes, personal hygiene supplies, and help. Volunteers stayed overnight with the migrants in case some unexpected need arose.

The rector of the Episcopal congregation told the Washington Post: “We’re doing what churches are supposed to do and taking care of people as they show up.”

The Catholic archbishop of Miami said, “The immigrants are not faceless numbers — but human persons. They are our brothers and sisters; justice and prudence demand that we treat them with dignity.”

Where do they get this understanding? From Jesus Christ. Our Lord and Savior told us that what we do for the least of God’s children we do for Jesus. How we treat the poor is how we treat God. Jesus himself modeled love for the marginalized, constantly reaching out to the poor, the sick, the outcast, the powerless.

In his letter to Timothy, Paul bases his advice about contentment and generosity and godliness and love on his faith in Jesus Christ. He reminds Timothy of his own public profession of faith in Jesus and follows that up by exuberant praise of Christ.

Faith in Christ and trust in God’s goodness lead to contentment and gratitude, which in turn lead to compassion and generosity. And compassionate and generous people of God create a community where everyone is seen and loved and taken care off.

Compare the two kinds of community we looked at today. Which one would you rather be part of?

There is the world of Lazarus and the rich man. The poor man suffers and dies alone. The rich man has to invest a lot of energy in not seeing the poor, in pretending that everything is fine. A gate separates them, a chasm is gaping between them, and they both suffer in their own way by themselves.

There is the world of the little church on Martha’s Vineyard, full of people of faith who are content with what they have and thus are willing to share. They see the poor and open their gates to them. Images in the news show people hugging each other, lending a shoulder to cry on, eating together at long tables. Even though the situation is challenging, there are tentative smiles among the people. Hope has been restored. A way is opening up for the migrants to take hold of the life that really is life.

Which community is the one you want to be part of? Which is the one Jesus wants us to be? Not a hard question, is it?

Calvary’s mission statement rhymes perfectly with this: As followers of Jesus, we are called to be an inclusive and compassionate community, where everyone is connected in relationship with God and each other to foster wholeness of mind and soul.

Our worship includes two special elements today. Both of them connect with this mission.

We are baptizing Michael this morning. We are welcoming Michael into the community of faith gathered around Jesus Christ. Today, God will adopt Michael into the family of believers and will bless him with the gift of the Holy Spirit. God is saying to Michael: I see you, and I care about you, and I will be with you always. I will help you grow in faith. I want you to take hold of the life that really is life.

We are offering healing prayers today. Weighed down by burdens or grief or anxiety, we are blessed by brothers and sisters in Christ who share their compassion with us. They see us and care about us. They lay their hands on us and pray with us. They connect us with the healing power of God that enables us to take hold of the life that really is life.

Life that really is life: May we receive this gift by living contentedly and gratefully, trusting in God’s grace. Amen.