Is Lazarus… Lazarus?

Allow me a moment to get my thoughts together.

As a bit of a preamble, there are effectively two parts to this talk. The first part is quasi-academic. I don’t have all of the footnotes that would normally be required—because that’s boring, and this isn’t a class you’re taking for credit. If you want to talk about footnotes later, we can.

I thought it was important to get much of the academic material out of the way first, because I expect that after this talk there will be a horde of biblical exegetes who will want to burn me at the stake. That’s okay. I’m ready for it.

The second half shifts into why this question has been a point of reflection for me personally. I want to emphasize that this has been a reflection undertaken for my own spiritual good. This is actually the first time I’ve really shared it in full. I’ve alluded to it in homilies, but I’ve never fully articulated the idea.

So, with those preambles in place, let’s get started.

Is Lazarus Lazarus?

That’s the question.

What is the relationship between the Lazarus of the parable of the rich man—traditionally known as Dives—and the Lazarus whom Jesus raises from the tomb four days after his death?

This will be a controversial reading. Not because it is scandalous, but because it does not align with much of modern scholarship. However, it is rooted in legitimate interpretive traditions of sacred scripture. This should not surprise anyone, since I already hold the controversial position that the primary author of both the Old and New Testaments is God himself, with the human authors functioning as his ministers—following the interpretive theory of St. Thomas Aquinas.

Since this is not a lecture on secondary causality, I’ll leave that aside for now.

The reason I’ve considered whether these two Lazaruses might be the same person is because of a number of intriguing clues in the text itself. The first is that Lazarus is the only person ever named in a parable.

As an aside, some modern scholars dispute whether the story of Lazarus and the rich man occurs in the form of a parable. But for our purposes, that distinction is not especially important. If we simply call it a story Jesus tells, it may actually strengthen the argument I’m about to make.

Before we proceed, though, we need to set the table. And as any good chef would do, let me tell you what’s on the menu: it is my position that these two figures are, in fact, the same person.

The Family at Bethany

Let us begin with the family at Bethany—Martha, Mary, and Lazarus. We know they are friends of the Lord. We know they live together. We know Martha is busy about many things, and Mary prefers to sit at the feet of Jesus rather than help with the housework, at least while he’s present.

But beyond that, we don’t actually know much about them. We know nothing about their extended family, and very little about Lazarus himself. Even Martha and Mary remain somewhat opaque.

So where do we go from here?

Mary of Bethany and Mary Magdalene

When we look to early interpretations of scripture, we find two general traditions: Eastern and Western, roughly corresponding to the geographical divisions of the Roman Empire. In both traditions, the figure who receives the most attention is Mary—largely because there are so many Marys in the New Testament, and early interpreters were eager to clarify who was who.

In the East, following Origen and Jerome, Mary of Bethany is treated as a distinct figure. In the West, following Gregory the Great and Augustine, she is identified with Mary Magdalene—the woman from whom Jesus cast out seven demons.

Each tradition offers its own evidence, and I’ll leave it to you to decide which you find more compelling. For this talk, I will be using the Western tradition.

When I was on pilgrimage in the Holy Land, I learned that scripture is filled with euphemisms that are largely unintelligible to modern readers. One such euphemism is the phrase “seven demons.” According to my guide, this expression in first-century Palestine indicated that a woman had been involved in prostitution. It was a way of saying something without saying it directly.

If we accept this, then Mary of Bethany shares the same story as Mary Magdalene—another reason the Western tradition identifies them as the same person.

What is significant is not the work she was engaged in, but that the Lord freed her from it.

Lazarus as the Key

In first-century Palestine, women were often forced into prostitution when there was no man in the household to provide financial stability—no father, husband, brother, or son. With this historical context, many of Jesus’s miracles involving women take on a new urgency.

If Mary of Bethany was forced into this life, we must ask: why, if she had a brother in the house?

Lazarus should have been responsible for caring for his sisters. But what if he was unable to do so? What if he was sick, disabled—perhaps even a beggar himself, as described in the story of Lazarus and the rich man?

If Lazarus of Bethany and the beggar Lazarus are the same person, then Mary’s situation begins to make more sense.

Scripture never tells us why Lazarus dies. We’re simply told that he does. That should strike us as odd. If Jesus died around age thirty-three, and Lazarus was his friend, we can presume Lazarus was of similar age. Adult mortality rates in the first century were not so poor that we should assume a natural death.

But in the parable, Lazarus is described as sick and disabled. If this is the same man, then his inability to care for his household—and his untimely death—become understandable.

The Anawim: Friends of God

At this point, we should introduce the term anawim, an Aramaic word referring to those who are marginalized in society. Scripture consistently shows that God has special care for the anawim—the poor, the sick, the enslaved, the outcast.

It is no surprise that many of the earliest converts to Christianity came from these groups.

Now recall: before his ascension, Jesus tells his disciples that he no longer calls them servants, but friends. The family at Bethany is already identified as Jesus’s friends well before this moment.

The poor, the marginalized—the anawim—are the friends of God.

Jesus’s profound grief at Lazarus’s death now takes on deeper meaning. Emotional expressions attributed to Jesus in the Gospels are exceedingly rare. That he weeps here is significant.

The Chronological Objection

There is, however, a difficulty. The story of Lazarus and the rich man occurs before the death of Lazarus of Bethany. If these are the same person, it would seem strange for Jesus to speak of his death beforehand.

This problem can be resolved in one of two ways. Either Jesus uses the situation of his friend as a counterfactual teaching story, or the story reveals the unique knowledge Jesus possesses—not merely foresight, but knowledge of the afterlife itself.

If we affirm the traditional understanding of Christ’s knowledge, this difficulty is not insurmountable.

Why This Matters

So what does all of this mean?

The Gospels reveal who Jesus is, what he values, and what it means to be a Christian. Jesus’s actions are not merely prophetic; they are exemplary. He shows us how to live.

If the family at Bethany belongs to the anawim, then the story of Lazarus and the rich man is not simply about a wealthy man who behaves badly. It is a call to care, to compassion, to encounter.

If we are to conform ourselves to Christ, then we must not merely observe Lazarus—we must become his friend.

The Cost of Friendship

This demands something concrete from each of us. There is a cost. The care of the anawim cannot be only structural or institutional, though those are necessary. It must also be personal.

This text has affected me deeply because of my years ministering in Portland, Oregon. I came to know many people living on the streets. As conditions worsened—particularly after the legalization of recreational drugs—the situation became more dangerous. Many of the people I knew were forced out by more violent elements.

Eventually, I found myself avoiding the problem. And I asked myself: What am I supposed to do? How do I make Lazarus my friend?

I still don’t have a complete answer.

Dignity Before Solutions

The danger for faithful people is that we jump immediately to systems, plans, and programs. Those matter. But Jesus shows us something deeper.

He gives people dignity.

To look someone in the eye, to speak to them as a person—this can be profoundly powerful. Many people on the margins have not been treated as fully human for years. We take that for granted.

And with that, I’ll stop there. Thank you very much.