Fire and Brimstone

I don't do a lot of fire and brimstone preaching. For one thing, it seems to me that such preaching is often born of a hypocritical hope for the damnation of one's enemies. We are not to hope for the damnation of anyone. Rather, we are to become ever more like God, who does not desire the death of sinners but rather that they repent and live (cf. Ezekiel 33:11). Life is salvation and it is death that we are saved from (cf. Rom 6:23). Like God, let us desire life for all the sinners – our friends and strangers, our enemies and ourselves.

Nonetheless, Jesus does use the image of flame, for example, to describe the anguish and torment of the rich man in Hades after he dies (Luke 16:24). So, the fire and brimstone preaching comes from somewhere. But let's look at the whole context surrounding this image. Listen to the conversation between the rich man and Abraham.

The rich man, tormented in Hades, sees Abraham far off and calls out to him, "Father Abraham, have mercy on me..., for I am in anguish in this flame" (Luke 16:24). And Abraham answers him. First of all, he calls him "son" (16:25). I think it's worthy of note that Abraham still thinks of the rich man as his son, despite all his waste and neglect of the poor beggar Lazarus.

A great deal is often made of the fact that the rich man has no name. We know the name of Lazarus (Luke 16:20). But not the name of the rich man. (Sometimes you hear the rich man named Dives, but this is simply the Latin word for "rich man" and comes from the Vulgate - the Latin Bible). So, in the context of this parable, the fact that the rich man is unnamed in contrast to Lazarus is seen as meaningful, especially in light of what Jesus says in another place to those who do not do the will of his father in heaven. He says he will declare to them, "I never knew you, depart from me, you evildoers" (Matt 7:23). The rich man spends his life in evil neglect of Lazarus who suffers just outside his gates (Luke 16:19-20, 25). Therefore, this reasoning goes, the rich man is unknown to the Lord – and that's why we do not learn his name. We know the name of Lazarus because he is carried by angels to Abraham's bosom. He is received by the Lord and known by the Lord, which is indicated by the giving of his name.

But this meaning of the rich man's anonymity must be held in tension, I think, with the fact that Abraham calls him "son." The rich man, despite his evil-doing, is not so cut off as to have lost all relationship. Somehow, Abraham is still his father and he is still Abraham's son.

Now, certainly, this is not all that Abraham has to say. All the rich man was begging for was a drop of water from the end of Lazarus’s finger to cool his tongue (16:24). He didn't say, “Get me out of here!” He didn't beg to be delivered from the flame that tormented him. He only begged for a droplet of water. Surely this would not be too much to ask. But it would be a good thing – very like the scraps that fell from the rich man's table, which he denied to Lazarus who desired them (16:21). So Abraham must remind the rich man that he has already received his good things and must inform him of the great chasm between them over which none may cross (16:25-26). So Abraham speaks the truth even though it is a hard truth, but he speaks the truth in love – not in vindictiveness. Remember, he calls the rich man his son.

So, yes, we must issue the warning of the real possibility of damnation and fire, but, like Abraham, we must issue this warning out of love and truth, not out of some secret desire to cause the wicked to suffer. Very much to the contrary, Abraham doesn't want the rich man to suffer but rather reveals to the rich man how he is simply suffering the result of his own actions (16:25). The rich man put himself where he is. Maybe he made himself nameless to the Lord.

But, in the context of all the parables, what's more striking about this parable is not that the rich man is unnamed but that Lazarus is named. In every other parable, the characters go unnamed. Their names are unnecessary to make the point of the parable, and so they’re not given. Bearing that in mind, the anonymity of the rich man may not be as meaningful as is sometimes suggested.

So unusual is this naming of a character in a parable that some have suggested that it indicates that, at least in part, this story is not a parable at all, but a true story. The rich man, they say, may be Herod. He was clothed in purple, which indicates him as connected to the state and possibly a king (16:19). Furthermore, he later says that he has five brothers, who stand in need of warning (16:28). Herod also had five brothers. So, I don't know, maybe – but, true story or parable, Jesus tells it to teach us about how to live and how to live forever.

This is the only parable that names a character, and so the meaning of that name may be more significant than the meaning of the rich man's namelessness. St. Jerome says that the name Lazarus means “one who has been helped” because Lazarus “is not a helper but one who has been helped. He was a poor man and, in his poverty, the Lord came to his assistance.”[1]

Another significance of the name Lazarus is that it also belongs to a friend of Jesus who dies and who Jesus raises from the dead, according to the Gospel of John (11:1-44). So, in both biblical cases, Lazarus dies and is helped by the Lord. Both stories are for us important reflections about death – about what happens to us after we die.

What does happen when we die? What happens at the end – at the end of all things?

These are important questions. Maybe some of the most important questions. When studied deeply, I think the parable of the rich man and Lazarus doesn’t so much provide concrete answers as invite contemplation of the mystery of death – so that we might prepare ourselves for it.

First of all, by not only taking the opportunities that come our way but also by seeking out opportunities to give food to the hungry and drink to the thirsty, to welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, care for the sick, and visit the imprisoned (cf. Matt 25:31-46). The rich man is given these opportunities by the presence of Lazarus at his gate, and he squanders them. The only misery Lazarus seems to not suffer is imprisonment. But his situation may have been better in prison than lying at the gate of this rich man. Prison would have at least kept out the dogs (Luke 16:21). Anyway, even the dogs were treating him better than the rich man was.

Do not live like the rich man. He stands before us as a warning. But show compassion to all others, whether just or unjust, even as Abraham addresses even the rich man with the warmth of the name, ‘son,’ do not cut off from hope and loving solicitude even those who cut off themselves. Maybe, if we speak the truth in love to them (Eph 4:15), rather than cursing them to hell, they will be stirred to repentance and join us in paradise.

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[1] Jerome, “On Lazarus and Dives,” in Luke, ed. Arthur Just Jr. (Downers Grove, Ill.: IVP Academic, 2003), 261.

Between Two Resurrections

On John 12:1-18 

Palm Sunday

“Lazarus! Come out!” So Jesus calls to his friend who has died, over whom he has wept, and who has lain four days in the tomb. Cyril of Jerusalem points out, “One day had passed, and a second, and a third: his sinews were decayed, and corruption was preying already upon his body.”[1] And yet Lazarus does come out, still wearing his grave clothes, but as alive and well as you or me.

Resurrection of Lazarus. Private coll., Athens. 12-13 c.

When the One Who, in the beginning, speaks life into being tells one of us, his creatures, to live, though we lie in a tomb, we will live. Whether we have been dead four days, like Lazarus, or four thousand years, we will heed this command of our master. When the one who made us out of dust tells us to arise, though our bodies have turned to dust, we will arise. Dust cannot resist the divine word at resurrection time. 

The resurrection of Lazarus was yesterday and the resurrection of Jesus is next Sunday. Between these two resurrections is today and Holy Week. Today, Palm Sunday, is inextricably linked to yesterday, Lazarus Saturday. Liturgically, they form a unit all their own, between the Great Fast and Holy Week. So, though we rightly call today Palm Sunday in commemoration of Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem as King and Messiah, let’s not forget the place of Lazarus in all of this, who appears at the beginning, the middle, and the end of today’s gospel.

The gospel begins with Lazarus, who had been dead, eating supper with Jesus and his disciples. This is one of the signs of the resurrection of the body. Only a truly embodied person eats food. Jesus will repeat this sign after his own resurrection, when he will eat broiled fish with his disciples in Jerusalem (Luke 24:42). By this sign, we know that Lazarus and Jesus are truly risen in the body and not merely ghosts or visions.  

And then, in the middle of the gospel, we learn of a further connection between Jesus and Lazarus. Not only are the chief priests now plotting to put Jesus to death, but also Lazarus, “because, on account of him many of the Jews were going away and believing in Jesus.”

According to tradition, Lazarus, unlike Jesus, escapes their plot and lives on another thirty years. When he dies a second time, they lay him in a sarcophagus on which they write, “Lazarus of the four days and the friend of Christ.” For four days, Lazarus knew death, which no one else among the living has ever known. The Synaxarion says he never spoke of it and some say he never laughed again until he saw a man stealing a clay pot. And then he laughed, saying, “One earth steals another” (cf. Sanidopoulos).

And then at the end of today’s gospel, after Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, we learn why the great crowd is so exultant and why they hail Jesus as their king: because he has raised Lazarus. This miracle more than all the others convinces multitudes that Jesus is the Christ. By raising Lazarus, Jesus shows that he can raise us all and that he will save us – even from the last enemy, even from death. This divine triumph even over death is the sign that brought so many to belief in Jesus.

And this belief of the people is what motivates the Pharisees and chief priests to take action against Jesus. They see that, due to this great sign, many are believing in Jesus and they fear that this will provoke the Romans to come and destroy them. The high priest Caiaphas, though motivated by cowardice, unintentionally prophesies, saying, “It is expedient for you that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation should not perish” (John 11:50). And so, in the gospel of John, they plot to put Jesus to death as a direct result of his resurrection of Lazarus. 

Jesus’ resurrection of Lazarus leads today to his triumphant entry into Jerusalem – but it will soon lead also to his death. Quite directly, Jesus lays down his own life in exchange for giving life to his friend Lazarus. There is no greater love. Ultimately, Jesus lays down his life to give life to us all. It is good to be a friend of Christ Jesus. Even though you die, he will give you life.

Today, we sing again the Troparion of Lazarus from yesterday:

Christ our God, before your passion you confirmed our common resurrection when you raised Lazarus from the dead. Therefore, like the children, we carry the symbols of victory and cry out to you, the Victor over death: Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.

I believe that, through Lazarus, Jesus has something to teach us about death. When Lazarus dies, Jesus weeps. And then, he raises Lazarus from the dead. This is our perfect model for how to approach death.

First, death is an occasion for weeping. It is a sorrowful thing. It is a terrible thing. It is an unnatural thing. It is the last enemy. It is not a natural part of life. It is not “going to a better place.” It is a thing to be lamented. It is a thing to put an end to.

Nevertheless, for each of us there is a time to die (Eccl. 3). For Lazarus, there are two times to die. And for Jesus, there is a time to die. The death of Jesus is like no other, because he alone is Life. And so death cannot keep him in his clutches. When life enters into death, it is death that dies at last.

 Loretta Lynn sings, “Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die.” And that’s mostly right, and for good reason. Jesus did not want to die. And he wept again when his time for death drew near to him in Gethsemane. “In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him who was able to save him from death, and he was heard for his godly fear.” (Heb 5:7).  

So in the face of death, first we weep, as Jesus weeps, and then, after our weeping, we accept death. We embrace the cross, as Jesus does. We learn to love our enemy. And then, on the other side of that gaping chasm of Hades, there is hope, because Jesus, the way and the life, has gone there first. In him, there will be a restoration of all things to right. After death, there comes a better life with the resurrection. It is not better for us to be dead. It is not better for our souls to be “freed” from our bodies. It is better for us to rise in Christ and live again in bodies freed from mortality. So, yes, we grieve in the face of death, but we do

not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep…. For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the archangel's call, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first… and so we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words (1Th 4:13-18).

Bottom of Form

[1] Cyril of Jerusalem, “Lecture V - Of Faith,” in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers (Series 2): The Catechetical Lectures of St. Cyril, ed. Alexander Roberts et al., vol. 7, Cyril of Jerusalem, Gregory Nazianzen (Grand Rapids, MI: Hendrickson Pub, 1996), 31