Thought for the week - 28 September 2025

A while ago I was shopping in Home Bargains, like everyone else, I’d been caught in a sudden shower, and as we queued, damp and bedraggled, I noticed a man a couple of places ahead. When he reached the till, he leaned over quietly and asked the cashier if he could pay for the lady behind him as well. She was a stranger, no fanfare, no fuss… just a genuine act of kindness. You could see the surprise on the lady's face; his kindness lifted the mood. That small moment of generosity came back to me as I read today’s Gospel.

We are given a most striking of parables... a rich man, clothed in purple and fine linen, feasting every day whilst Lazarus, poor, covered with sores, is lying at his gate. When they both die, their fortunes are reversed. Lazarus is carried to Abraham’s side, the rich man finds himself in torment, still blind to the chasm between them.

This parable is not just about the life to come it is about how we see and respond to those around us today. Scripture is full of God’s concern for the poor, the overlooked, the forgotten. Amos warned against those who lounge in luxury while others suffer. And today Jesus asks us... who is at our gate?

As a hospital chaplain, I often meet people who are alone, no visitors, no family, sometimes even no one to be present at their funeral. Yet every person has a story, relationships, experiences, each one matters. Today’s Gospel tells us that no one is invisible to God. God sees Lazarus, God sees each of us.

Loneliness and poverty aren’t only end-of-life issues. Here in Blackpool and across the Fylde there are people in our own streets, in bedsits and flats who live alone, who rarely see a visitor, who feel forgotten. The Beatles once asked in the song “Eleanor Rigby”: ‘All the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong?’ Eleanor Rigby, ‘who died in the church and was buried along with her name,’ stands for countless people whose lives pass unnoticed. Yet the Gospel tells us that every name is known to God, every life held in his love.

In the hospital I see how God raises up people who notice. Take for example our Chaplaincy Volunteer Team, many from local churches, including St Stephen’s, they walk the wards, offering conversation, prayer, or simply a listening ear. Their love in action reminds patients… you matter, you belong, you are seen.

The same is true in parish life, our Friday afternoon gatherings in the church hall might seem small... cups of tea, chat, cake, music, laughter. Yet for some they are a lifeline. In those simple moments Christ is present, quietly transforming lives.

This Gospel also points us beyond our town, think of when we witness natural disasters, wars, or injustice, so often we also see hearts moved to generosity. Appeals are launched, donations made, prayers offered. Organisations like Christian Aid remind us that compassion can take root and change lives, tackling not just emergencies but the deeper causes of poverty. The vision of our own diocese puts it well: “Healthy Churches Transforming Communities.” The Good News of Christ is not only about words but about action... bringing hope, dignity, and healing, especially to those whom society overlooks.

The witness of history shows what can happen when faith awakens compassion. Think of Desmond Tutu confronting apartheid, William Wilberforce opposing the slave trade, or the slum priests of the Anglo Catholic Oxford Movement, walking the streets of Victorian London. Each began with noticing those whom others overlooked. So today, the parable of Lazarus comes as both a warning and a promise. A warning not to let our eyes be closed. A promise that God sees us and invites us to see with him.

This week, we have met a rich man clothed in purple, blind and indifferent to the need at his gate, unable even to share the crumbs from his table. And yet, in Jesus we meet another who was also dressed in a robe... not of splendour, but of mockery. in John 19:2, 5 we read... “And the soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head and arrayed him in a purple robe. Pilate went out again and said… ‘Behold the man!’”

Jesus is the one who sees deeply into the mixed motives of our humanity, who knows the depth of our need. he does not give us scraps, he gives us himself, a total outpouring. On the cross he empties himself completely, and here at the altar he feeds us with his very self, the bread of heaven.