We are all about family. The truth is, the problem is, we are all about OTHER people’s families.

The most popular show on television today? “Duck Dynasty.” After that there are the programs about “The Kardashians,” “Housewives,” of various zip codes, and “Hoarders.” We like to spy-glass at the inner-workings of family relationships that we can keep at arm’s length — or TIVO for a later, more convenient time.

Our own family relationships cannot be put on hold. Whether it is a teething infant, a tantrum-tossing toddler, a hormone-hosed teenager, a suffering spouse, or an aging parent — we have to deal with our family in “real time” not unreal reality tv time. Those with whom we have a true connection don’t just get our attention when it is convenient. That is what makes us a “family.”

Jesus’ parable in this week’s gospel text is almost too familiar for our ears to hear the real challenge that it offers. It is easy to read about a rich, self-absorbed, politically important man who is so involved in his own life, so busy orchestrating his own pleasures and perks, that he completely ignores the plight of Lazarus, a man who falls inside his gate, but far outside his pay-grade.

But that is not the shock-treatment that Jesus’ parable is administering. The Pharisees to whom Jesus was speaking would not be surprised that a wealthy man who totally rejected laws of alms-giving and care for the poor ended up in the hot-house of Hades. The righteous minded, Torah toeing, jot-and-tittle crossing Pharisees would have seen that as completely acceptable. So Jesus does NOT portray some ultimate “bad guy” tossing poor Lazarus to the curb. Instead Jesus offered a picture of first-century, socially acceptable compassion, extended by this incredibly wealthy man, to an incredibly unacceptable person.

“Dives,” the “rich man” Jesus describes in this parable, is VERY rich. The purple, the linen, the daily feasts, the exclusive gate — all these elements sketch-out an extremely wealthy individual. This “Dives” was Bill Gates rich. He was Donald Trump rich. He was a Prince of Dubai rich. This “Dives” didn’t just have big money — he had HUGE money.

How many indigents, drug addicts, pan-handlers, mentally disturbed people, do you think are allowed to take up “residence” at the entrance ways to the private homes of Bill Gates, Donald Trump, the Prince of Dubai? Right. Zero. One call to security would do it. Any “suspicious” characters would immediately be booted as fast and as far as possible. It was the same in the first century. But not for “Dives.”

How about those who of us who aren’t rich and famous? How many of us would let a homeless person, ill and dirty, sleep in our garage night after night? Or more accurately, take up residence on our front porch?

Yet, that is what “Dives” did. His high-class guests, coming through his gate to attend his daily banquets, had to ride or walk past the puss-oozing Lazarus. Instead of rose blossoms and swans, as they entered into his private estate, Dives’ guests got the presence of a crippled beggar with putrid, oozing sores. That was not nothing. That was a gift. That was an act of charity and compassion.

But that — Jesus insisted — was still not enough. The problem was, “Dives” actions did not involve any kind of relationship.

For the Pharisees who were listening to and then publically ridiculing Jesus’ teaching, this was an unexpected assault upon their Torah-minded righteousness. “Dives,” this “rich man,” was not behaving badly. He was doing “good,” according to the letter of the Law. And accordingly to the divine bookkeeping that these critics of Jesus kept, the very fact that the rich man was blessed with wealth and with social acceptance, and with comfort and power, were all tangible signs of God’s approval and acceptance, both of his life and life-style.  The fact that Lazarus was poor was not a judgment. But his physical disabilities were calculated as an indictment. Illness and infirmity were read as signs of God’s judgment.

In the first century any type of skin disease was grouped into the general category of “leprosy” — and as a “leper,” anyone suffering from a skin ailment was deemed ritually, socially, and personally “unclean.” Yet “Dives” let Lazarus reside at the gateway to his home. At that location Lazarus not only was an unpleasant “first impression.” He was also a potential source of serious ritual pollution for any of the rich man’s daily guests.

How many of your friends would come to see you if you lived on Three Mile Island, or Chernobyl, or at the Hanford Nuclear site? Those are today’s “unclean” places. And yet that is what Jesus’ “rich man” did by accommodating Lazarus at his “gate.” The Pharisees listening to Jesus’ parable would have been impressed and even a little upset with the over-the-top charity this rich man offered. Yet Jesus’ parable put that same rich man in hell.

Surprise! What went wrong? Why did Dives end up in Hades?

The “rich man” in Jesus’ parable did not end up outside of heaven because of disrespect, but because of neglect. The “rich man” provided charity — a safe place to be, some protection, some food. But the rich man did not offer any of himself to Lazarus. There was no human connection between Lazarus and “Dives.” There was no real reaching out. There was no real relationship.

It is easy to write a check. It is hard to check up on people you do not really know. Jesus’ parable condemns “Dives” — the archetypical “rich man” not for the sin of greed but for the sin of not giving any part of himself. Remember what torments the rich man when in Hades? He is tormented by the pending fate of his five brothers.  

That’s why Dives is in hell. He doesn’t have five brothers. He really has six brothers and doesn’t know it. For Jesus It is not enough for the rich to “visit” the poor and ladle out charity. Jesus wants us to be in a relationship with the poor, to make a Lazarus our brother. Jesus wants Dives to be in a loving, compassionate relationship with Lazarus, just as he had with his own blood siblings.

Lazarus should not have been some “charity” project. Lazarus should have been “Dives” sixth brother, even, as his name implies, his best friend. Lazarus should be been seated at the table, not fed at the gate.

Jesus’ parable is far more challenging and surprising than the story of a rich man who shirks his duty to give alms. Jesus’ parable is an arrow to the heart of all of us who would prefer to offer a handful of change or a convenient check, instead of inviting those who are “unclean,” uncared for, unclaimed, unwanted, under-used — to truly join us at our table, as members of our own family.

One more thing. We should not expect any special message or messenger to come down and point out to us when we should offer a saving hand. “Dives” fives brothers didn’t get that. No one else does either. But we have something better. We have the truth of the Scriptures, the Story-made-flesh. Or in the words of Helmut Thielicke:

We have only the Word, the Word made flesh and crucified, that namelessly quiet Word which came to use in one who was poor and despised as his brother Lazarus. For he really wanted to be his brother.” “The Waiting Father,” Sermons on the Parables of Jesus {New York: Harper & Brothers, 1959), 50.

Who’s your Lazarus? Who’s wanting to be your brother?

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COMMENTARY

As always, there are two types of people in the world. There are those who like surprises, and there are those who hate surprises.

Those who don’t like surprises believe they have their lives all figured out and under their control. They are confident in what they expect, and where they are going. Those who love surprises look at life differently. They expect the unexpected. They live with purpose, but not necessarily with a plan.

Jesus loves surprises. The parables Jesus tells, especially in Luke’s gospel, time and again, offer BIG surprises.

First, the party-boy “prodigal son” is welcomed back by his father with open arms. Then, a cheating, scoundrel of a servant is praised by his employer for his cleverness. In this week’s gospel text, the final fates of a rich man and a poor beggar are revealed to be exactly the opposite of what Jesus’ audience would expect.

Ostensibly Jesus has been speaking to his disciples throughout this section of Luke. But he has also been addressing a secondary audience, a gathering of Pharisees who were listening in on his lessons, grumbling among themselves about his teachings (15:2), and finally flat-out “ridiculing” him (16:14). Convinced of their own firm footing on the path to righteousness, these Pharisees had no doubt that they were among God’s favored ones. Jesus’ parable of the “rich man and Lazarus” reveals a huge sinkhole in that pathway of righteousness these Pharisees were traveling — a sinkhole that would forever separate them from a home in God’s kingdom.

Jesus begins by describing the life and conditions of an arrestingly “rich man” (“plousios”). In church tradition the Latin translation of “plousios,” that is “dives,” has become the “name” of this exceedingly wealthy man (Dives). But Jesus himself does not provide this man with a name. Jesus does provide plenty of other details about this individual, however, details that reveal just how highly privileged a life he lived.

For example, Dives wears “purple and fine linens,” the most expensive clothing possible. Purple dye was not only excessively expensive to wear; it was restricted in its use to those who were either royalty or for those who had met with approval of the Roman government. Purple, then, was a sign of uber-wealth and super-power among the chosen elite. At this point in Jesus’ story, a first-century hearer would have thought of the wealthiest person they could think of. A 21st century hearer of Jesus’ story thinks immediately of Bill Gates.

This rich man also feasted “every day,” which suggests that he hosted formal banquets, a “feast,” on a daily basis. This was a truly outrageous extravagance, even among the “lifestyles of the rich and famous.”

Jesus also notes that this rich man had his own “gate.” As with the wealthy today, this man lived inside the security and safety of a gated compound. His living space was out-of-sight and off-limits to any but those he expressly admitted. For one as wealthy as this purple-robed gourmand, the “gate” that served as the entrance to his private world would certainly have been appropriately grand and opulent. While we have no way of knowing how large or deep this gateway might have been, it was certainly more than a mere hole-in-the-wall. It would be expected that there would have been a sentry’s room, also perhaps stables for visitor’s steeds and chariots. Apparently there were dogs, perhaps guard dogs who served as guardians of that gateway.

Now Jesus reveals that also within this gate there was a poor (“ptochos”) man. The plight of this poor man is outlined in detail. He is described as laying down within this gate, which suggests he may have been crippled in some way and so unable to sit up or stand. His condition apparently makes it impossible for him to work or even actively beg, so he is hungry. His body is covered with sores, open, oozing wounds that invited the resident dogs to lick at them. What a gross sight this must have been for all the “movers and shakers” who daily passed through the gate.

Yet this obviously indigent outcast, an individual who would have been declared “unclean” and so ostracized from any social contacts, is given a name by Jesus — Lazarus. He is the only individual in all of Jesus’ parables who is identified by a name. It is a name that means not only “God helps,” but is the name that is shared with a man who was Jesus’ best friend, Lazarus, the brother of Martha and Mary.

The first century Pharisees hearing this parable would have been shocked by how the fates of these two individuals eventually ended up. But there is also a “surprise” for twenty-first century readers who think they know this story. For us it is hard not to hear centuries of commentary “experts” condemn the bad old rich “Dives” for his mistreatment of poor Lazarus. But actually this is a misreading of the parable’s portrayal of the rich man.

Despite his obvious wealth and status, when he has an unclean, crippled, indigent man dumped at his gate he does not kick him to the curb. Instead the rich man allows this destitute, visually repulsive outcast to reside in the gateway to his elegant estate. Dives provided the equivalence of a “homeless shelter” for Lazarus at the very entrance to his own home. Those who heard Jesus tell this story no doubt at this point said to themselves:  “I don’t have a homeless person living at my door, much less my gate.”

Lazarus understandably “longed to dine on the sumptuous food served up at the rich man’s tables.” Who doesn’t love leftovers? Who wouldn’t love the leftovers from Bill Gates’ table?

Most commentators argue that Dives let Lazarus starve. But that’s not what the text says. The text does not say he starved to death. The gateway where Lazarus resided was the place of comings-and-gongs. It had people in and out all day and night. It had dogs that felt cared for enough to stick around — all conditions that suggest the presence of food that would have been available to Lazarus. By first century standards, the rich man was doing more for Lazarus than any of the hearers of the story would have done.

Yet despite all that the rich man did for Lazarus, the end result remains the same. He’s in hell. Both men die and their fates demonstrate the great reversal of expectations and values that Jesus had been teaching. Lazarus dies and is transported by angelic beings to the “bosom of Abraham” — that is, to a position of heavenly security, nurture, and love. The rich man dies and is “buried” (he obviously had the funds for a great funeral), but he finds himself in Hades. Flame-broiled and thirsty, the rich man still doesn’t “get it.” He calls upon Abraham to “send Lazarus” to serve him, to bring him water, as though his elevated status in this world still brought him some privileges in his new fiery residence.

Abraham gives the rich man a harsh reality check. The wealth and status he enjoyed in this world is gone. There is no back-and-forth access between the fires of Hades and the comforts of heaven. The earthly roles of the rich man and Lazarus have been totally reversed. As this realization sinks in the rich man makes one more request — again still thinking his opinion holds some power and still thinking that Lazarus is some low-level lackey who can be ordered about. Although his request concerns the welfare of others, his five brothers, his plea for a special heavenly messenger is rejected.

Abraham refuses to put the siblings of the rich man into any special category. Like all of Israel, they have “Moses and the prophets” to show them what they should do and how they should relate to the world. In words that foreshadow his own resurrection, Jesus’ parable ends with the assertion that “even if someone rises from the dead” those who do not hear and obey God’s word, will not be convinced to change their ways.