It's in the Book - Luke 16:19-31

How well do you know the Bible? If you grew up in certain kinds of churches, maybe you feel confident, from memorizing verses, doing sword drills, flipping pages faster than anyone. I wasn’t one of those kids. I remember a pop quiz in sixth grade at my Catholic school that my classmates and I failed miserably. The principal immediately added weekly Bible study to the curriculum. Even with that, though, I always felt like I was playing catch-up.

And well into the ordination process, I worried that my knowledge of the Bible wasn’t enough. What if the Commission on Ministry gave me some Episcopal version of a sword drill and found me lacking? They’d kick me out for sure, I thought.

That worry finally lifted at an ordination retreat led by Bishop Bill Swing. He told us that after 70 years of reading the Bible, when he sits down now with the book, he and Jesus have the best time together. Scripture keeps opening new depths to him— of humor, wisdom, grace, and guidance. Knowing the Bible, he said, is less about memorizing chapter and verse and more about growing in relationship with the One who saves us. Holding up his well worn study Bible, he gave us this advice: “Live in these pages every day, and let them transform your life.” And, he said, a good place to start is the parables of Jesus. In them, there is always more to discover than what meets the eye.

That seems like good advice today, as we hear the parable of Lazarus and the rich man. A quick Bible study shows that Jesus wasn’t the first to tell this story. Versions of it appear in ancient Egyptian texts and old rabbinical writings. In fact, it was told all over the ancient Near East. Perhaps it was told everywhere because the rich man and the poor man are found everywhere (Fred Craddock, 2011).

Like any good preacher, Jesus takes the story, makes a few changes, and calls it his own. I think he had some fun with it, too. The rich man’s fancy purple robes and sumptuous feasts are over the top. And poor Lazarus isn’t just hungry; he’s covered in sores that the dogs lick. You can’t unsee that detail. And you simply cannot miss the point, that the rich man has failed. He has not shared what he has to alleviate the poor man’s suffering, which is a basic religious teaching the world over. He comes under judgement for it, dying and going to hell, as the story goes. This powerful tale hits home for us, no matter how much or how little money we have. We all feel the weight of it because Lazarus is still at the proverbial gate. And, since not a single one of us gets everything right in the moral life, the parable is unsettling.

If that were the end of the story, well, it would be a little depressing. But Jesus, of course, is no ordinary preacher just riffing on an old morality tale. He takes it to a whole new level. This isn’t only about poverty and riches. It’s also a parable about faith, and what it takes for us to have it.

“Father Abraham,” cries the rich man, “have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip his finger in water and cool my tongue.” Abraham replies, “It’s too late. A great chasm has been fixed.” The rich man tries again: send Lazarus to warn my five brothers. “They have Moses and the prophets,” Abraham says. “They should listen to them.” In other words: they should read their Bibles. It’s all in there.

And it’s not hard to find. Deuteronomy 15:7 says, “If there is among you any in need… do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy neighbor.” Isaiah 58:7 says, “Share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house.” This is basic Torah stuff, a blueprint for how to be a good and faithful person, loving God and our neighbor. How should we live, we ask? It’s all in the book (Amy-Jill Levine).

But the rich man finds that answer inadequate. He wants a miracle, something spectacular. “If someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.” Not true, says Abraham. “If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.”

This, to me, is where the parable gets really interesting. The rich man worries that his brothers need more than a sword drill to change their lives. They need a spectacle, a real show-stopping maneuver from God to get their attention. Sometimes, surely, we feel the same way. We want something big, something spectacular to change our hearts, or someone else’s. We want God to show up and make the message unmistakable.

But Jesus is clear: we already have what we need. We have Moses and the prophets. We have the Gospel. The point is not that God refuses to send signs, so all we have is old texts to go on. The point is that the greatest sign has already been given. The Word became flesh and lived among us. Jesus told stories, healed the sick, fed the hungry, loved the outcast, and then rose from the dead. It’s all in the book, so that we can know the One who saves us.

A study of this parable will also teach us that it is not a prediction of the afterlife. It's about how we live now. It’s about what kind of people we’re becoming. It's about whether we notice who's at the gate—whether we soften our hearts, whether we listen to the pages of Scripture, whether we let ourselves be changed. The good news is that it’s not too late.

The chasm that seems so fixed in the parable can be crossed. It can be crossed with compassion, with generosity, with love. And it can be crossed because Jesus has already crossed it for us. So, as Bishop Swing suggested, let’s live in the pages of Scripture. Let’s live in the Word—not just read it, but let it live in us. Let it reshape how we see the world and the people around us. Because Lazarus is still at the gate. And Christ is still calling us—into a life that is generous, watchful, awake, and full of grace.