Luke 16:19-31
19 "There was a rich man who
was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. 20
And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, 21 who longed
to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table; even the dogs
would come and lick his sores. 22 The poor man died and was carried away by the
angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. 23 In Hades,
where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with
Lazarus by his side. 24 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.' 25 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. 26 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.' 27 He said, "Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father's
house— 28 for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not
also come into this place of torment.' 29 Abraham replied, "They have
Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.' 30 He said, "No,
father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.'
31 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.' "
Life isn’t fair. If you’re like me,
you’ve probably heard that statement at least a hundred times in your life, and
if you have never heard that statement or if you refuse to believe it is true,
I have some bad news for you: life really isn’t
fair. I’ve come to that conclusion not (only) through my own experiences of
life’s inconsistencies, but through my experiences serving as a pastor. I’ve
witnessed it as I’ve sat with people in their living rooms and heard them speak
of how illness has taken their loved ones too early. I’ve witnessed it as I’ve
listened to the same people pray for a job year after year after year. I’ve
witnessed the reality that life isn’t fair as I’ve walked alongside so many who
have had to deal with each unfair turn in the road of their lives. Yet I think
my most direct experiences of life’s unevenness have come as I’ve walked the
halls of hospitals.
At any point there are numerous
examples of how unfair life can be in the less-than-sterile rooms of a
hospital. Just take a stroll down the maternity wing. There a couple welcomes
their first child into the world. In that room they are surrounded by their
family and friends, all snapping pictures with their phones or cameras. The
room is lined with helium-filled balloons, cellophane-wrapped gift baskets, and
piles of presents in pastel-printed paper from other friends and family. Their
child will be loved; their child will be supported; their child will have
opportunities and advantages for success in its life. Laughter and the sounds
of joy fill that room so much that they spill out in to the hallway…but the
source of that joy doesn’t quite reach the room across the hall.
There, in that room, a young girl
lies in her bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Her newborn baby is down
the hall, in the nursery. Just like the first couple’s child, hers was born
healthy, but there are no family members taking pictures. No friends brought
gifts. Even the child’s father is nowhere to be found. She lies alone with her
thoughts and the knowledge that her child won’t have the love and support of
the child across the hall; her child won’t have the sort of advantages that
come from that sort of support system. The saddest thing though, the thinks to
herself, is that her child had no say in how it came into the world. Her child
had no choice in the matter when it came to the circumstances into which it
would be born. The truth is none of us do. None of us have any say as to what
kind of life we will be born into, and that just isn’t fair.
Life isn’t fair. It isn’t fair
because some of us are born like the rich man, here in Jesus’ story. Some of us
are born into lives of plenty, lives where we can dress in the warm robes or
royalty, lives where the pantry is never bare and there is ample opportunity
for growth and success. If only we were all born that way, then maybe—just
maybe—life would at least seem fair, but life isn’t fair.
It isn’t fair because some of us are born like Lazarus, left to beg at
the gates of those who were born into more fortunate circumstances. It is
Lazarus who truly shows us the imbalance in life’s random blessings. The text
implies that Lazarus was laid at the gate of the rich man’s estate through no
power of his own. Lazarus is not the conjured panhandler of our imaginations
seeking to justify our ignorance. No, he is a disabled human being, perhaps
born with a malformation that has crippled him his entire life. This fictional
poor man of Jesus’ story is not one who rises early in the morning, dresses in
his costume, and sits before the rich man’s gate with cardboard sign and tin
cup; this character Lazarus is one who has been dealt the unfair cards of
biology and chance. He has been dealt an unfair hand, and with it he reminds us
that life isn’t fair.
Just like Jesus’ story before us today, we live in a world where there
are rich men, people like Lazarus, and everyone in between. While we like to
think that we are all products of our own efforts, much about who we are has to
do with things beyond our control, things that—at times—are unfair. However, while life and many of its conditions
are indeed unfair, there is one thing that is always fair, one thing that
levels the playing field for everybody: death.
Death is fair. I’m sorry to tell you that, but it’s true. While we may
all be born into different families and fortunes, death catches us all. Sure, some
will put death off a whole lot longer than others, yet in the end, we will all
die. The odds are just not in our favor! And I know death is fair, because I’ve
seen it. Just as I’ve seen how unfair life is, as a pastor I’ve witnessed the
great leveling that comes with death. I’ve stood in places like this, where
I’ve seen over a hundred people mourn a person lying in an expensive casket,
dressed in fine clothes. Those same people have piled into their nice, shiny
cars to drive in a slow processional to watch as that expensive casket was laid
in a whole in the earth and covered with dirt. I’ve also stood on the cold
concrete of a cemetery pavilion as a less-than-appropriate minister delivered
his rote diatribe on sinners in the flames of hell. Then, after a less than
enthusiastic response, I joined the mourners in a humble parade of cars
swerving across the highway to an unmarked scar in the earth—a pauper’s grave
they call it—where their loved one most likely was put to rest in little more
than crude pine box. Two very different funerals, but each had the same end,
each told the same story. Whether you’re buried with all the pomp and circumstance
of a king, or thrown unceremoniously into hole in the ground, death still has
the same effect: death is fair.
It’s a lesson we also learn from Jesus’ story here, for while the rich
man lived lavishly and Lazarus lied in the gutter, in the end, they both died.
But here’s where the story begins to teach us something more, something deeper.
What happens in this story after the rich man and Lazarus die is something that
was common in many stories in the ancient world[1]: a
rich man recognizes the error of his life, and he requests that someone be sent
back to his loved ones in order to change their ways, hoping, like the ghosts
who visited dear old Mr. Scrooge on Christmas Eve, they would bring such a
shock to those still living that their lives would be forever changed and their
post-death destination forever altered.
That is where Jesus’ story is different. Yes, the rich man in torment
calls out to Abraham asking him to send Lazarus to his five brothers in order
that they may avoid the torment he is experiencing in Hades (which, by the way
is simply the place of the dead and not necessarily meant to directly describe
our image of hell), but Abraham simply replies, “They have Moses and the prophets;
they should listen to them.” They’ve got the Scriptures, and that
should be enough. Abraham simply tells this rich man in Hades that his five
brothers need simply to listen to the words of the Law and the Prophets, and
they will avoid such torment. But such an answer doesn’t sit well with one who
has had things his way his whole life.
The rich man responds to Abraham: “No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to
them from the dead, they will repent.” It’s as if he says to Abraham,
“You don’t get it. I had the Scriptures around me my entire life, on the coffee
table, the dresser, and the bookshelf. I saw it plastered on bumper stickers
and billboards, even heard it on the lips of politicians. They have just as
much exposure to the Scriptures as I did; they need something drastic. They
need a sign, and sending someone to them from the dead should do the trick!”
Can we fault the logic of this rich man? I mean, after all, we live in what
folks call the Bible Belt, and yet all around us people are obviously out of
touch with the Scriptures. Even those who go around quoting passages from the
Bible often do so in such a dangerous and irresponsible way that many are
completely turned off not only by what they hear but from whom they hear it! I
can’t tell you how many times I’d much rather be able to conjure up some
miraculous sign and say “ta-da!” rather than delve into the deep mysteries of
Christ in the Scriptures so that others may believe. It would be so much easier
if we could just perform some sign that witnessed to the reality of the God we
serve in Christ. In the end, however, we must hear those words from Abraham to
the rich man: "If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will
they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.” In the end, it
is Scripture that will ultimately change the fate of those who wait for death’s
leveling.
Now, I don’t doubt that in Luke’s account of Jesus telling this story
that there is a strong undercurrent of allusion pulling us towards Christ’s
resurrection, but the truth of this story is still found in Abraham’s response
to the rich man. You see, Jesus said himself that he came not to abolish the
Law and the Prophets but to fulfill them. His presence, his actions, his death,
and his resurrection did not render the words of those ancient Scriptures
useless. Rather, Jesus’ life and teachings fulfilled those words, gave them the
full power of their meaning.
So, as we hear these words from
Scripture, what are they saying to us? What is Jesus’ story here really about?
In the story, if Abraham’s response to the rich man is what we are left with,
then how should we hear it?
Let’s think about it this way: what if the rich man got what he wanted
and Abraham had indeed sent Lazarus to his brothers? What exactly would Lazarus
have said? I think it would’ve gone something like this: “You sinners! You who
live in such spoiled wealth! Repent! For your brother who has died lived the
same life as you and is now suffering in the tormenting flames of hell! Repent,
therefore, and you may avoid his eternal fate!” Now, many of you would likely
“Amen!” such a sermon, but think about it from the perspective of Jesus’ actual
story. Abraham tells the rich man that his brothers should simply listen to
Moses and the Prophets. But here’s the rub: Moses and the Prophets (along with
the gospels and the epistles of our New Testament) speak less of avoiding
eternal torment and a great deal more about loving our neighbors, caring for
the poor, the orphan, and the widow. The Bible is filled with passages about
helping our needy neighbor and serving each other. In fact, the Scriptures talk
a whole lot more about how we make life fair, than they ever do about where we
wind up on the other side of death. In other words, if you go to the Bible
hoping to find the magic words to say to keep you out of hell, you will surely
come away disappointed, for Scripture and the God of whom it testifies calls us
to changed lives, not simply a change in our eternal resting place.
So what does that mean for us? It means that our eternal destination is
not simply determined by our personal desire to just stay out of hell, to avoid
the frightening images of flaming torment. It means our faith ought to be
grounded in the teachings of Scripture as they guide us to make this life fair
by loving each other and all of those in this world who may have been dealt an
unfair hand. It means that life on this side of eternity is just as important
as life on the other side. Jesus’ story about the rich man and Lazarus teaches
us that the words of Scripture act to shape us more and more like Christ, who
is the living Word of God, the fulfillment of the written word of God.
So may we hear the lesson of the rich man and Lazarus. May we seek to
overcome this life’s imbalances as we share not only our lives with each other,
but also the Good News of God’s salvation. Let us turn to the pages of
Scripture as they guide us in our journey towards being more and more like the
Christ who calls us into eternal fellowship. Today, may we hear this story from
the word of God and may the Word himself continue to shape us into his
likeness. Amen.
[1]
Hull, William E., The Broadman Bible
Commentary, Vol. 9: Luke-John. Broadman Press: Nashville. p. 132.
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