Communion as Pleasure

Fr David R. Smith interprets the parable of the Rich man and Lazarus in a very interesting way in the following adapted extract from his book "Christianity and Pleasure." In this particular reading, the parable is used to highlight the importance of communion with others, compassion for other, and the locating of desire for the sake of the other. If desire restored is to be desire to be planted in the will of God then Fr David's reading of the parable resonates with the kenotic offering of self that is manifest in our Lord Christ, manifest in all His saints starting with the Holy Theotokos, and which so often challenges Christians and the world.

"Then Mary said, “Behold the maidservant of the Lord! Let it be to me according to your word.” And the angel departed from her." Luke 1:38 

"For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known." 1 Cor 13:12

Towards a Higher Pleasure

by Fr. David R. Smith

How can it be that a woman who literally weeps from fatigue still rises from sleep to comfort a crying child? How does a man run headlong into certain danger in order to save another — even someone he may have never met? The decision people make to give of themselves brings them joy, even though suffering and sometimes death may accompany it. And in some cases, became suffering and death are included. The moment of giving rises from, and gives rise to, gratitude and peace, the experience of communion, a prelude to all life that follows, the birth of a relationship, the noble act which becomes a standard of character. Sometimes the sacrifice gives birth to a relationship with the person who has benefited, but sometimes not. Either way, a communion develops between the giver and mankind, or between the giver and God Himself. Nothing enriches relationships like sacrifice.




In what way does this contribute to our discussion of Christianity and pleasure? How does the sacrificial, communal experience of pleasure relate to the other, simpler forms of pleasure? In order to answer this, we must constantly ask ourselves a question: How we can focus the pleasures we love toward the relationships that most nourish our spiritual lives?

We can get started with the gospel story of the Rich Man and Lazarus. In this story, a rich man who lives in a beautiful home, wears beautiful clothing, and eats good food every day, dies. At the same time, a beggar named Lazarus who would lie at the rich man’s gate and fight with the dogs for scraps of food also dies. The bulk of the story consists of a conversation between the rich man and the Patriarch Abraham concerning the character of the afterlife:

And being in torments in Hades, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom.

“Then he cried and said, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus that he may dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am tormented in tins flame.’ But Abraham said, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted and you are tormented. And besides all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed, so that those who want to pass from here to you cannot, nor can those from there pass to us.’

“Then he said, ‘I beg you therefore, father, that you would send him to my father’s house, for I have five brothers, that he may testify to them, lest they also come to this place of torment.’ Abraham said to him, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them.’ And he said ‘No, father Abraham; but if one goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ But he said to him, 

‘If they do not hear Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded through one rise from the dead.’”

Abraham’s first answer to the rich man’s request for water can easily be interpreted as saying that those who experience pleasure on earth pay for it by going to hell, and that those who are denied pleasure on earth are reimbursed by an eternity in heaven: “Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things; but now he is comforted and you are tormented.” The afterlife, from this perspective, simply consists of the opposite of one’s experience on earth, at least as it relates to pleasure. Every moment you suffer on earth drives your soul ever upward and every good experience stokes the flames of hell a little hotter.

This interpretation might give those who suffer some hope about the future. But what of those who do not gain hope from Abraham’s words? I mean, those who identify more with feasting sumptuously than with dogs licking their sores? Clearly, the story makes us (because if you’re reading this now, I’m assuming you have more in common with the rich man than with Lazarus) feel a little guilty about the pleasures of life we enjoy, right? Abraham seems to say to the rich man that the fact that he lived a life of pleasure in this world caused his condemnation. Is he also deliberately allowing Lazarus to overhear his words, hoping that he will learn that the suffering he endured on earth caused his salvation?

I don’t think so. After all, imagine if things had gone a little differently. What if the rich man looked out his window and saw Lazarus, went out, chased away the dogs, cleaned his sores, and brought him inside for a plate of that sumptuous food. What would happen then? Should Lazarus have refused to come, seeking to suffer as much as possible in order to gain heaven? And yet, it seems like that’s what Abraham would have wanted — for the rich man to help Lazarus. But would that have caused Lazarus to suffer all the more in the next world? Perhaps the rich man’s charity would have endangered Lazarus’ place in Abraham’s bosom. How, in that case, would help help at all? Worse yet, perhaps Lazarus would stay at the rich man’s house and eat the good food, dressed in some nice clothing while the rich man went out to find other men who needed his charity. Then if they both died at that moment, their places in the afterlife would come up exactly the opposite from the gospel story. Lazarus in hell, perhaps a tummy ache rather than fire torturing him, and the rich man in Abraham’s bosom. Hardly the goal of charity, to be sure.

This doesn’t make any sense. The enjoyment of pleasure was not the problem the rich man had. The story teaches us that his selfishness, his neglect of the poor man outside his doorway brought about his condemnation. If this were not the case, why would Jesus tell us about two men who lived in the same place and died at the same time? The story could have illustrated that pleasure in this world equals suffering in the next by saying: “There was a rich man who died, and of course, since he was rich, he went straight to hell.” But no. This rich man had a poor man suffering on his very doorstep, and he did nothing about it.

There has to be something more in this story. Abraham tells the rich man that he’s suffering because of all the pleasure he experienced on earth. But why does he not address the subject of charity? One answer might be that Abraham had heard the rich man say, while alive, “Look at that man out in front of my house. What a lazy bum. He deserves to suffer, and I (who work hard for my money) deserve to have pleasure.” For the rich man, this was a statement of justice. One can hear an echo of this in the rich man’s words from the story — he tells Abraham to give Lazarus dungs to do. It’s like he’s finding Lazarus a job. “I recognize that bum in your arms, Abraham. He hung around my place when I was on earth. Hey, I’ll tell you what, I have something for him to do. Tell him to get me some water, that’ll get him out of your hair for awhile. What’s that? He can’t? Well, then send him back to earth to talk to my brothers. At least then he’ll be good for something.” The rich man sees Lazarus only through eyes of justice, or commerce. Abraham’s answer turns his own attitude of justice back upon him: “You had pleasure while he suffered, now he gets pleasure and you suffer. It’s only fair.”

But there is something much deeper in our Lord’s teaching beyond the fact that the rich man withheld charity from Lazarus. One must be struck by the de-personalization of the two mam figures — the rich man in his house eating and Lazarus, close by, outside suffering. Perhaps both of them thinking about the issue of pleasure with no reference to the other man. Even after the two of them die, they do not speak to each other at all. This deepens the lesson behind the story of the rich man and Lazarus — our Lord is telling us that we must speak to one another. We must spend time with one another. The rich man’s sin was not primarily the pleasure that he experienced or the charity he neglected to show. It was the reluctance he had to invest any of his life in Lazarus’ life.

We learn this lesson only through great effort. I decided before Thanksgiving one year that our family would go to a program at a local church and help them serve a big traditional meal to the poor and disadvantaged. I expected that it would give my children some sense of their own blessings, since they would see first hand the poverty of some of our neighbors. Of course, I knew that this never really works. Children become thankful for what they have only when they get old enough to understand what goes into making money and buying things. Sure enough, while we served the meals I could see an insurmountable wall between the people who came to the dinner and my children. They waited on the tables, and smiled, and said “Happy Thanksgiving,” but they said nothing more at all and had no concern for the people other than filling their cups of coffee and asking which kind of pie they wanted.

I’m not even talking about “communion with another person.” I would have been happy with one extra word. How difficult it can be!

What starts in youth often continues throughout one’s life. I’ve said before how I often need to deliver written warnings to underachieving employees where I work. The job really belongs to other members of my staff, but I’ve found that they do everything in their power to avoid it. Why? Because showing people how to do their job better is not nice? Because the charges on the written warning are not true? No, not at all. People hate this job because delivering a written warning to an employee forces you to engage that person. Emotion will pass between you. Perhaps you’ll look deeply into one another’s eyes. Uncomfortable silences happen. Perhaps some yelling. Only very rarely is it clean and quick and pleasant. Normally, communing with another person in this context takes a great deal of energy.

Energy is really what we’re talking about. Why don’t we spend time speaking with people heart-to-heart? It’s not a lack of time, it’s a lack of willingness to spend energy. We simply don’t want to take the effort to be charitable, other than to send a check now and then. Is that enough? The story of the rich man and Lazarus calls us not only to practice charity, but to embrace a life of charity.

Perhaps some of you are thinking that the parable of the rich man and Lazarus has nothing to do with relationship building, only with God’s desire that we show charity to those in need. If you’re thinking this, let me tell you why I disagree. I believe that communing with people, taking the time to know people, putting energy into people, showing love above and beyond simply practicing charity puts us closer to the will of God.

I can show you a thousand people who have charitable hearts whose afterlife will be identical to the rich man’s. And why? Because charity does not equal a love for God, or even a love for mankind. People practice charity for a multitude of reasons, many of which have nothing to do with their spiritual lives. And while I can show you a thousand whose charity cannot save them, I ask you to show me one man who could — being m the same situation as the rich man in the gospel — step outside his house to speak heart-to-heart with Lazarus and not decide to help him in some meaningful way. Could anyone do that? No.

Now certainly, a conversation with a poor man (or any other charity) cannot save anyone’s soul from eternal death and separation from God, not at all. But I’m saying that genuine charity happens in some kind of relationship, some kind of sacrifice, some kind of giving up the energy you don’t think you have. Some kind of experience of the pleasure of communing with another person.

Source: Fr. David R. Smith, "Christianity and Pleasure" (Salisbury: Regina Orthodox Press, 2008) 121-127