Parables are like onions. They have layers of meaning, just as a onion has layers of “skins”.
On the surface the story of the Rich Man and Lazarus is about the rich and the poor – and the eternal problem of selfishness of those first. The nameless wealthy man we would call one of the “stinking rich”, the jet-set. In our times such people travel in private jets and own exotic islands. In those times you had to be “worth” an awful lot to wear purple robes and linen and to dine every day. Purple was the most costly of available dyes and often worn by royalty, linen was imported –usually from Egypt. The robe of Jesus, preserved as relic was dyed purple, too, but it was so called “poor man’s purple” made of plant juices. Another indication of wanton wealth in this parable is the Rich Man’s daily consumption of a real dinner, probably consisting of more than just one course. That would be our equivalent of constant partying. Such lavish dining, with soup and meat dishes, was practiced especially by the new rich, the senseless spendthrifts who constantly have to reaffirm their social status. They were also the ones who did not share..
Normal people in Jesus’ times would have a handful of olives, some veggies and a piece of bread for dinner. Roughly contemporary Roman literature pokes fun at the new rich who dine on wild game and – especially – have dinner cooked just for themselves. “His only dinner guest is a boar he eats”. You were expected to share your wealth, not keep it for yourself.
Whom did Jesus have on his mind? A member of royal family? A chief priest of the Temple? A businessman? – must have known Lazarus, since he calls him by name. Every day he would pass by him as the poor man lay by his door, or rather, gate of his compound. Why did Lazarus spend his difficult days there? Most probably that was the place where palace refuse was thrown out – a garbage heap in which something edible could be found. People passed through the gate, too. With luck – and the right people noticing him – Lazarus could get some alms. The problem – as always – was with being noticed.
Obviously, the rich man did not notice Lazarus. He probably did at first, just as we all do when someone needy – and not known yet – shows up in our life. He may even have struggled with the eternal problem – why was this man sick and poor? The answer to this question was much easier in ancient times than now. There was a common belief that poverty and illness was punishment for sins – personal or parents’. Such must have been also the rich man’s reasoning. We are children of our times.
Soon Lazarus – to the rich man – became a fixture, like the garbage heap itself, with its broken pots, rotten veggies and meat, the stinking fish and all that was doomed and rejected. Lazarus was a reject himself – as the rich man found out too late – for everyone but God.
We, too – are surrounded by those we consider “rejects”. The mentally ill, whose group is growing steadily, the mentally handicapped, the alcoholics, the drug addicts, the immigrants ( like them or not ), the homeless and property-less, the lonely, the depressed, the divorced or orphaned, the abused and so on.
Even the computer illiterate are a sub-group of these “rejects”. Once ALL newspapers (in paper version, not virtual one)are liquidated, these people will be cut off the news. Sounds like a trifle thing but still quite painful to those concerned.
The conclusion of the great parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man is simple and frightening. Those who are rich – and selfish – end up in Hell, the poor and disregarded – in Heaven. Heaven is the place of reversal of roles. “The Place of Greatest Surprises” filled, as this parable suggests with baggers and all kinds of “rejects”.
Simple as that and in its finality – tragic for most of us, the Rich Men and Women.
We love our sheltered lives of comfort and wealth and when confronted with Lazaruses of the 21st century we tend to either disregard them (there are so many of them) or – at close quarters – blame the victims. We discharge of our duties toward “the less fortunate” via taxes and handouts, towards God, through our formal prayers and observances. Then we turn on our computers and check the mail.
Is there any hope for us? Yes – if we admit that we are not the Rich. If we admit that we belong to spiritual and emotional (at least), Rejects. That spiritually, we are the handicapped, the homeless, the poorest of the poor. That all we possess – including the top of the line smartphones, laptops and tablets, the sleek sport cars, the most modern furniture and brands of cloths – are straw, nothing.
We will never share anything with anyone – with true humility – until we realise we do not own anything on Earth, that everything is borrowed for a very brief time.
That we desperately need to be baggers of Mercy.
That all our hope is truly and only the Mercy of God.