Expect the Unexpected

A few years before I left Houston the city launched a major advertising campaign. They put together a blue ribbon committee to explore ways to promote Houston and sell its merits as a place to visit and live. The theme that they developed for this advertising campaign was "Expect the Unexpected." It’s interesting that they used this phrase to try to entice people into coming to Houston, to catch people’s interest and excitement. "Expect the Unexpected!" In my experience in the church, at least, most people do not want to expect the unexpected. This is not a positive or enticing statement. In general, people tend to expect the expected, look forward to the customary, hang on to the familiar.

Expectations. Part of what today’s gospel reading is about is life after death. What do you expect to happen after life? The fact that there is some sort of existence after death is clearly assumed by Luke. Both Lazarus and the nameless rich man speak and think and feel after they have died. But did they find what they expected to find in life after death?

We may be quite sure that the rich man did not. The English poet and satirist Hilaire Belloc has written a poem about the rich man as he passes over from this life to the next. Belloc sets the story within the realm of Greek mythology, but it is Luke’s parable. The rich man is called Dives, Latin for "rich" and he is greeted by Charon, gatekeeper of the realm of death. Seeing the baggage that Dives plans to bring with him Charon says,

As the rich man entered death, he expected the expected. What I like about this poem is that it captures so fully a manner of life, a set of expectations about how life is ordered, how things should be. And the poem exposes the folly of a man who expects the afterlife to conform exactly to the manner of life that he has known before death. Dives approaches hell expecting the expected—that even in hell the social hierarchy will be maintained and he will be treated as a wealthy lord. He views himself as a guest, doing what a guest is expected to do—bringing champagne for his host, gifts for his hosts children, and even three treats for his host’s (three-headed) dog. He has planned for the journey, bringing extra shoes and a coat specially made for the chill of the river crossing into hell. And, ultimately he expects to be treated with hospitality to which he is accustomed.

At first glance this poem and today’s parable appear to be elaborations on the familiar theme: you can’t take it with you. Or it could be interpreted in an even harsher tone. Not only can you not take material wealth with you, God will punish those who have been wealthy in life and reward those who have been poor.

But I tend to read this parable in a slightly different light. I think it is less specifically about wealth and more about general expectations. It is not about God punishing the wealthy. It is about a man who spent an entire lifetime cultivating a self-serving lifestyle only to make the shocking discovery that the manner of life to which he was accustomed was not possible in death. Life after death was not what he expected. For him, that was hell indeed. It was his own misguided expectations that condemned him.

We might say that we are not like that rich man in Jesus’ story. We know that the power that seems to come with wealth is not real power. We know that caring for our fellow human beings is more important than feeding our inordinate desires. We know that covetousness and greed are sins that separate us from God. We know that personal status and security are insignificant compared with our relationship with God. We are not so deluded as that self-centered rich man; we know better.

We would never expect God in heaven to wait upon our convenience. We would never expect our personal priorities to rule in the realm of eternal life. We would never expect our material acquisitions to have any value or meaning in the next life.

Then why do we live the way we do?

Jesus’ parable is a reminder to us to set our expectations in order. We have the opportunity to model our daily lives upon our expectations of what eternal life will hold. Stop and think about what you really hope and expect heaven to be like. And then seek, as best you can, to strive for such a life on earth. It may not be the sort of life you have grown accustomed to expecting here on earth, but it should not be a burden. If we expect eternal life to be wondrous, filled with love and peace and the presence of God, why on earth would we hesitate to strive after that goodness and wonder now?

Try it.

St. Francis’ Day is this week. There is a prayer attributed to St. Francis that may be familiar to many of you. Listen. It is a heavenly lifestyle he describes:

"Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life."

Try it. And see if you don’t find in this life much, much more of eternal life than you ever expected.

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