Give me your poor
Luke 16: 19-31
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
September 25, 2022
This week I started watching Ken Burns’ miniseries “The U.S. and the Holocaust” on PBS. It is searing in its scope and tells the truth in no uncertain terms. Like any medicine it is best if it is taken in doses. Burns begins the narrative in the 1920s with the immigrant experience and the plight of refugees, linking their rejection as a prelude to genocide. In the first episode entitled “The Golden Door” we hear the famous poem “The New Colossus” written in 1883 by Emma Lazarus, a descendant of Portuguese Jews who fled the Inquisition. The poem was engraved on a plaque in 1903 at the Statue of Liberty:
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles.
From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
It is the vision of someone for whom coming to this country is life rather than the certain death they left behind. It is the feeling of the stranger, the exile, people who are indeed tired and poor, who have huddled together for survival, who could not breathe freely, who were treated as refuse, forcibly removed from their homes, and thus wretched, heartbroken. The golden door is both an image of wealth and the afterlife. In the imaginations of those who would come here, the American Dream and the image of Lady Liberty became intertwined, like heaven on earth.
And yet there have always been others who want that golden door through which they entered to remain shut. Before the first World War, U.S. borders for the most part were largely open. But war makes for refugees requiring asylum and immigrants looking for a better life. Those seeking freedom viewed the Statue of Liberty as welcome and hospitality while those who wanted to protect what they had acquired saw her as a militant guardian, one poet referring to her as a “white Goddess”. For the first time immigration was restricted to quotas, both for certain countries and particular ethnicities. Attitudes regarding Jewish immigrants were just as divided in the U.S. as they were in Europe, even so far as turning ships away from our shores. Then after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, Japanese American citizens were forcibly moved to internment camps.
It is not much of a stretch to hear the parable of the rich man and Lazarus in the immigration history of our country or any nation of means. “There once was a rich nation whose people kept up with the latest fashions and dined out whenever it pleased them. And at their gates of entry lingered refugees fleeing from violence and immigrants from abject poverty who longed to satisfy their hunger for a decent life from the trickle-down economics, the jobs no one else will do, the hand-me-downs and leftovers of this rich nation. The dogs of this country had more compassion for these people than the rich did.”
The story then ventures into the afterlife (or perhaps the aftermath) where the poor receive justice and comfort and the rich suffer eternal torment, not unlike the protest cries of “Eat the rich” we hear today. It can be emotionally satisfying to imagine those who had the resources and ignored those who didn’t getting their just desserts. Yet deriving enjoyment from someone’s punishment dehumanizes us as much as them. Likewise, reserving justice and comfort for the poor to the afterlife condemns all of us in this life.
I have a joke about trickle-down economics. 99% of you won’t get it.
If our Christianity makes anyone with wealth feel comfortable and the poor feel unsafe, the able-bodied comfortable and the disabled feel unsafe, we can sure we are being discipled by something other than Jesus.
Throughout the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, we read that God wants all of us to make it, to have enough, to live well, to be whole. Jesus says it’s hard but it’s not impossible for the rich to enter the kindom nor should the poor be consigned to be poor all their lives. It’s not sinful to be rich, it’s what you do with what you have. And no one should be punished for being poor.
If there is any good news to be had in this parable it is that we do not have to earn our way into the kindom, into wholeness but then neither should anyone else. We do not seem to think twice about subsidizing the rich, so why not subsidize the poor? Why is it easier to save a bank from failing than to save families from failing? We make it so hard to be poor in this country, to be a refugee or immigrant, to be disabled. Some have even called it a war. We have put a chasm between the haves and have-nots, and we have seen it before. Even though we have Moses and the prophets, we need only to look back a century to know what in all probability could happen to those society deems a burden. Rejection is a prelude to genocide.
Truth is, we’re already in the middle of it. Puerto Rico is under water and without power. Trans kids can’t get the healthcare they need. Immigrants are being used as political pawns. The disabled and chronically ill continue to be isolated because of lowered Covid restrictions and we’re moving on without them. Here in New Castle County money is running out to care for the unhoused who have nowhere to go. The question that is being asked of us is, “Do we want all of us to make it?” We are a church, a community that answers “yes”. The saving of the poor is the saving of humanity. Our future depends on it.
Benediction—from "Red Brocade" by Naomi Shihab Nye
The Arabs used to say,
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he’s come from,
where he’s headed.
That way, he’ll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you’ll be
such good friends
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
September 25, 2022
 |
| Photo of the Statue of Liberty in shadow, facing away from the camera. The sky is full of clouds, some lit by the sunrise in hues of deep coral, purple, blue, and gray. |
This week I started watching Ken Burns’ miniseries “The U.S. and the Holocaust” on PBS. It is searing in its scope and tells the truth in no uncertain terms. Like any medicine it is best if it is taken in doses. Burns begins the narrative in the 1920s with the immigrant experience and the plight of refugees, linking their rejection as a prelude to genocide. In the first episode entitled “The Golden Door” we hear the famous poem “The New Colossus” written in 1883 by Emma Lazarus, a descendant of Portuguese Jews who fled the Inquisition. The poem was engraved on a plaque in 1903 at the Statue of Liberty:
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles.
From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
It is the vision of someone for whom coming to this country is life rather than the certain death they left behind. It is the feeling of the stranger, the exile, people who are indeed tired and poor, who have huddled together for survival, who could not breathe freely, who were treated as refuse, forcibly removed from their homes, and thus wretched, heartbroken. The golden door is both an image of wealth and the afterlife. In the imaginations of those who would come here, the American Dream and the image of Lady Liberty became intertwined, like heaven on earth.
 |
| Photo from Ken Burns' "The US and the Holocaust", of Jewish children aboard a ship waving to the Statue of Liberty. Quite a contrast to some other arms raised in fascism thinking they're patriots. I cried when the narrator read the caption: "and that you're going to be able to live and grow old..." |
And yet there have always been others who want that golden door through which they entered to remain shut. Before the first World War, U.S. borders for the most part were largely open. But war makes for refugees requiring asylum and immigrants looking for a better life. Those seeking freedom viewed the Statue of Liberty as welcome and hospitality while those who wanted to protect what they had acquired saw her as a militant guardian, one poet referring to her as a “white Goddess”. For the first time immigration was restricted to quotas, both for certain countries and particular ethnicities. Attitudes regarding Jewish immigrants were just as divided in the U.S. as they were in Europe, even so far as turning ships away from our shores. Then after the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, Japanese American citizens were forcibly moved to internment camps.
 |
| Photo from Ken Burns' "The US and the Holocaust", Bund Summer Camp, Andover Township, New Jersey, 1940. Adult and young adult men in brownshirt uniforms holding American and Nazi flags prepare to march in formation. |
It is not much of a stretch to hear the parable of the rich man and Lazarus in the immigration history of our country or any nation of means. “There once was a rich nation whose people kept up with the latest fashions and dined out whenever it pleased them. And at their gates of entry lingered refugees fleeing from violence and immigrants from abject poverty who longed to satisfy their hunger for a decent life from the trickle-down economics, the jobs no one else will do, the hand-me-downs and leftovers of this rich nation. The dogs of this country had more compassion for these people than the rich did.”
The story then ventures into the afterlife (or perhaps the aftermath) where the poor receive justice and comfort and the rich suffer eternal torment, not unlike the protest cries of “Eat the rich” we hear today. It can be emotionally satisfying to imagine those who had the resources and ignored those who didn’t getting their just desserts. Yet deriving enjoyment from someone’s punishment dehumanizes us as much as them. Likewise, reserving justice and comfort for the poor to the afterlife condemns all of us in this life.
 |
| From the Congressional Budget Office. Chart of total family wealth in trillions of 2019 dollars, from 1989-2019. The top 10% went from roughly 40% to 110%. The 51st to 90th percentile went from 10% to about 25%. The bottom 50% has remained almost the same at 2%. For 40 years. |
I have a joke about trickle-down economics. 99% of you won’t get it.
If our Christianity makes anyone with wealth feel comfortable and the poor feel unsafe, the able-bodied comfortable and the disabled feel unsafe, we can sure we are being discipled by something other than Jesus.
Throughout the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, we read that God wants all of us to make it, to have enough, to live well, to be whole. Jesus says it’s hard but it’s not impossible for the rich to enter the kindom nor should the poor be consigned to be poor all their lives. It’s not sinful to be rich, it’s what you do with what you have. And no one should be punished for being poor.
If there is any good news to be had in this parable it is that we do not have to earn our way into the kindom, into wholeness but then neither should anyone else. We do not seem to think twice about subsidizing the rich, so why not subsidize the poor? Why is it easier to save a bank from failing than to save families from failing? We make it so hard to be poor in this country, to be a refugee or immigrant, to be disabled. Some have even called it a war. We have put a chasm between the haves and have-nots, and we have seen it before. Even though we have Moses and the prophets, we need only to look back a century to know what in all probability could happen to those society deems a burden. Rejection is a prelude to genocide.
Truth is, we’re already in the middle of it. Puerto Rico is under water and without power. Trans kids can’t get the healthcare they need. Immigrants are being used as political pawns. The disabled and chronically ill continue to be isolated because of lowered Covid restrictions and we’re moving on without them. Here in New Castle County money is running out to care for the unhoused who have nowhere to go. The question that is being asked of us is, “Do we want all of us to make it?” We are a church, a community that answers “yes”. The saving of the poor is the saving of humanity. Our future depends on it.
Benediction—from "Red Brocade" by Naomi Shihab Nye
The Arabs used to say,
When a stranger appears at your door,
feed him for three days
before asking who he is,
where he’s come from,
where he’s headed.
That way, he’ll have strength
enough to answer.
Or, by then you’ll be
such good friends
you don’t care.
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