Sermon for Sunday, September 28, 2025

September 28, 2025

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott


Luke 16:19-31



“There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day.” It’s the first verse of today’s Gospel, and you already know where this is going, right? Some of you might remember that in the Gospel of Luke, any time we have a rich man, we know that Jesus is about to teach a lesson about the dangers of wealth. In the Gospel of Luke, it’s O.K. to have riches, but you don’t want to be the rich man in a parable.

Maybe by now you're feeling a bit frustrated: week after week of reminders that we shouldn't get too comfortable with our worldly possessions. Maybe you suspect whoever chose this common lectionary of readings of being just a tad socialist. Or maybe you’re wondering why we can’t have some variety. It’s even worse than August of 2024 when we had week after week of teachings on bread—now we have week after week of teaching on the dangers of wealth, but no fun experiments like the kind we had on bread. You might be wishing to be admonished about some other human behavior, just for a change.

Those who study such things would remind us that economic injustice is one of the most common themes in the Bible. In his book, God's Politics, Jim Wallis tells of tabulating Bible verses when he was in seminary: "We found several thousand verses in the Bible on the poor and Gods' response to injustice. We found it to be the second most prominent theme in the Hebrew Scriptures Old Testament--the first was idolatry, and the two often were related. One of every sixteen verses in the New Testament is about the poor or the subject of money (mammon, as the gospels call it). In the first three gospels it is one out of ten verses, and in the book of Luke, it is one in seven.”

If we take the Bible as the primary text of Christianity, and most of us do, the message is clear. God's place is with the poor and oppressed. The behavior that most offends God is treating people without love and concern for their well being. It’s not wise to be like the rich man in today’s parable. He’s not treating Lazarus in any way at all. Even though Lazarus is at the gates of his house, the rich man simply doesn’t see Lazarus. He’s not evil, the way the rich people have been in other parables. He’s just completely oblivious.

Lazarus has no food, but his body provides nourishment for the dogs. Keep in mind that ancient people saw dogs differently than we do. New Testament scholar Amy-Jill Levine tells us that ancient people saw the saliva of dogs as having healing properties. We’re not supposed to see these dogs as pets. But even undomesticated dogs have more concern for Lazarus than the rich man. They see Lazarus in a way that the rich man doesn’t. They see him as needing comfort and healing. They are willing to stay with him, even though he is miserable.

Both of these characters are at opposite ends of the extreme, so extreme as to be almost caricature. The rich man dresses in rich purple and fine linen, fabrics that most ancient people will never have the chance to wear. He has a sumptuous feast, not just once a season or once a month—but every single day. He is richer than rich.

Similarly, Lazarus is poorer than poor. He has no assets at all. He’s been dumped at the door of a rich man, and he can’t even get the crumbs from the sumptuous feasts. Yet Lazarus has a name, and the rich man does not.

We might be tempted to see this reversal of fortune as the moral of the parable. If we suffer now, we’ll be rewarded in the afterlife. Those of us who aren’t rich may relish the vision of rich people having to suffer through all of humanity.

But it’s not wealth itself that’s bad—it’s the way that wealth can transform the wealthy that is such a danger. One of the dangers of wealth is that it can blind the wealthy to the fate of those less fortunate.

Even in the afterlife, the rich man hasn’t learned a lesson. He still wants to boss everyone around. He couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to Lazarus when they were both alive, and in death, he wants to send Lazarus back to warn his brothers. Abraham makes it clear that it’s not going to happen. Like the rich man, they are so oblivious to the sufferings of others that even someone coming back from the dead will not convince them.

It's worth considering what suffering we don’t see in our current world. Where does our wealth blind us? We might protest that we’re not the rich man in the parable, but we do live in one of the richest nations in history. We are rich in ridiculous ways, historically speaking. And the parable warns us of the ways that wealth can blind us to the suffering of those that are not far away.

The rich man wants to believe that his brothers will change their behavior if they just get some certitude about what the teachings of the Law and the prophets mean. If Lazarus just came back from the dead, surely they would believe. Here, too, we should ask ourselves where we demand certitude.

We’ve had week after week of Jesus telling us of the dangers of wealth, that wealth blinds us to the treasure that is truly important. We’ve had week after week of Jesus telling us that we can’t serve God and money both. Have we given away our wealth? Have we changed our behavior? Are we waiting for some additional certitude?

Scholar Amy-Jill Levine reminds us that this parable does for us what the rich man wants Lazarus to do for his brothers—it warns us of the dangers of extreme wealth and of the need to help the poor. After week after week of lectionary teaching on the subject of the dangers of wealth, we can’t say that we haven’t been warned.

God does want us to be rich. But God doesn't care about us being rich in worldly goods. Anyone who has studied history--or just opened their eyes--knows how quickly worldly goods can be taken away. But those of us who have dedicated our lives to forging whole human relationships and helping to usher in the Kingdom now and not later--those of us rich in love are rich indeed.