Reflection on Luke 16:19-31

 

Luke 16:19-31

[Jesus said:] ¹⁹ “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. ²⁰ And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, ²¹ who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. ²² The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. ²³ In Hades, where he was being tormented, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. ²⁴ He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in agony in these flames.’ ²⁵ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things and Lazarus in like manner evil things, but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. ²⁶ Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ ²⁷ He said, ‘Then I beg you, father, to send him to my father’s house ²⁸ for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ ²⁹ Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ ³⁰ He said, ‘No, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’ ³¹ He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’ ”

Reflection

It is so easy to get distracted from what is truly important in this parable about the rich man and the poor man, Lazarus.  If you are anything like me, I get distracted because of where the rich man ends up in the story after he dies.  The story reads:

“The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham.”  The rich man also died and was buried.  In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side.  He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’”

These verses immediately fire up my imagination and I think of the images of hell as depicted in Dante’s Inferno.  Dante’s Inferno of course is the poem which inspired many artists to paint images of hell containing demons dragging people beneath the ground into the searing fire below, and people being strapped to medieval torture devices all while suffering intense heat. 

If I were in one of those really big churches, I would throw up on the screen a picture of Michelangelo’s “Last Judgment” which is found covering an entire wall in the Sistine Chapel.  Had I the technological capabilities, I would zoom in to show you the bottom of the painting which depicts shocking images of the devil peering out from the flames as his minions yank people by the hair, bite their flesh, and rip people out of loved ones arms in order to drag them down to the fiery pits.  However, I am not the pastor of a huge church with large multi-media displays, so you get this.  

Scary!  I know!

But I have to tell you that all of this hell imagery is a distraction which does not allow us to see the true meaning of this parable.  I would like to point out that this image of the devil and the fires of hell that are so clear in our minds today are not derived from the Bible, but are primarily derived from Dante’s 14^th century poem.

Now, fire does show up in the Bible, but mostly when it shows up, it is not about some sort of eternal punishment.  Rather, fire is used in the Bible to bring about God’s justice.  That is how the prophet Amos used it.  The fire of God’s justice in Amos seems to make the same point as Jesus makes in this parable.  Amos says, “Seek the Lord and live, or he will break out against the house of Joseph like fire, and it will devour Bethel, with no one to quench it” (Amos 5:6).  And, why would this fire of justice come?  Amos continues:

“Therefore, because you trample on the poor and take from them levies of grain, you have built houses of hewn stone, but you shall not live in them; you have planted pleasant vineyards, but you shall not drink their wine. For I know how many are your transgressions, and how great are your sins— you who afflict the righteous, who take a bribe, and push aside the needy in the gate” (Amos 5:11-12).

Now, that all sounds vaguely familiar: images of a fire of justice, rich men trampling on the poor and pushing aside the needy at the gate.  This sounds almost exactly like a story that you may have heard about two minutes ago.  It is a story about a poor guy who is brought to the gate of a rich man, who simply seeks scraps of food. 

In the time of Jesus, rich people would build benches outside the gates of their homes and the poor would come and sit on these benches, waiting for some scraps of food from the rich people inside. 

Why would the rich build these benches you might ask?  After-all, we are used to seeing spikes upon gates and under city overhangs in order to repel those who are poor from camping out. 

In Jesus’ time, having the community see how good and honorable you are as you hand out scraps of food to the poor went a long way to prop up your social credibility.  It was the ancient form of posting videos of your good deeds on social media today.  This charity was absolutely self-serving, but at least the poor were being helped.  Obviously, not everyone helped in this way.

Jesus tells a parable (which you may remember is a made up story designed to prove a point) of a guy who does exactly what Amos warns us not to do.  This rich man pushes “aside the needy in the gate.”  And, because the rich man pushes aside the needy in the gate, he encounters God’s fire of justice. 

Again, it is easy to get distracted here.  I, regrettably, have ignored plenty of poor people in my life, and the images of those flames get personal quite quickly.  “They’re just going to use the money for booze,” I think to myself, and I imagine the fire is lit.  “I don’t have the time to deal with them right now,” I think to myself, and I imagine I am starting to sweat.  “They’re just lazy, they need to get a job,” I convince myself, and I imagine the demons pulling me down into the punishing fire like in the medieval paintings. 

I want to remind you that in the Bible the image that we see as hell has long served as a type of sermon illustration to point to a deeper truth.  Take one of the most common terms in the New Testament that we translate as “hell”: Gehenna.  Not to be confused with Gahanna, Ohio, which I am sure is quite lovely. Gehenna which is often translated as “Hades” or “Hell” in a lot of your Bibles, was actually a very real place in this life.  It was a valley (also known as the valley of Hinnom) located just southwest of Jerusalem.  It is where Jeremiah says that children were thrown into the fire and sacrificed by kings.  I know; scary stuff.  In Jesus’ times, Gehenna was a trash pile full of scraps and carcasses which were perpetually burning, flames and ash rising into the sky.  This fiery pit served as a perfect sermon illustration for God’s justice.

You can still visit the holy land and see Gehenna today.  Today it is a beautiful valley where people take leisurely strolls.  Young people in love take selfies of themselves…in hell.  But, it was far from a lush paradise in Jesus’ time.  Instead, the burning trash heap was used as an image of what it is like to encounter the fire of God’s justice.  In other words, “Hell” was an illustration to point to a deep truth. 

Now, “Hades,” is the term used in our story.  It was the Roman place where all the dead went.  Good or bad, you went to Hades.  But what is really, really interesting in our story today is that the word for “torment” is paired with Hades.  The Bible reads, “In Hades, where he was being tormented…”  Now the Greek word for “torment” here is the word that means, “touchstone.”  A touchstone is a stone that you would rub on gold or silver to test the purity of the gold or silver.  The touchstone would tell the truth about the precious metal. 

The word was later used to indicate a torture device (thus the medieval paintings of torture devices in hell, I guess).  This development in the language actually makes sense because a torture devise is not used to kill; it is used to get someone to tell the truth.  The word for “torment” here is about getting at the truth.  Justice is about getting at the truth: the truth about the situation, and the truth about ourselves. 

Now, we are getting somewhere in understanding this parable, because the one thing that the rich man simply cannot allow himself to see is “the truth.”  Every single day the rich man feasts sumptuously, and every single day he seemingly cannot see the poor man, Lazarus, who was brought to his gate for help.  Lazarus is covered with sores and could not possibly be missed by the rich man.  There was this whole scene going on at his gate with the dogs licking the poor man’s sores.  You cannot miss that.  The rich man considers Lazarus a scrap.  A scrap asking for scraps, but only the dogs are fed.  The man dies poor.

The rich man also dies and goes to Hades.  While there he finds himself tormented by fires intended to get him to face the truth.  He looks up and sees Abraham with Lazarus.  He asks Abraham to send Lazarus to serve him some water. 

Seriously?  Even now, in the fires of justice, he is still so full of himself, that he cannot see Lazarus as anything but a slave.  He even knows Lazarus’ name.  Did you catch that?  He knew Lazarus by name, and still he never helped the poor guy.  He is so full of himself!

Abraham lays out the situation perfectly: there is this great chasm fixed between him and Lazarus.  The chasm is the man’s own separation from love of God and love of neighbor.  He cannot see Lazarus as someone worth helping.  He cannot see the truth of how he failed to love during his lifetime.  He cannot see the truth about himself!  It is almost as if there is no hope for the guy.  His life has a fixed chasm which pushes away God and all that God cares about. 

Because, that is what hell is.  Hell is separation from God and all that God cares about.  It is not simply the place where the guy with the pitchfork lives.  Hell is all about the chasm that separates us from God and all that God loves.  Hell is being separated from God. But, I think that you know that. I think that you have probably experienced that.

Do you know what the guy never once asks?  He never asks Lazarus for forgiveness.  He is unable to see the truth about himself.  He never sees the coldness of his heart.  He never sees the excuses he allows himself.  He never sees his lack of compassion.  He never asks Lazarus for forgiveness, nor does he even talk to Lazarus! 

He never asks God for forgiveness.  He is in Hades.  He is separated from God.  He stands facing this great chasm in his heart which lacks truth.  It is an empty hole devoid of love.  Though the fires of justice burn, he still cannot see the truth. 

But, if he could allow himself to see the truth, he would see something that is simply amazing.  He would not only see the sad truth about himself, but he would also see a man who goes to a cross to die and save a sad man like him.  He would see the man who is able to overcome the great chasm.  He would see the man who is able to overcome death and the grave.  He would see a man who is merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.  He would see a man who goes out of his way to heal and to save.  He would see the one risen from the dead, Jesus Christ.

Though the end of the parable is skeptical that someone rising from the dead could change anyone’s mind, Jesus still tells us this parable.  Why tell the parable if all is hopeless?  Jesus tells us the parable so that we can see.  Jesus has no desire for us to fall behind this chasm that keeps us from love and mercy.  In fact, Jesus desires more than anything that we be people of love and mercy.  Jesus desires that we be people of forgiveness. 

If only the man had asked Lazarus for forgiveness he would have heard the words, “I forgive you.”  How do I know?  In the very next story we are instructed to forgive.  People who are held close by Jesus are forgivers.  Jesus instructs that even if the same person sins against us seven times a day, and turns back to us seven times and says, “I repent,” we must forgive. 

We are a forgiven people, and we are a people of forgiveness.  We are a people who seek forgiveness, and we are a people who grant forgiveness.  And, when repentance and forgiveness shine in the darkness, chasms vanish.

What if I told you that your job is to make chasms vanish?  What if I told you that your own chasms do not have to remain fixed in place?  What if I told you that Christ’s table of forgiveness is big enough for you?  What if I told you that other’s people’s chasms could vanish if only someone could help them see Christ’s love?  Would all the chasms vanish?  Would God need to make the table longer to fit everyone?  After-all, God’s table is not a table of scraps.  It is a feast of love and forgiveness that is big enough for everyone. 

Shout out with joy!  It is a day to vanish chasms!