And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores,
who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps
that fell from the rich man's table.
Scripture often challenges us to increase our circle of concern, in particular to those close to home, whom we've trained ourselves to ignore. What are the challenges near our own doors that we have simply stepped over so many times that we no longer see them? Maybe in the past they haven't seemed like our problem. Or maybe they have seemed so intractable as to make our efforts insignificant. Maybe their class, ethnicity, or religion made them seem so different as to be difficult to approach. But perhaps, as with the rich man and Lazarus, even our scraps could make a difference. Even had he kept his fancy clothes and fine food he could have gone a long way to alleviating the suffering of another simply by how he managed his waste, the scraps from his table.
The rich man also died and was buried,
and from the netherworld, where he was in torment,
he raised his eyes and saw Abraham far off
and Lazarus at his side.
The netherworld merely unmasked the condition of the rich man's heart, which had heretofore been covered over by the temporary consolations of wealth. He sought his strength in flesh and turned away from the Lord, becoming more and more like a barren bush in the desert. We know that the Lord desired to nourish him as with streams of living water. But he wanted to do so particularly through his relationship with Lazarus. Lazarus represented an opportunity for the heart of the rich man to be resurrected and revitalized, but he closed himself to it. He focused instead on those things over which he had control. But when those things finally failed, he had only himself on which to fall back. And this closedness to God and neighbor was revealed to be hell. But sadly, it seemed too late for him to truly learn anything further at that point. He was fixed in the mold into which he had cast himself by his actions during his life. Even in death he seemed to assume that Lazarus ought to serve him. What job could the poor have besides to make the hell of the rich more tolerable? Or so he seemed to think.
When the poor man died,
he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham.
The poor who hope in the Lord will one day discover that the difficulties of this life are only temporary, more than matched by the eternity of life with God. If the reality of trust in God was in their hearts during their mortal lives it will one day define their existence. It may not now superficially appear that they are connected to streams of life-giving waters. But they are the ones who need not fear, not only the heat of the change of seasons, but even death itself. For their lives will stay evergreen in the presence of God, where distress can no longer touch them (see Wisdom 3:2), bearing forever and ever the fruit of praise. The fact of this great reversal is inevitable. But it is not meant to make us complacent. If we ourselves want to be embraced by God when our own lives are over we ought to align ourselves with his priorities, doing what we can now to make the lives of those in need what he himself will one day make them forever. We are meant to signal our desire for heaven by trying to do our own small part to make the earth a little bit more heaven-like for those whom he has given us to help.
'If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets,
neither will they be persuaded
if someone should rise from the dead.'
If it was possible to be hardhearted during the time of the Old Covenant it is still possible during the time of the New. Jesus did rise from the dead, and made clear that our response to him has eternal consequences. But just as people like the rich ruler were able to ignore the parts of Moses and the prophets that were inconvenient for their lifestyles, so too do we appropriate the parts of the Gospel that affirm us while ignoring those that are more challenging. There is a direct correlation between our willingness to embrace the whole Gospel and our willingness to help those around us. But even if our hearts are rather unresponsive, we ought at least be motivated by the imperfect contrition of self-interest. Are our hearts in a condition that we would want to define our eternal reality? If not, let us turn again to the Lord, more and more, until he truly has all of us.
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