The rich man is, well, rich. He’s pretty
one-dimensional, and he does what we imagine rich men do: he dresses in the
finest fabrics (linen) in a color that denotes his rank (royal purple) and “feasts
sumptuously” every day. His is an empty, superficial and self-obsessed life.
It is monotonous in its abundance. Then one small thing changes; it is, in itself, an opportunity. But does he even notice the man who is now living (just barely) at his gate?
The man at the gate is Lazarus. “Covered with sores,” he has possibly been abandoned by his family, left at the one place where he has the best chance of being fed and cared for: at the rich man’s gate – the place of opportunity. Someone has noticed that food is being tossed out here. If he can deal with the dogs, he stands a chance of eating well. The dogs, for their part, take Lazarus’ presence in stride. However, they do tend to make a habit of licking the sores that cover his body.
We shudder at this because we’re supposed to – it is intended to show us that a great chasm has been fixed between the two men. Jewish purity laws and social norms preclude the two from having any real interaction, and any assistance that Lazarus might possibly receive from the rich man will be administered through his servants. This artificial chasm can be bridged – Lazarus could be restored to a normal life – but it will require some personal sacrifice from the rich man, whether of time, money or social status.
Both men die. Death, the great equalizer, comes for the rich man (who is buried) and Lazarus (who is carried by angels to Abraham’s side). The instant of death, however, is the only moment where the two are equal. Their roles are now reversed. Lazarus now “has his good things” while the rich man now “lives” in torment.
“Holy moly it’s hot,” says the rich man as he tries to find a comfortable spot on the naked steel hood of a 1976 Trans Am in a Death Valley high noon sun. “Oi! Abba Abe! Cut me some slack and send Lazarus down here to slip me a little water. I’m dyin’ all over again here.”
It turns out that the rich man did notice Lazarus at his gate – he knows his name. However, his attitude towards Lazarus is suspect. He clearly sees Lazarus as someone who exists to support and serve him – to further his comfort. His request for token assistance (it will do nothing to alter the rich man’s true state) may be his way of asking for Lazarus to remember the table scraps the rich man let fall his way once.
“Sorry Bernie,” says Abraham (though we don’t really know the man’s name, it’s just funny), “but this is the way things are now. You had your good things while alive. In the same manner, Lazarus received bad things. Now Lazarus is comforted here, and you are in anguish. Besides, a great chasm has been fixed between us and you to prevent any commerce between us.”
Stymied by the lack of opportunity here in the afterlife to bridge the chasm, the rich man makes a seemingly noble request, “Then send him to my father’s house to warn my family lest they come here also.”
Abraham returns the volley, “Let them hear Moses and the prophets.”
“No, abba Abe, but if someone were to rise from the dead, they will repent.”
Jesus, in a moment of double prescience, tells the Pharisees and crowd that Abraham (their father) said, “No, if they don’t hear what Moses and the prophets have to say, they will not be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.”
In his book “Luke: The Gospel of Amazement,” Michael Card points out the raw power of this statement. There are two people who will soon famously rise from the dead and, curiously, one of them is named Lazarus.
Throughout the story, Jesus is nipping at the heels of our expectations and our perceptions. Does the rich man do anything for Lazarus? He might. It’s said that Lazarus is simply hoping to be fed with what falls from the rich man’s table, and he may very well have been. But, it did nothing to change his true state. Lazarus died among the dogs at the gate where the rich man’s brothers walked past him at least once (how else would they have recognized a risen Lazarus?). How much benefit then did the rich man’s charity (if any) provide? None. The rich man did not go far enough.
The rich man clearly has not made enough effort to make a difference in the lives of the people around him – including Lazarus, his father and his five brothers. Why, for example, is the rich man not caring for his father? Or his brothers? Why does he live alone in luxury? His singular life is held up by our society as an admirable goal on the one hand and made suspect and tawdry in the other.
Jesus also gives a subtle dig at the Pharisees by flaunting a little Greek culture in their faces. Instead of Gehenna or Sheol, he uses the Greek word “Hades” to describe the rich man’s eternal destination. It’s almost as if Jesus is saying, “The Gentiles are convinced there’s an afterlife, why aren’t you?”
Perhaps it would be better to state that Jesus is telling the Pharisees and the crowd that Hell is something that ought to be completely foreign to them. After all, these are not literal descriptions of the next life. He is simply playing with our expectations, myths and beliefs. But not for long. He will stop playing and completely destroy them when He rises – three days after He is murdered.
