Luke's Wicked Sense of Humor

Good ol' Luke.

I suspect a twinkle in his eye many a time as he wrote the gospel, tweaking the noses of the know-it-alls, and catching the proud (and who isn't?) off guard.

Today's lection, the rich man (Oh Lordy, listen to the trumpets and watch the security detail in their black SUVs) and, oh wait a minute, does the rich man have a name?

And Lazarus, a stinking little man full of sores and sorrow, groveling on the ground for a few of the rich man's crumbs ... friendless, a companion of raggedy street dogs ...

But, wait, he has a name, a real name, and later in the story, this sad mess of sores gets to sit on the lap of Abraham, while the rich man, a critter without a name, a self-serving bag of pride, goes without a name, and he's hot and he thirsty, and still expects Lazarus to come a-running to wait upon him.

He's not worth naming; his worth is in himself, his possessions and his power. He has what he wants, and so he's lost his name. Like all the rich, so full of themselves, a dime a dozen as God sees it.

But it's Lazarus, the man with nothing, who smells to high heaven with sores and disease, likely condemned by the rich man for being lazy, or stupid, why, he has a name.

Precious in the sight of the LORD.

A name.

I think Luke was chuckling to himself when he wrote the story, recalling how Jesus so often tweaked the noses of the rich and the powerful.

Recalling the moment, perhaps, as Luke witnessed it, or more likely, as Luke heard it from others, that Jesus, too, had a twinkle in his eye, a wicked sense of humor, as he made it clear to those who worked so hard to make a name for themselves, that in God's realm, they have no name at all; they've traded it away for goods.

And the stinking man, licked by the dogs, beneath the table of the rich, well, pay attention folks, because he has a name!