The parable of the rich man and Lazarus is proper to St. Luke. Like other parables proper to this Gospel - for example the Prodigal Son, or the Good Samaritan, or the Pharisee and the Publican - this one very much fits with Luke’s typical emphases. St. Luke, more than any other evangelist, wants to show how Jesus made himself one with the poor: from the poverty of the stable in Bethlehem, to the poverty of the Cross. Blessed are you who are poor, Jesus cries in the Sermon on the Plain according to St. Luke: the Kingdom of God is yours. Blessed are you who are hungry now: you shall have your fill. And then again: Alas for you who are rich: you are having your consolation now. Alas for you who have plenty to eat now: you shall go hungry (6:20ff).
When we read of our Lord speaking harshly of the rich, we are aware that he stands within a tradition well established in the Old Testament. Today’s first reading from the Prophet Amos gives us an example of that. Amos castigates not rich people as such, but those who are hedonistic, predatory, and culpably unconcerned, either about God or their neighbour. More fool them: a terrible retribution is on its way. Also within the Old Testament we find a good deal of moral reflection on the vanity and insecurity of riches. And the Sacred History notes, countless times, the tendency of prosperity to lure people away from God, and the tendency of affliction to turn them back to Him. Revelation confirms what we already observe for ourselves: that too much wealth and luxury tend to harden the heart. These things can tie us to this world, make us arrogant, and by and large forgetful of God. But it is certain that they will all be taken away from us, and we shall go to God naked as the day we were born. As the Lord says to the Rich Fool in another parable proper to Luke: This day your soul is required of you. And then, whose will all this wealth be? (12:20).
It has always been possible in theory to be both rich and good. In the Old Testament we have the examples of Abraham or Solomon or Job, whose riches were a sign of their being blessed by God. In St. Luke’s Gospel, Zacchaeus is an example of a rich man who also becomes a faithful disciple of Jesus. Allow me just to mention now a contemporary rich person whom everyone agrees was in no way corrupted by her possessions. Our Queen Elizabeth was brought up in palaces; crowned with diamonds; surrounded all her life by people serving her, bowing to her, and addressing her with extreme deference. Her image for 70 years marked every coin and stamp and bank note in our daily use. Yet her life was one of selfless service and duty, marked by both personal humility and also by wisdom and tact. She always identified herself as a committed disciple of Jesus Christ. And so she was almost universally loved and honoured. We pray that her eternal reward may be a rich one.
The clothing of the rich man in today’s story is purple and fine linen. That, with his daily feasting, perhaps evokes Herod Antipas: a deeply wicked man and a boastful tyrant, who lands up, as Luke tells us in Acts, being eaten up by worms (cf. e.g. 7:25; Acts 12:23). A very striking feature of our parable, though, is that Jesus offers no details about the crimes of this rich man, nor about the virtues or goodness of the poor man. All his emphasis falls simply on the contrast between them, and then on the reversal that follows.
And here is the properly New Testament moral of the story; a moral that is essentially linked to the resurrection of Jesus himself from the dead. That is: in and through the victory of Jesus, out of death will come life. Out of injustice will come final justice. Out of suffering will come eternal bliss. But the other side of that also needs to be stated clearly. Out of worldly power will come powerlessness. Out of corruption and oppression and sinful self indulgence will come punishment. Out of lies and empty show and hypocrisy will come the truth, finally and fully manifested.
In the eyes of the world the rich man of our little story is happy, fortunate, even blessed: and Lazarus the reverse. But in the light of eternity - in God’s revelation - in the manifestation of Jesus Christ - we see how that appearance is entirely deceptive. The rich man lives alienated from God, all the while directing the course of his life ever more swiftly towards hell. The poor man Lazarus, on the other hand, is the special object of God’s love and compassion. In his sufferings and humiliation he finds himself one with Jesus hanging on the Cross. And then comes the great reversal. Then we see how anyone now would want to be in the place of Lazarus. And no one would swap places with the rich man - not for any money at all - for he is now forever wretched, isolated, lost, locked in eternal misery: and all through his own free choice and fault.
According to St. Luke, Jesus began his public ministry with the announcement that his preaching of good news will be especially to the poor (4:18). Why this special love for the poor? One reason must be that the materially poor represent the radical poverty before God of humanity as such. Those who daily experience this are prepared, in the best possible way, to acknowledge their need, and to receive what God wants to give them. What is this? Well, apart from the abundant riches of this life, which are all also God’s good gift, in Christ God will give us the fullness of life in perfect joy; adoption into divine Sonship; an eternal participation in the glory of the Holy Trinity.
Earthly possessions can interfere with all that. If they fill our hands and hearts, we may have no space to receive what is of absolute value. Our business, then, must be to practise detachment from what we have, and use, and enjoy, and to seek the place of the poor man. Twice in St. Luke’s Gospel Jesus proclaims: Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted (14:11, 18:14). I might just recommend a wonderful saying of the English mediaeval mystical writer Walter Hilton. We can repeat it as often as we like: I am nothing, I have nothing, I desire nothing but Jesus. Meanwhile, those of us who live in relative comfort and security must be compassionate towards the poor. This is a moral duty, but also it’s good for us; it confers a blessing on us; it makes us somehow like God (cf. e.g. Ps 112/113:7; 145/146:7 etc.)
In her Magnificat our Lady sings: He has put down the mighty from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly (1:52). This is the Gospel. This is true good news. Acknowledging our lowliness is simply living in the truth. Then, as St. Paul has it, the sufferings of this present life are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is in store for us, when we are lifted up from our present lowliness, to the very bosom of God (cf. Rm 8:18).
These days we have a renewed threat of nuclear war hanging over our heads. In many apparitions, especially in the past century or so, Our Lady has added her own urgent warnings. Turn aside from your wickedness, or terrible calamity will come. Pray a lot; do penance; ask for divine mercy; stay close to Jesus. And he will then bless you; with heavenly blessings, that endure for eternity.