“Lazarus & the Rich Man” Colchester Federated Church, September 28, 2025, Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Luke 16:19-31)

Last Sunday we heard the perplexing parable of the dishonest manager in the Gospel according to Luke.  The manager mismanaged his wealthy boss’s estate and was fired.  In order to salvage his reputation, the manager came up with a scheme to reduce the debts owed to his former boss.  (To ensure those indebted to him also became indebted to the manager).  The wealthy man ended up commending the dishonest manager for his cleverness despite the dishonesty. 

In Luke’s Gospel, we have the parable of the rich fool, the parable of the dishonest manager, and now the parable of the rich man and Lazarus.  We have been contemplating some of these stories for weeks.  And today Jesus tells another parable about a wealthy man. 

Before we get into the specifics, we can remember that one of the characteristics of Luke’s Gospel is Jesus’ ministry to those who were oppressed, excluded, or somehow at a disadvantage in society.  Jesus quoted the prophet Isaiah early in his ministry, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.”[1]  New Testament scholar Mark Allan Powell relates, “Concern for the poor is demonstrated in many verses as well, often in ways that imply a corresponding hostility toward the rich . . . Jesus illustrated this graphically in parables where the rich are depicted as fools (12:16-21), or, worse, as persons destined to suffer eternal agony while the poor receive their comfort (16:19-31).”[2] 

Lazarus and the rich man is the parable that depicts the rich man suffering eternal agony.  Again, this is not an easy parable.  While arguing with the Pharisees about wealth, status, influence, and power, Jesus tells this story about a rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen.  The rich man enjoyed luxurious feasts every day at his home.  We can imagine that this rich man lived in a luxurious home in part because there is a gate that was intended to keep those “have nots” of society at a distance.  This was a two-tier society of the “haves” and the “have nots.” 

Meanwhile at the gate, there was a poor man named Lazarus.  Lazarus was covered in sores and longed to eat even the crumbs that fell from the rich man’s table.  Jesus shares that Lazarus was too weak and too sick to even fight off the dogs who are finding their meals in the garbage discarded in the streets outside the rich man’s home.  In fact, New Testament scholar Arland Hultgren relates that the verb used here to describe Lazarus laying at the gate points to his helplessness.  Because Lazarus “has to be placed at the gate every day by friends.”[3]  This is a desperate situation. 

In a reversal of roles, Lazarus (the poor man) is named and the rich man is the unnamed figure.  This is the only parable that Jesus tells in the Gospels where a character in a parable is named at all.  And it’s Lazarus—the poor man placed outside at the gate who is named.  In Hebrew Lazarus means “God has helped.”[4]  The gate and the wall and the rich man are keeping this poor man named Lazarus at a distance.  The rich man does not want to see the situation, let alone do anything to alleviate the situation right outside his mansion.

Jesus tells us that Lazarus dies and is carried by angels to be with Abraham.  The rich man also dies and is depicted as being tormented in the place of the dead.  The rich man looks up to see Abraham in the distance with Lazarus at his side.  It seems that somehow these two men can see each other in the afterlife—one is in bliss and the other is in torment with a chasm between them.  The rich man still tries to be in charge as he says, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me.  Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I’m suffering in this flame.”[5]  The rich man wants Lazarus to do him a favor in the afterlife.  The same person who ignored Lazarus sick and starving and suffering at his gate is now commanding Lazarus to come help him because he’s thirsty. 

Abraham explains to the rich man that this is not possible with, “Child, remember that during your lifetime you received good things, whereas Lazarus received terrible things.  Now Lazarus is being comforted and you are in great pain.”[6]  The rich man pivots and asks that Lazarus be sent to his father’s house to warn his five brothers about what happened to him.  Abraham denies this request too because if the brothers will not listen to Moses or the Prophets, why would they be persuaded by someone who has risen from the dead?  As Professor Hultgren explains, “God’s will is not difficult to figure out.  One is supposed to help the poor and miserable that are nearby.  The brothers are without excuse.”[7]

This story made me think of Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol (yes in September!).  Here’s the thing (and no offense to Abraham), but had Lazarus gone to see the rich man’s brothers to warn them about their actions having consequences maybe it could have resulted in changed hearts.  Many of us know the story of Ebenezer Scrooge being a mean and selfish and rich old man who undergoes a change of heart better than this parable.  That story opens with his clerk Bob Cratchit shivering at his desk because Scrooge refuses to spend money on coals for the fire, and on Christmas Eve no less!  People stop by the counting-house and ask for Scrooge to make a contribution to their charity and he responds with bitterness.  Poor people deserve their fate in Scrooge’s worldview. 

Later that night, Scrooge is present at his cold, dark house and receives a visitation from the ghost of Jacob Marley, who had been his business partner.  Marley looks haggard and frightening.  There is punishment he now must endure for his selfish life, as his spirit just wanders the earth weighed down with heavy chains.  Marley desires to save Scrooge from sharing the same fate and ends up telling him that he will be visited by three spirits who will show him what he needs to see.  There’s a poignant moment between the ghost of Jacob Marley and Scrooge (slightly adapted):

“Oh! captive, bound, and double-ironed,” cried the phantom, “not to know, that ages of incessant labour by immortal creatures, for this earth must pass into eternity before the good of which it is susceptible is all developed. Not to know that any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life’s opportunity misused! Yet such was I! Oh! such was I!”

“But you were always a good man of business, Jacob,” faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to himself.

“Business!” cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. “[Humanity] was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!”[8]

Okay, so did Charles Dickens read the parable of the rich man and Lazarus before he wrote A Christmas Carol?  Based on no evidence whatsoever, I feel like he could have.  Because Dickens presents a redemption story in a way that the rich man is not redeemed in Jesus’ parable. 

Jesus intentionally left the parable of Lazarus and the rich man stark and uncomfortable.  Because then we are implored to overcome indifference to the needs of the poor.  We are challenged to understand that there are still “haves” and “have nots.”  We are called to see the conditions of those who suffer and not hide behind our gates.  To remember that as Christians, humanity is our business.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

[1] Luke 4:18, NRSVUE.
[2] Mark Allan Powell, Fortress Introduction to The Gospels, pg. 93.
[3] Arland J. Hultgren, The Parables of Jesus: A Commentary, pg. 112.
[4] Hultgren, The Parables of Jesus: A Commentary, pg. 111.
[5] Luke 16:24, CEB.
[6] Luke 16:25, CEB.
[7] Hultgren, The Parables of Jesus: A Commentary, pg. 114.
[8] Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, Amazon Classics Kindle Edition, pg. 21.

Photo by Ágatha Depiné on Unsplash