Sermon | Clarke Mortensen, Seminarian Intern | September 28, 2025
Proper 21: 9/28/25
It's a safe bet that, whenever Amos shows up in the lectionary, he's going to be warning of doom and gloom. This is because the book was written on the cusp of one of the events that the Old Testament is centered around: the Babylonian Exile, when Jerusalem was ransacked, the Temple destroyed, and a large portion of Judeans were deported to Babylon.
Who does Amos say are the first to go? Those who think they are safe because they live in comfort, who "are not grieved over the ruin of Joseph." But if my notes from Hebrew Bible class last year are right, then the rich and political and religious leaders weren't just the first to go into exile; they were almost the entirety of those exiled. Most of the people outside Jerusalem and outside the ruling class were left alone. Presumably, they were not deemed important enough to deport. But the rich were taken. Their wealth proved not only insufficient to protect them, but even to be the cause of their downfall. They "set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches," and just like everyone else who does the same, their wealth let them down.
Jesus tells us a parable about a rich man who had the same hope. And, strangely, this is the only time Jesus gives a character in one of his parables a name: Lazarus—not to be confused with Jesus' friend Lazarus whom he resurrects in the Gospel of John. Whenever the Bible gives us an unusual detail like this, we should see a giant neon sign saying, "This is important! Pay attention!" Our task, then, as faithful readers of the Bible is to figure out why it is important and what God might be saying through it.
First, by naming Lazarus, Jesus provides him with a dignity that the rich man doesn't have. Though he hardly does anything in the parable, he has an identity beyond "poor," beyond "homeless." The rich man, on the other hand, lets himself be defined by his wealth. But that's not all that including Lazarus' name tells us. In his torment, the rich man calls out to Abraham, "Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue." "Send Lazarus." This is where we find out that the rich man knows his name. And if he knows Lazarus' name, that can only mean that he was not ignorant. He saw him lying there at his gate. Maybe he would have asked one of his friends, "Who's that guy who keeps hanging around right outside my house?" And maybe the friend would answer, "Oh, that's just Lazarus. He's mostly harmless. He asks for money sometimes, but if you just walk right by, you'll be all right." The rich man knew he was hungry, and he did nothing. Lazarus isn't a person to him. He's an unsightly yard decoration at best.
Even after death, Lazarus still isn't a person to the rich man. Before, he got no use out of him, so he could ignore Lazarus, but now he needs something, and Lazarus is the only one he can think to ask. The rich man is so miserable over on the other side, and it shouldn't be too much bother for Lazarus to make a little trip over there to help him out. And of course it has to be Lazarus because Abraham is actually important, and he doesn't have the time. But just as Jesus gives Lazarus dignity by naming him, Abraham guards his dignity and prevents the rich man from using Lazarus as his errand-boy not once, but twice.
When the rich man begs for Lazarus to come serve him, Abraham explains that Lazarus received evil things in life, and so now he is being comforted. In the parable, we don't see him do anything to deserve it. We have no way of knowing if Lazarus was a good person or not. Maybe he lay at the gate praying every day, and maybe he hurled insults at everyone who passed by. But Jesus as the storyteller is communicating that there is boundless grace and comfort for those who suffer in this life. The rich man, on the other hand, had greater responsibilities to go along with his greater power. He didn't need to end up where he did, if only he had followed Moses and the prophets, who consistently commanded the people to do justice to the poor.
If we look around the Green, we can easily see this parable come to life. Dozens of Lazaruses sleep on the ground just outside the gates of one of the wealthiest universities in the world. And just like he does, they all have names—not just "the lady with the shopping cart" or "the guy who asked me for money that one time." If you go to Chapel on the Green at 2:00 on Sundays, you'll quickly learn these names, as well as the stories that go along with them.
Dear people of God, do not underestimate the sheer power of names. The prophet Isaiah tells us, "Thus says the Lord…Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine." Our names are signs that God knows each of us in our individuality. This is why Jesus names Lazarus, even though he's just a fictional character in a parable. In calling him by name, he is reminding us that we are not the only ones with names. The people we ignore, or that we pretend not to see, are seen and known by God.
All of us are either the rich man or Lazarus, though I don't think we are necessarily tied to one permanently. There are times when we need to be humbled, and times when we need to be exalted. This parable is speaking to both. If we need to be humbled, then this parable is a warning, and may even sound like a threat. If, like those Amos names, we think our privilege will protect us when—not if—when calamity comes, then we will be utterly lost. If we pretend not to know our neighbor's name until we need something from them, then who will want to help us? But if we are the rich man, then the Good News is that we are not alone, but are rather in the good company of the saints: Matthew the tax collector, Paul, the persecutor of the Church. But like Matthew, we may need to choose to leave behind things we value in order to follow Jesus. And like Paul, we may stand in deep need of repentance.
But if we are Lazarus, then the Good News is much more straightforward. The name Lazarus means, "God is my help," and even if God is your only help, then what mighty help that is. That immortal, invisible God who dwells in light inaccessible knows your name, knows your pain, and has promised that you will be comforted. The rich men of this world will not be able to take that away and demand service because our Father will guard your dignity.
Jesus offers us Good News, whether we are the rich man or Lazarus, whether we think anyone knows our name or not. What we don't see, what we don't want to see, and what we don't want others to see, Christ sees completely.