CS
Lewis writes in “The Great Divorce” about a man who finds himself in a bus
queue in town that seems to be ever expanding.
The town known as the “Grey” town is enormous although sparsely
populated. The narrator wanders the
desolate town until he meets others at the bus stop who are all desiring to go
somewhere else. The narrator says, “Time
seemed to have paused on that dismal moment when only a few shops have lit up
and it is not yet dark enough for their windows to look cheering. And just as the evening never advanced to
night, so my walking had never brought me to the better parts of the
town.” The town was frozen, or
stagnant. Yet ever expanding. We are later told that the town has people
who cannot get along. So they quarrel
and get sick of their neighbor and move to edge of town. And all they have to do is imagine a house
and poof it exists. Stability for the community is the result of houses
that are separate and isolate.
The
narrator ends up at bus stop waiting for some movement. Some squabbling and fighting breaks out,
worried that they will not all fit on the bus and the line diminishes until a
manageable crowd is around and then the bus just appears. They all rush fighting to get on and when the
narrator finally steps in, there is still plenty of room. He walks past everyone, and all the empty
seats, and sits in the back.
On the bus, the conversations of the travelers
unveil their stories. The bus begins its
journey upwards and the passengers begin interacting with the narrator, telling
their story until they reach their destination, a place of abounding light…
heaven.
They
leave the bus, many concerned of when they need to return, although the bus
driver reminds them that returning is not necessary. Many are more comfortable in their desolate
homes in the grey city. The passengers
are unhappy or skeptical. This new place
is unsettling. And each passenger
realizes that as they leave the bus, they have also become ghost like or spirit
like. And then they encounter the
people.
These
new people are solid and they are inviting the ghost like spirits, the
passengers of the bus to join them. But
no one is willing. One of the new persons
is a murderer, and the person who he murdered is also in this heavenly place
with him, yet the ghost who knew both in their previous life just can’t believe
it. The people teach the ghosts that
they can become people as well. One
ghost slaps his chest, and says,
“Look
at me now. I gone straight all my
life. I don’t say I was a religious man
and I don’t say I had no faults, far from it.
But I done my best all my life, see?
I done my best by everyone, that’s the sort of chap I was. I never asked for anything that wasn’t mine
by rights. If I wanted a drink I paid
for it and if I took my wages I done my job, see? That’s the sort I was and I don’t care who
knows it… I asking for nothing but my rights.
And I got to have my rights same as you. I am not asking for anyone’s
bleeding charity…”
The
man refuses to see himself in the same company as the murderer. He is too stuck in his own mindset, unable to
grow to see himself different. If he can
only accept that he didn’t always do his best, that nobody does, and it doesn’t
matter in the least, then his body will become more solid, and he will move
from being a ghost to a person. All he
has to do is embrace unceasing joy, which takes place through repentance.
Lewis’
account tells the story of several of these “ghosts” each choosing to return
the city of separated homes. Each is
firmly rooted in their own home, a structure built up of walls of
self-righteousness, and pride, that keeps them from accepting unceasing
joy. They refuse to permanently leave
their city behind , because they are too stuck in their ways. The refuse to move into what is so
liberating, but they cannot get to that reality.
The
juxtaposition Lewis creates is that movement into the new, accepting their
limitations and faults, actually moves them from being ghostly to being solid
in this new state, or as Lewis describes, where their feet can push against the
blades of grass. If they are able to
leave everything behind, their homes, and the ever expanding ‘grey’ city they
can move into actually being grounded in the eternal place of joy.
Now
you are probably wondering, what in the world does this have to do with our
Gospel reading, the extremely confusing passage from Luke. If you are finding yourself confused after
this passage, let me reaffirm you – you are not alone. For as many possible meanings, there are even
more commentaries and thoughts and articles all trying to make sense of what
the words of Jesus meant nearly 2000 years ago and what they can mean to us
today. And there is clearly no
consensus. Which I think is an
invitation for a more creative approach of what this text could mean to each of
us, of what could be possible.
First
we have the manager for a rich man who essentially is scared of losing his job,
and wants to make some friends quickly in case his job loss becomes
reality. He essentially says, “I have
decided what to do so that when I am dismissed as a manager, people may welcome
me into their homes.” (Luke 16:4) Yet
Jesus says later that one should make friends for yourselves by means of
dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal
homes.” (Luke 16:9) I am indebted to one
commentator who suggests that our translation is obviously meant to parallel
the word ‘homes.[1]’
T
he
home that the manager seeks is (oikous) translated correctly as home. Yet the eternal home that Jesus promises is
(skenas) which in Greek actually means, tent.
While the unjust manager, who is the steward of the rich man’s wealth,
seeks a home, he is promised a tent. He
is promised a different kind of home for someone who is unable to be stable, or
secure, but instead is off wandering, or worse, a refugee.
I
wonder if Lewis’ imagery can help us consider what it means to leave the homes
we have constructed for ourselves to wander in eternity. And is wandering as pilgrim where we find a
truly solid foundation. The passage from
Luke seen in this light then suggests that wealth being given with the idea
that something will happen in return, the promise of later security fails to
give us a Holy security that we can only know from letting go. If we give something with the promise of
returns, we have tarnished the gift.
Imagine
a husband coming home from a long day’s work.
He stops by the florist and picks up flowers for his wife. They have both been overworked and over
stressed. Their marriage is being
taxed. They both arrive home near the
same time. He reaches out and hands her
the flowers. “I love you and you are so
very special to me.”
Now
imagine that same couple, same situation.
The husband reaches to hand the flowers to his wife, “I love you. And I know that it has been tough lately. And I was hoping this would make our lives
less stressful and maybe you won’t yell at me, and I figured if I got you flowers,
you would just chill a little and might stop giving me such a hard time.” Doesn’t really work does it? A gift
predicated on something in return is not a gift. It keeps us focused on maintaining the status
quo, or returning to where we came from.
This second gift of flowers expects the two lovers to move back to where
they were before the fight, not changed and not growing from their challenging
life together. In actuality, there is no
moving backwards. Grace comes from
accepting, growing, and stepping forward in perpetual transition. The first gift accepts the challenges of
marriage and says, let us keep working.
This is grace.
Our
Collect today says, “Grant us Lord, not be anxious about earthly things, but to
love things heavenly.” So often our lives are a system of bartering. We do something with the promise of a gift in
return. Maybe we are nice, with the hope
that someone will like us. “Or we say, I
can’t believe that person was so rude.
Do they remember when I helped them out ten years ago?” This is trying to be rooted in the houses
that we build. Yet Jesus promises an
eternal joy that resides in heavenly tent living, constantly moving around,
never completely settled, never focused on what we can get in return. Maybe in that we learn a little bit more
about the nature of God. A God who gives
us all, never expecting a gift in return, only a journey with him that opens
our world to unceasing joy. Amen
Sermon Preached on September 22nd
Sermon Preached on September 22nd
[1]
Scott Bader-Saye, “Theological Perspective: Luke 16:1-13” Feasting on the
Word. Year C, Volume IV
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