Inside the gate — a rich man.
Purple robes. Fine linen. Banquets every day.

Outside the gate — a poor man.
Lazarus. Starving, covered in sores, dogs licking his wounds.

Two men.
Two gates.
Two eternities.

In life, divided by a few steps.
In death, divided by a great chasm.

Notice carefully.
Jesus never says the rich man beat Lazarus.
Never says he insulted him.
Never says he robbed him.

His sin was worse: he ignored him.

He stepped over him.
Every day.
Until it was too late.

You don’t have to hate your neighbour to be damned.
You only have to be blind to him.

Even the dogs showed more mercy than the man.

And then death comes.
Lazarus is carried by angels to Abraham’s bosom.
The rich man is buried — and in torment.

St Ambrose says the rich man is not named, because his name is blotted from the book of life.

Here Christ is crystal clear: the soul survives death.
Judgment is real.
Eternal life, eternal punishment, purgatory — all are real.

Paul VI put it in the Creed of the People of God:
“We believe in eternal life. We believe that the souls of all who die in the grace of Christ—whether purified in purgatory, or received immediately into paradise—go to be with Christ until the resurrection of the body.”

Death does not end responsibility.
It reveals it.

The rich man begs for water, begs for mercy, begs for a warning for his brothers.
But Abraham says: “A great chasm has been fixed.”

That chasm was dug in life.
Every step over Lazarus widened it.
Every look away deepened it.

And once death comes — the time for repentance is over.

St John Chrysostom cries out:
“As long as we have the brief respite of life, let us repent… for even if you have a father or a son close to God, no one will be able to set you free if your own deeds condemn you.”

No bribery, no excuses, no second chances.
The time is now.

Don’t forget: the Pharisees thought wealth was a sign of God’s blessing.
Rich men could pay for the best sacrifices, give alms without losing much.
Surely they were saved.

And poor men like Lazarus?
With sores, with dogs, with hunger? Surely cursed by God.

So when Jesus says: the poor man is carried to Abraham, the rich man is in torment — it was shocking.

It flipped their world upside down.
And ours too.

But Father — what about today? Most beggars are scammers, addicts, not really poor.

Yes, sometimes.
But notice: Jesus never checks Lazarus’ paperwork.

The parable doesn’t test Lazarus.
It tests the rich man.

God doesn’t ask: does he deserve it?
He asks: is your heart open?

Prudence matters. You don’t have to hand over cash if it will harm.
But prudence is not an excuse for indifference.

You can be careful with money.
But never stingy with mercy.

And Lazarus today?
The single mum scraping by.
The elderly neighbour nobody visits.
The teenager drowning in loneliness.
The unborn child with no voice.

The question is: do we see them?
Or have they become invisible?

Hell begins the day we stop seeing people as people.

The rich man begs: “Send Lazarus to warn my brothers.”
Abraham replies: “They have Moses and the prophets. If they won’t listen to them, they won’t believe even if one rises from the dead.”

And it happened.
Lazarus of Bethany rose — and they plotted to kill him.
Jesus rose — and they still refused to believe.

The problem is not lack of miracles.
It is lack of repentance.

This parable teaches the dignity of every human person.
Gaudium et Spes says: “Everyone should look upon his neighbour as another self… lest he follow the example of the rich man who ignored Lazarus.”

Paul VI told the UN: “Respect for life means multiplying bread so that it suffices for all, not diminishing the number of guests at the banquet of life.”

In other words: don’t reduce people, increase love.

Every person — rich or poor, born or unborn, neighbour or stranger — is Lazarus, waiting at the gate.

So here at St Mary’s — who is Lazarus at our gate?

• As individuals: Who do I step over?
• As families: What do our children see — generosity or indifference?
• As a parish: Do we welcome the outsider, or feast with our own while Lazarus waits outside?

Mary, our patroness, opened her arms to God.
Our parish under her name must open its arms too.

Let’s not soften this.

Catholicism is not a lifestyle upgrade.
It is salvation from hell and entry into heaven.

A faith that costs nothing is worth nothing.
A love that notices no one is not love at all.
A church that forgets the poor is a church Christ will pass by.

The Gospel is not advice.
It is an ultimatum.

Two men.
Two gates.
Two destinies.

One feasted for a moment — and starves forever.
One starved for a moment — and feasts forever.

The world remembered the rich man’s wealth.
God forgot his name.

The world forgot Lazarus.
God remembers him forever.

Which one will you be?

Eternity begins at the gate.
Christ Himself waits in the Lazarus you ignore.
The Cross is the only bridge across the chasm.

So — open your eyes.
Open your hands.
Open your heart.

Because if you step over Lazarus at your gate,
don’t be surprised when heaven’s gate is closed to you.