Before we say anything else, we should make clear that this parable is not a literal description of the geography of the afterlife, as if there were a fiery hell within sight of the restful “bosom of Abraham.”
And neither is this story a wistful fable about how fortunes will be reversed in the life to come. Rather, our focus should be on the rich man’s brothers—and the rest of us who still live in this world with our resources, challenges, and opportunities. What can we do to bring about God’s kingdom, feeding those who hunger, and honoring those whom the world ignores?
Despite his status and comfort, the rich man in this parable remains anonymous—“Dives” is simply the Latin word for “rich”—while we are told the beggar’s name: Lazarus. It’s highly unlikely, in fact, that the rich man ever bothered to find out Lazarus’ name or his story.
Even in the netherworld, he continues to treat Lazarus as his inferior, expecting him to render personal service.
We can all identify in some way with the rich man, blessed beyond our deserving and insulated from the needs of others.
Who are the beggars at our gate, and how can we set a place for them at our tables?
If we look beyond the things they lack, such as money, health, or cultured manners, what could they teach us about what is important in the eyes of God? Perhaps their straightforward humility enables them to draw very near to the One who had “nowhere to rest his head” (Luke 9:58), while we are too busy fussing about our own accommodations. We have all seen homeless people looking for a handout, and most of us have walked right by them. But Lazarus takes other forms as well.
- Who in our family is hungry for attention?
- What coworker’s good ideas do we discount because he’s beneath us in the power structure?
- What group in our parish is unintentionally excluded?
- Single young adults?
- Retirees?
- Childless couples?
- Mothers of preschoolers?
How can we invite them to the table, sharing our gifts and recognizing the gifts they have to offer?
