The increasingly litigious spirit of a chronically anxious world and a decline in personal responsibility have bequeathed to us a plethora of disclaimers. Caution: this cup of coffee is very hot! Note: the characters in this movie are fictional and in no way represent actual or historical figures. Beware: objects in your rearview mirror are closer than they appear.
If the parable of Lazarus and the rich man has made you anxious, perhaps we should begin with some disclaimers. Note: the characters in this story are fictional and in no way represent actual or historical figures. Warning: this parable contains graphic imagery. Beware: to find the good news in this story, prepare for your life to be turned upside down.
For starters, this parable, like all parables, is fiction, and the characters, other than Abraham, are, too. This parable does not recount a historical example of someone named Lazarus, not to be mistaken for Lazarus of Bethany, the brother of Martha and Mary. And the rich man has no name in Luke’s Gospel, even though history has named him Dives. Nor is this parable intended to be a literal description of the afterlife.
And yet, how tempting it is to look for a model to help us comprehend life after death, perhaps to be assured of our self-righteousness or the deserved condemnation of others. It seems that Lazarus is in heaven with Abraham, and the rich man is in hell. There’s not even the hope of purgatory in this story. The chasm between the rich man and Lazarus is vast, unbridgeable even. Hell is utter torture. And the rich man is deeply alone, fixed in his torment by the eternal flames. He has cooked his own goose, and his justly deserved punishment is everlasting.
But remember our disclaimer: the characters in this story are fictional and in no way represent actual or historical figures. The first thing we should get in our heads is that it’s not certain that Lazarus is in heaven and the rich man in hell. It could be that both are, rather, in the same place, Hades. This is not heaven or hell but a place for souls in the afterlife.
And this brings us to our second disclaimer: this parable contains graphic imagery. Yes, that’s true. And it appears that’s precisely the point of this parable. This parable can’t be reduced to exact parallelism or neat and tidy models. This parable is meant to grasp our imaginations and hearts, because if we’re anything like the rich man and his five brothers, even if in a more moderate way, then we need to awaken from our slumberous complacency.
Which brings us to a third disclaimer: to find the good news in this story, prepare for your life to be turned upside down. This parable will not feed our contented self-righteousness if we are assured of a place in heaven, nor will it exempt us from personal responsibility. This parable’s graphic imagery, which is hard to stomach, is intended to transform hearts of stone into hearts of flesh and to summon compassion.
This story suggests rigid dichotomies, including the unpassable chasm between those who’ve merited the consolation of God’s compassion and those who’ve merited fiery torment. There’s either eternal rejoicing or eternal suffering. But these polarities move us nowhere except to fear. And if our hearts and minds are truly to be changed, we need another motivation. To repent, we must be moved by something other than anxious fear. We must be moved by love. Because this graphic story is contained within the Gospels, our task is to tease out its good news. And this brings us to our final disclaimer: warning, objects in the rearview mirror are closer than they appear. Salvation, is closer than it appears.
But from a literal reading of this story, it appears that salvation is at a distance. If you get it wrong in this life, you’re doomed, eternally in fact. We’re told that the rich man in his torment looks upon Lazarus in the bosom of Abraham from a distance. And Abraham tells him quite clearly that there is a great chasm between him and the rich man that cannot be traversed.
But perhaps we are too focused on looking ahead to gain eternal life when the entrance to eternal life is in our rearview mirror. Behind us in the mirror, if we can shift our eyes from looking only ahead, we see the great oppositions of our own day. Here we see the seemingly uncrossable gulf between rich and poor. We see the vast gap between blue and red. We see the gulf between black and white. We see the glacial crevasse between those with jobs and those who cannot find work. We see the dangerous canyon between those who’ve made up their minds and those whose dignity depends on open-mindedness. We see all manner of chasms that seem to have no bridges across them.
On one side of the chasm are those like the rich man who only see a person as a means to an end, where even in the afterlife, the poor are still servants for the rich. Even beyond the grave, the rich man still expects his privilege to endure. But this parable shatters that illusion with the demand for personal responsibility.
Yes, this story contains graphic imagery, perhaps only suitable for adults. But remember our other disclaimer: the characters in this story are fictional and in no way represent actual or historical figures. The situation portrayed in this story contains truth, but the story itself is not meant to be heard literally. Because when we read this story literally, we become focused only on what lies ahead for our own benefit rather than what lies in our rearview mirror, which just might benefit others. Trying to find a literal model for heaven and hell in this parable will do no more than widen the gap between us and them, rich and poor, the haves and the have-nots, the righteous and the unrighteous. Remember: objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. In this case, salvation and fullness of life are closer than they appear. This is the pearl of good news in this story.
The rich man perceives a chasm between himself and Lazarus precisely because he has lived his entire privileged life structured around the vast chasms of social polarities. He has feasted sumptuously while poor Lazarus lay forlorn, as refuse, by his gate. It’s true for us as well. How easy it is to live inside our gates, whatever and wherever they may be. How easy it is to feast while offering no crumbs to the hungry. How easy it is to imagine that we have a privileged place in heaven while others get their just deserts. Better to look ahead for our own sake than to look behind us for the benefit of others.
But if only the rich man could have known that final disclaimer: salvation and fullness of life are closer than they appear. The rich man is like those among us whose ears are stopped and whose eyes are closed to true salvation waiting just around the corner. The rich man is so busy looking at himself in the mirror or looking ahead for his own benefit, that he misses what’s in the mirror behind him.
Are we like this, too? Do we have trouble seeing that salvation in Jesus is right among us? As we move ahead in our busy lives, Jesus is there at the gate where the homeless sleep and the hungry beg for food. Jesus is there at the gate where migrants are welcomed in and given safe lodging. Jesus is there, holding close to his bosom, those who died alone or who received no comfort in this life. Jesus is there to give names to those like Lazarus whose names have been forgotten on earth. If we allow this parable to coax us into belief rather than scare us into acquiescence, we will find that salvation is indeed much closer than they appear. In life’s mirror, we too often see only ourselves.
But the good news is that unlike that of Lazarus and the rich man, our story is not yet finished. There is still time to look in the rearview mirror, not at ourselves but at the picture of hope behind us. We have our hope in One who came among us to cross the chasms of our world. He came to seek those lying at the gate and to carry them into his bosom. He came to throw feasts for those who could never hope to receive the crumbs from tables of plenty. He came in judgment, for sure, but not to condemn. He came to invite us, with him, to close the chasms among us. He still comes in each and every Mass, to invite us to sit at his table and to feast.
To accept the invitation, we must be willing to look in the rearview mirror and see all those others who have been invited with us but left behind. We must sit at table with Lazarus, the poor, the oppressed, and even the reviled sinners who have repented. We must dine with all those whom we could so easily cast to the other side of a chasm. The question is whether we will accept Jesus’s invitation. And if we stop looking only at ourselves or ahead for our own gain, if we pause to look in the rearview mirror at the vast picture behind us, we will finally see that all along salvation and fullness of life have been far closer than they have appeared.
Sermon by Father Kyle Babin
The Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost
September 25, 2022