A Great Chasm

 “Besides, in all these matters there is a huge chasm set between us so that no one can go from us to you even if he wanted to, nor can anyone cross over from you to us.” Luke 16:26

Jesus tells about Lazarus, a poor man who used to sit begging outside a rich man’s gates. Both of them died; Lazarus going to “Abraham’s bosom” and the rich man to “Hades”. Abraham speaks these words to the rich man after he asks if Lazarus would simply dip his finger in water and place them upon his scorched tongue. “For I am in torment in this flame” the rich man says.

Much has been written about the abode of the dead based upon this story. And perhaps we should give that serious consideration. But, what strikes me is that the rich man had no “gulf” to speak of between he and Lazarus while they both were alive. Apparently, though, he never even gave Lazarus a passing thought. He may not have even been aware of his existence.

Now the roles are reversed. He is painfully aware of Lazarus now. But it is too late for him to do anything to help the poor man’s plight. It is the rich man who is now in need of basic sustenance and is in the position of begging.

I think we need to be careful not to miss the point. In all our discussion about whether hell is hot, and what “Paradise” or “Abraham’s bosom” actually represent, we must make sure to hear what Jesus is saying.

The rich man knew enough while he was alive to help the poor man at his gate. He knew what Moses had taught, much of the Law dealing with helping the needy. He also was aware of the prophets with their great pronouncements about justice and mercy. He knew what was right, but he failed to even see the man at his gate, begging each day for mere scraps from his table.

We know Jesus’ care for the poor. If we as Christians fail to see those around us in need, how much more judgment will we deserve. Jesus said that if the rich man would not hear Moses and the prophets, how would he be persuaded if someone rose from the dead. But we do know Jesus, risen from the dead, and alive now.

Who is there at my gate? Who do I pass by every day in need? Who walks the school halls without my ever seeing them? Who do I pass each day at work, barely noticing the pain etched on their face? Who is there in my neighborhood, perhaps having lost a loved one, and I go about my daily business without noticing?

May this story, telling about the “great chasm” that exists after we are dead, inspire us to walk across the very small spaces that separate us in this life. Within my own eyesight each day are plenty of Lazarus’s begging for just a scrap from someone who cares. What has God given in my hand that is meant for me to pass on to someone else in need?