10 or 12 out of 1700: The false arithmetic of salvation

Luke 16:19-31

Well, today is my chance to go fire and brimstone on you… but I’m not going to do it. There’s a problem with trying to make the story of Lazarus and the rich man into a fire and brimstone Gospel: there’s nothing about repentance in this story—nothing. It doesn’t say repent or burn, as we can imagine any number of preachers and prophets saying. Furthermore, the fire and brimstone message seems inconsistent with the Gospel of Luke. In this very same Gospel, Jesus has said A) you are rich and you can never give enough away, and B) rich people are tormented for eternity in hell. Doesn’t it suddenly seem like a long time since we were singing “What a fellowship, what a joy divine?”

             There are other reasons why the fire and brimstone approach just doesn’t work in this reading. When I was in school at Augustana College I once had a guy from Campus Crusade for Christ come up and talk with me. Actually, that’s a lie, probably fifty times I had a guy from Campus Crusade for Christ come up and talk with me. Campus Crusade, which is also known as CRU, is an organization that basically does what their title says: they crusade for Christ—even on a campus that was explicitly Lutheran and almost overwhelmingly Christian. Anyway, in this conversation, the CRU guy asked me if I believed in hell. Of course, being the know-nothing college student (no matter my major in religion) I stumbled all over whatever it was I thought on the subject. I didn’t know what I believed; I hadn’t thought through all my mixed thoughts and feelings on the subject, and so I found it terrifying to be cornered and prodded about my faith. It wasn’t that I didn’t think about it; I just hadn’t yet figured out what made sense to me. I’m guessing some of you have been there. Most of us are open to thinking about matters of religion, but we are awfully timid to put our finger on a thing and say, “Yes, that is my faith.” So, when that CRU representative asked me about hell I didn’t know what to say. It’s moments like those that remind me to sympathize with our Confirmation students. The last thing we need is the pastor asking what you believe, you not being sure (not disinterested, just not sure), and then, after being forced to articulate some half thought-out idea, the pastor shoots it down as unworthy of your belief.

            This is why people don’t like talking in church. You’re not disinterested (after all, you are here), but you haven’t got it figured out. And you know what? That’s OK. So, returning to the CRU rep, this guy went on to tell me that the Bible is clear that there is a hell for those sinners who do not repent—probably, I assumed, those people who did not join CRU and lift their hands up to the sky during worship songs or something like that. And I partly believed him. After all, we confess that there is a hell in the Apostles’ Creed; that’s where Jesus went after dying before even rising from the dead. But, in another sense, the interest in hellfire troubled me. It troubled me for the same reason today’s Gospel troubles me, because taken on its own it makes perfect sense. Don’t be a rich snob, love the poor, and God will love you in return. That is a simple, straightforward message. The problem isn’t that it’s difficult to follow-through—if that were so then the Christian faith would merely be about rigorous discipline—but it’s not difficult to do; it’s actually impossible.

            You’ve heard me say this before: you can’t give away everything. If we gave everything away we would die, which seems to be exactly what Jesus wants from us. Deny yourself, pick up your cross and follow, he says. But if in some perfect world all of us did exactly this to the point of giving up our own lives, we would actually then be in direct conflict with another of God’s laws, which is to be fruitful and multiply. If you follow the clear and obvious meaning of scripture to its last detail you must be fruitful, multiply and fill the earth, while simultaneously picking up your cross and following Jesus to your death. That’s the path to heaven. Good luck.

            So, what are we left with? What more do we have if this clear meaning of scripture is a riddle that appears unsolvable? The more I think about it; the more I think it all hinges on the last line when Abraham tells the rich man, suffering in hell, “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'”

            Well, what if somebody did rise from the dead? What if this story isn’t just a parable about rich people and poor people? What if it is actually foreshadowing the future? If listening to Moses and the prophets does not work, then even Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, will not convince anybody. I believe that is precisely the world in which we live. We are not convinced by Moses, nor the prophets (I know because every time we read from the laws of the Old Testament your eyes close a little bit more… and a little bit more), but neither are we convinced even by the risen Jesus. If we were we would give everything, but we don’t and so none of us do enough to justify getting into heaven. None of us match up to the Campus Crusade checklist. I once heard from a friend who had a conversation with a CRU rep (it might have been the same guy, I don’t know), who asked him, “How many people do you think are saved at Augustana?” You’ve all heard some version of this question, even if it’s the most patently stupid question a faithful Christian can ask. “I don’t know,” my friend said, “What do you think?”

The CRU rep said, straight-faced, “Maybe 10 or 12.” 10 or 12 out of 1700 students, not to mention faculty or staff. But to the CRU leader this is the kind of divine arithmetic that makes sense, because to them a relationship with Jesus is a lot of work on our behalf. It is discipline and restraint and all those virtues your grandparents taught you, because the hardest reward demands the hardest work. The problem with that philosophy is that we are fooling ourselves if we think that even 10 or 12 out of 1700 would be good enough by those criteria. It’s not 10 or 12. It’s zero. We don’t match up. I don’t know those CRU reps personally—I’m sure they are devoted Christians and wonderful people—but I know for certain that they do not match up to Jesus’ criteria.

            The only hope any of us have is that when Jesus died the rules of the game changed. When we confess our faith in the Apostles’ Creed we proclaim that Jesus died and descended into hell before ever rising from the dead. Maybe you’ve never stopped to think about that, except possibly to become a little uneasy that we’re talking about hell in church, but it’s a fantastic thing. Jesus Christ, the Savior of the world, went to hell for us. That means that you can go absolutely nowhere in the world or in the heavens or even into the depths of hell that God has not been. Even hell. And that is a powerfully important thing, because the truth is that we can have no certainty where we are heading without Christ. Even if we follow the law and the prophets, even if we say we believe in Jesus Christ, a part of us will hold firm—the part of us that resonates with the rich man, who may very well have given food to Lazarus in his lifetime (after all, why was Lazarus always there if he received nothing in return?), but just not enough; never enough. That’s where we stand before the resurrection, on the precipice of never doing enough.

            The plight of the rich man is our plight. Don’t think you’re any better than that. But, on the other hand, we have a Savior who gave himself up so that in spite of that we do not face the same destination, so that—when we meet Abraham on the other side of the veil—we do not have to justify our goodness but have only to point to the one who was goodness on our behalf.

            Thanks be to God for that.