September 28, 2025
"There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores.
The
poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich
man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he lifted
up his eyes and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out,
'Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his
finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in agony in these flames.'
But
Abraham said, 'Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good
things and Lazarus in like manner evil things, but now he is comforted here,
and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has
been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so,
and no one can cross from there to us.'
He
said, 'Then I beg you, father, to send him to my father's house -- for I have
five brothers--that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this
place of torment.' Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets; they
should listen to them.'
He said, 'No, Father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.' He said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.'"
It is a safe bet that we have heard this story before. Maybe you read it in the Bible. Maybe you heard it from me. Every time this text shows up in the schedule, I have a hard time passing it by. It’s vivid and poignant. The story has a bite.
There’s a preacher I know who was stunned to discover it is a recurring story. In a Bible class, he learned that many diverse cultures tell a story like this one. “There were a rich man and a poor man.” There’s always a rich man, always a poor man. It does not depend on where the story is told. In every place on earth, we have affluence and poverty. In every one of those situations, there is a great gulf between them. This story is not restricted to the Bible.
Yet it belongs here, too, for it is a Bible story. Specifically, and uniquely, it belongs in the Gospel of Luke. As we have heard since the summer, Luke tells us how Jesus warned about the trappings and temptations of having a lot of money. He has also kept our eyes upon the poor and called us to compassion.
What’s more, since page one of his book, Luke tells us that God will reverse fortunes. What did mother Mary say before her baby Jesus was born? “God has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.”[1] What did the grownup Jesus announce to his followers? “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God… Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.”[2] That’s either good news or bad news, depending on whether you feast sumptuously or wait for the crumbs to fall from the table.
As Jesus tells the story today, his characters enflesh those teachings. There’s the anonymous rich man. It could be any of us. The poor man is named. He is Lazarus, named after a friend whom Jesus loved. Their situations have been reversed. In the life to come, Lazarus leans on Father Abraham, now comforted and consoled. And where is the rich man? You might say he’s cooking in the basement.
What’s remarkable is how Jesus takes this well-known story and expands upon it. First, the two are eternally separated. There is a great gulf between them. It cannot be passed. The decision is final. One is up; one is down. There is no middle ground – except for the ground that you and I currently inhabit. So, he’s trying to teach his disciples in every time and place: give freely of yourself, share what you have, do not separate yourself from those in need. There may still be time, Ebenezer Scrooge, so wake up from that bad dream and show some compassion.
There’s a second way Jesus expands on the story. He says everything we need to know was written down in the Bible. There’s nothing new about feeding one another. It’s in “Moses,” that is, the wisdom of the Jewish Torah. And it’s in “the Prophets” – that’s the section that a lot of people don’t read. Not just because it’s poetry, and poetry can be difficult, but because the prophets of Israel regularly punctured the illusions of those who ignored their neighbors.
We could look at this in chapter and verse, but we would be here most of the day. And today is the day to get out into the neighborhood. The point is, everything is in the Book, the Good Book. Read the Book. Live the Book.
What captures my attention this time through the story is something the rich man says while the flames are burning him up. Did you hear what he said? “Send Lazarus to cool me off!” Isn’t that something? He’s burning up in hell and he still thinks he is in charge.
In fact, he tries to pull those eternal strings three times. “Send Lazarus to douse me in water.” “Send him to my five brothers to warn them not to end up like me.” That is, neglecting neighbors is a family habit; at least he cares enough about his brothers to warn them. And then he says, “Send Lazarus back from the dead. That will wake them up.” Then Jesus says, with a pre-Easter wink, “If they won’t listen to Moses and the Prophets, a resurrection will not wake them up.”
Like I said, three times the rich man thinks he’s in charge. He had his “good things” during his lifetime. That seems to have shaped his thinking. He believes he is superior. He thinks he can still order people around. He’s fond of telling Abraham, or God, or Jesus what he wants them to do. And this is the Grand Distortion. It is the presumption of some to think they are better than others. “Send Lazarus to cool me off…” Ouch!
It’s this presumption - that I am better than you - that seems to be the root of it all.
Now, it must be said that the present world is full of inequities. People get paid different amounts, sometimes when they do the same work. Some folks pay others to do what they don’t want to do. Or pay them for what they are not able to do. Some are born into abundance, while for others, all the “good things” are withheld. Is it fair? Of course it isn’t fair. Neither is it fair that some “game the system” to their advantage, while others languish in their poverty. Life as we know it is not smoothed out and the same for everybody.
And yet the root of a lot of evil is in that assumption – that presumption – that some of us are better than others. Ask the historian Heather Cox Richardson at Boston College. She concludes this was the original basis for enslaving African people. Hundreds of years later, it continues when the voter rolls of their descendants are purged with absolutely no evidence of fraud. Some want to move ahead by keeping others behind.
So, this is a good story to keep in mind when we do a lot of good things today for the neighborhood. Do we serve others because we are better than them? Or is it because we are participating in a common humanity? Do we lean down or step over? Or do we stand beside?
I think of that poor rich man in Jesus’ story. He had an impoverished heart which led to an impoverished imagination. All he had to do was look out the window, see Lazarus (who he knew by name), and say, “Lazarus, let’s eat together at our table.” But he couldn’t do it. Or wouldn’t do it. And that sad little soul has given clues as to why. He thought he was superior.
In the mission literature, there is the phrase “toxic charity.” That’s the kind of charity you do that makes things worse. Like that church group we saw in the Port-au-Prince airport years ago. On their way home, singing Jesus songs, and saying, “Isn’t it too bad how these people live?” In a moment, they negated everything they thought they were doing. I wonder if any of those kids in matching t-shirts had their hearts cracked open wide enough to see they lived on the same planet as everybody else.
It’s one thing to do good deeds for others. It’s another to do good deeds with others. That’s the genius of a model like Habitat for Humanity. You don’t merely build a house for the needy. You build a house with them, as partners, standing on the same level ground. And whatever pre-existing inequities melt away when you serve side by side.
That’s one of the subtle but significant changes that I’ve seen in our congregation. Thirty-five years ago, First Presbyterian Church wrote checks to those in need. Now, we write checks - and we show up, too. We come alongside. We learn names. We listen to the stories. We bridge the gaps. We build relationships. We discover once again that we are in this life together.
The simple fact is this: none of us
are any better than anybody else. None of us. Well, OK. Jesus is better than
us. But give him a good look. He’s down on his knees, washing our feet.
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