The story of the rich man and Lazarus presents us with two lives lived in stark contrast—one in luxury, the other in misery—and the eternal consequences that follow.
We hear of a rich man who "dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day." Purple cloth was extraordinarily expensive in Jesus' time, a symbol of extreme wealth and status. At his gate lay Lazarus, covered with sores, longing to eat the scraps from the rich man's table. Even the dogs came to lick his sores—a detail that emphasizes his utter destitution and suffering.
What is striking about this parable is not merely the contrast between wealth and poverty during their earthly lives, but what happens after death. Lazarus is carried by angels to the "bosom of Abraham"—a Jewish expression for paradise—while the rich man finds himself in the netherworld, in torment. Now the tables have turned completely. The rich man, who once feasted, now thirsts desperately for even a drop of water. Lazarus, who once longed for scraps, now rests in comfort.
But notice something important: the rich man is not condemned simply because he was wealthy. The Gospel does not condemn possessions themselves. Rather, his sin was indifference—a complete blindness to the suffering at his very doorstep. It is not wealth itself that is evil, but rather the indifference that wealth can generate in us toward the needs of others.
The rich man knew Lazarus by name—we see this when he calls out to Abraham about him—yet he did nothing to relieve Lazarus's suffering. Day after day, he stepped over or around this suffering man to enter his home. He had countless opportunities to show mercy, yet he remained blind to Lazarus's humanity.
In death, a great chasm separates them, which Abraham says cannot be crossed. This chasm, however, did not suddenly appear after death. It existed during their lifetimes—a chasm of indifference that the rich man himself created and maintained. In eternity, this self-made chasm simply becomes permanent.
The rich man was not punished because he was rich, but because he was unmerciful. His wealth was not his condemnation, but rather his failure to use that wealth in service of love and mercy.
This parable challenges us to examine our own lives. Who are the Lazaruses at our gates today? They may be the homeless person we pass on the street, the elderly neighbor living in isolation, the immigrant family struggling to make ends meet, the colleague battling depression behind a brave face, or the abandoned orphan kitty we find in our backyard
The "gate" in the parable represents the boundaries we create between ourselves and others. Our gates might be our busy schedules, our comfortable routines, our social circles, or simply our self-absorption. These gates can blind us to the suffering around us.
What is one concrete step you can take this week to bridge the chasms in your own life? This Saturday, I am hosting a thank you picnic for 80 foster moms who take stray kittens into their homes and provide shelter, love and meds to raise these furry companions until they are ready to be spayed or neutered and adopted into caring homes.
Perhaps you are making time to visit someone who is lonely, contributing to organizations that serves the vulnerable, advocating for just policies that protects human dignity, or simply being more attentive to the needs of those you encounter daily.
Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends for the grace to see as God sees—to recognize Christ himself in the face of every Lazarus or furry friend at our gate. May we use the gifts God has entrusted to us not to widen chasms of indifference, but to build bridges of compassion and love.
Enjoy images of Animal Shelter Appreciation Picnic