Hearing The Word

A weekly newsletter delivering context and insight into the Sunday Gospels.

September 28, 2025

Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Luke 16:19-31

Jesus said to the Pharisees:

"There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen

and dined sumptuously each day.

And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores,

who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps

that fell from the rich man's table.

Dogs even used to come and lick his sores.

When the poor man died,

he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham.

The rich man also died and was buried,

and from the netherworld, where he was in torment,

he raised his eyes and saw Abraham far off

and Lazarus at his side.

And he cried out, 'Father Abraham, have pity on me.

Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue,

for I am suffering torment in these flames.'

Abraham replied,

'My child, remember that you received

what was good during your lifetime

while Lazarus likewise received what was bad;

but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented.

Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established

to prevent anyone from crossing who might wish to go

from our side to yours or from your side to ours.'

He said, 'Then I beg you, father,

send him to my father's house, for I have five brothers,

so that he may warn them,

lest they too come to this place of torment.'

But Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets.

Let them listen to them.'

He said, 'Oh no, father Abraham,

but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.'

Then Abraham said, 'If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets,

neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.'"

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The Last Shall Be First

~ Kelly Anderson, S.S.L., Ph.D

Associate Professor of Biblical Studies for the Major Seminary, Saint Charles Borromeo Seminary + Ambler, PA

Much can be said about this complex parable, but given the constraints, I’ll only describe the main characters.

Lazarus is described as poor and as “having been thrown” (ἐβέβλητο) at the gateway of the rich man. He is most likely then a cripple, deposited at the gate of someone who had the means to care for him. Lazarus suffers open wounds, and longs for scraps, yet only dogs minster to him. He “was spurned and avoided…a man of suffering, accustomed to infirmity...and held in no esteem” (Isa 53:3). And yet Lazarus, whose name mean “God helps,” is gifted with being in the bosom of Abraham, meaning he is at a prominent place in the eschatology banquet, and the last is now first.

The Rich Man is dressed in fine linen dyed in exorbitantly expensive Phoenician purple, garments usually reserved for royalty, and he dines daily on the most expensive food. He is aware of his “royal” status as a Jew, for he knows Abraham and calls him “Father” four times.

Abraham accepts this designation and likewise calls him “my child.” But the rich man finishes in Hades (ᾅδῃ), the underworld separated from the heavenly realm where his contempt for Lazarus continues as he demands Abraham send Lazarus to serve his bodily needs and his brothers’ spiritual needs. And so this child of Abraham who sought a prominent place at the banquet, is now forced by the host to the lowest place, because he did not recognize that Lazarus was a gift, an opportunity for the rich man to be the royal child of Abraham, not just by circumcision, but by following the Law and Jesus’ teachings on caring for the most vulnerable.

Sadly, his contempt, malice, and indifference for the lowly ones leaves him separated from the Lowest One, the Christ, who considers the last to be so precious that he joins their ranks to raise them up.

Who Lies at My Gate?



~ Dennis Mueller

Saint Albert the Great Church + Huntingdon Valley, Pa.

Too often, we approach this parable as a simple moral tale—a warning to the wealthy to care for the poor, but that reading barely scratches the surface. If I’m honest, this parable convicts me—not because of social status, but because it reveals how often I fail to truly see the person God places before me.

Who lies at my gate today? Who has the Lord entrusted to my path—not to be stepped over, but to be lifted up? This isn’t just a parable about charity; it’s a summons to communion. A call to recognize Christ in the overlooked, the inconvenient, the easily ignored, and even in those we hold dear to our hearts. And yet, I confess: the opportunities to love are abundant, but I don’t always take them. Sometimes I choose my convenience over compassion, maintaining my distance over discipleship. I walk past the sacred interruption, hoping not to be drawn in.

And for what? No excuse suffices. No rationale, no matter how cleverly constructed, can justify the moment I chose not to love.

But the beauty of God’s grace is that it does not condemn—it awakens. It moves me to see the person before me through God’s eyes; to use the name tag of the gas station attendant to speak her name and bless her day; to be fully present to my children, even in their quiet scrolling; to pray with someone now, as opposed to offering a prayer later. These are not small gestures—they are sacraments of encounter. They are opportunities for me to be the instrument of Christ’s love in that moment. Each one is an invitation to bear Christ’s love, to live generously, and to step not over—but into—the holy ground of another’s need.