No One Left Outside: On Lazarus and the Rich Man

On Luke 16:19–31: Lazarus and the Rich Man

There was a wealthy man who lived in luxury, wearing fine clothes and enjoying lavish meals every day. At his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered in sores, who would have been grateful for even the crumbs that fell from the rich man’s table. Dogs would come and lick his wounds.

Eventually, both of them died. Lazarus was carried to a place of comfort, while the rich man ended up in torment. From where he was, he saw Lazarus with Abraham and begged for a drop of relief, but a huge chasm separated them—there was no way to cross it.

The rich man asked that Lazarus be sent to warn his brothers (family), so they wouldn’t make the same mistakes. But Abraham reminded him that his family already had the teachings of Moses and the prophets. If they didn’t listen to that, then they won’t listen to anything.

Lazarus and the Rich Man as a Mirror for Today

Beloved,
When Jesus tells the story of Lazarus and the rich man, most people rush to make it about heaven and hell. That’s how it’s been preached for generations…as fear, as threat and as control. “Straighten your ass up or you’ll burn like the rich man.” But Jesus isn’t giving us a road map of the afterlife. He’s giving us a mirror of the world that we’re living in right now.
This story isn’t about what happens later. It’s about what happens now. A man feasts every day while Lazarus starves on his doorstep. That’s not a distant memory. That is the reality of our world. That is the inequity in our neighborhoods…our cities…our systems that favor the rich over the poor.

Hell Begins in Life

And notice something…the rich man’s torment doesn’t begin when he dies. His torment begins in life. It begins the moment he decides Lazarus doesn’t matter. It begins the moment he convinces himself he can live in comfort while another human being is wasting away just outside. That’s when the walls go up. That’s when the chasm opens. That’s when hell begins.

Because hell is not some fiery pit where God throws people. Hell is the separation we choose when we cut ourselves off from love. Hell is the loneliness of life behind locked gates. Hell is what happens when we refuse communion.

God’s Relentless Mercy in the Story of Lazarus and the Rich Man

But here’s the good news…God will not leave us there. God will not give up on us…not the poor, not the rich, not anyone. God is relentless in mercy. The God revealed in Jesus Christ is the one who crosses boundaries…bridges divides…and will not rest until every single one of us is reconciled.
That’s why I believe in universal reconciliation. I don’t believe in a God who abandons anyone forever. I don’t believe in a God whose love runs out. I don’t believe in a God who is less merciful than parents who keep praying for their children no matter how far they wander. No…I believe in a God who is love without end, who will not quit until every last one of us is gathered home.

Loving the Rich Man…The Hardest Lesson of in the Story of Lazarus and the Rich Man

And here’s where the parable stretches us. We know we’re supposed to love Lazarus. That feels obvious. But the Gospel asks even more…we are called to love the rich man too.
That’s the hard part, isn’t it? To love the one who causes harm. To love the one who hoards while others starve. To love the one who benefits from the chasms the world creates. It feels impossible. But if universal reconciliation is real, then it must include the rich man too.

Seeing Ourselves in the Rich Man

Because here’s the truth…the rich man isn’t just “out there.” He’s in here…in our temptation to close the door, in our need to protect what’s ours, in our moments of looking away from suffering. If God can’t reconcile him…then God can’t reconcile us either.
So yes… We love Lazarus. We stand with Lazarus. We feed Lazarus. But we also pray for the rich man. We also keep a seat open for him. Not because the harm doesn’t matter. Not because injustice isn’t real. But because God’s love is that big. Because reconciliation means everyone. Because we are not whole until all are made whole.

The Eucharist, Lazarus and the Rich Man

And this is exactly what the sacrament shows us. At this table, the divisions of the world collapse. Rich and poor eat the same bread. Powerful and powerless drink from the same cup. No hierarchy. No exclusion. Just grace.

Living the Eucharist Beyond the Table

But don’t misunderstand…this table doesn’t stop here. The bread we receive becomes bread we are called to share. The cup we drink becomes mercy we are called to pour out in the world. The Eucharist is not just ritual…it’s training for a new way of living. A way of life that loves Lazarus. And yes…a way of life that learns to love the rich man too.

The Prophets

Jesus ends the story with Abraham saying, “They have the prophets…let them listen.” And the prophets are still speaking. They are still crying out for bread to be shared, for the poor to be welcomed, for justice to flow like a river that never runs dry. And Jesus still comes to us in the faces we would rather ignore. Lazarus is still waiting at the gate. The voices still echo. The only question is whether we will finally hear them.

Compassion in the Rich Man

And notice this…even in his torment, the rich man thinks of his brothers. Even at his lowest, he longs for them to find a better way. If compassion can stir in him there, then surely the compassion of God can never be exhausted. If mercy flickers even in the depths, how much more will the mercy of God shine without end?

The Vision of Reconciliation in the Story of Lazarus and the Rich Man

Beloved, this is why I cannot preach eternal damnation. The God I know is not finished until every Lazarus is lifted up, every rich man learns the joy of communion and every one of us is gathered into the feast that has no end.
And here is the vision…one day, at God’s table, Lazarus and the rich man will sit side by side. The chasm will be gone. The gates will be opened. The divisions will fall away. And the bread will be broken for both. The cup will be shared by all. Because God’s table is wide enough to hold every single one of us. That’s not wishful thinking. That’s the promise of reconciliation. That’s the Gospel.
So come to the table today. Receive the bread. Drink the cup. But don’t stop here. Go out and see Lazarus. Go out and pray for the rich man. Go out and live as people who know that God’s mercy will not quit until every last one of us is reconciled.
Because here’s the truth…there is no chasm God cannot cross. There is no hell God cannot harrow. There is no one…not Lazarus, not the rich man, not you, not me…who will be left outside the overwhelming embrace of God’s eternal love.
Amen.