Lk 16:19 “There was a rich man who dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. 16:20 But at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus whose body was covered with sores, 16:21 who longed to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. In addition, the dogs came and licked his sores.

16:22 “Now the poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. 16:23 And in hell, as he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far off with Lazarus at his side. 16:24 So he called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in anguish in this fire.’ 16:25 But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things and Lazarus likewise bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in anguish. 16:26 Besides all this, a great chasm has been fixed between us, so that those who want to cross over from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ 16:27 So the rich man said, ‘Then I beg you, father—send Lazarus to my father’s house 16:28 (for I have five brothers) to warn them so that they don’t come into this place of torment.’ 16:29 But Abraham said, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they must respond to them.’ 16:30 Then the rich man said, ‘No, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’ 16:31 He replied to him, ‘If they do not respond to Moses and the prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’ ”

What light, if any, does this story throw on the nature of the afterlife (specifically, the ‘intermediate state’)?

Some older commentators, including Calvin, thought that this was a true story.  John Wesley agreed.  He asks:

Is [this] account merely a parable, or a real history? It has been believed by many, and roundly asserted, to be a mere parable, because of one or two circumstances therein, which are not easy to be accounted for. In particular, it is hard to conceive, how a person in hell could hold conversation with one in paradise. But, admitting we cannot account for this, will it overbalance an express assertion of our Lord: “There was,” says our Lord, “a certain rich man.” — Was there not? Did such a man never exist? “And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus.”- -Was there, or was there not? Is it not bold enough, positively to deny what our blessed Lord positively affirms? Therefore, we cannot reasonably doubt, but the whole narration, with all its circumstances, is exactly true.’ (Source)

Most modern interpreters agree that it is a parable in all but name.  As such, it is difficult to determine what information, if any, is imparted about the life to come.  Some suggest that the story would not make sense even as a parable if it did not convey some realistic information about the afterlife.  In this regard, they might point to the (so-called) parable of the Sheep and the Goats in Matthew 25:31-46 as something of a parallel.

Williamson comments:

‘Even if the main point of the parable is ethical, it may still affirm common eschatological ideas; it is certainly difficult to dismiss all the details of the story as mere dramatic setting, especially in view of its correlation with what seem to be mainstream or popular Jewish eschatological beliefs of the time. In other words, to use such suggestive imagery, without intending to endorse the eschatological premise contained therein, would surely constitute gross naïveté or an error of judgment on the part of Jesus. Just as the geography or social circumstances reflected in the parable of the good Samaritan are not entirely fictive or inaccurate, so too the present parable most likely ‘contains several details that allude to the conditions in the hereafter’ (Lehtipuu 2007: 197).’

The difficulty lies, of course, in determining where the realism ends and the fiction begins.

Murray Harris (Themelios, Vol 11, No 2, Jan 1986) agrees that the parable of the rich man and Lazarus was told with the primary aim of illustrating:

‘the danger of wealth (Lk 6:24) and the necessity of repentance (Lk 16:28–30), not to satisfy our natural curiosity about man’ anthropological condition after death.

Nevertheless, writes Harris:

‘It is not illegitimate to deduce from the setting of the story the basic characteristics of the post mortem state of believers and unbelievers. Both groups are conscious of surroundings: Lazarus is in Abraham’ bosom and comforted (vv. 22–23, 25), the rich man is in Hades and tormented (vv. 23–25, 28). There is memory of the past: the rich man is instructed to ‘remember’ earlier circumstances (v. 25), and he can recall his family and their attitude to ‘Moses and the prophets’ (vv. 27–30). Moreover the whole dialogue with Abraham suggests that the departed have not only retained their capacity to reason (v. 30) but also gained an acuteness of perception (vv. 27–28).’

Harris adds:

‘Significantly, the same three characteristics (consciousness, memory, rationality) may be deduced from the plea for vindication uttered by the martyrs who rest under the altar in God’ presence (Rev 6:9–10): ‘O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long will you refrain from judging and avenging our blood on ‘those who dwell on the earth?’ (v. 10).’

With Dr Marston, I cannot see how Harris arrives at his conclusion, given the parabolic nature of the story in Luke 6 and the highly symbolic character of the Revelation.  Marston (2023) judges that nothing can be inferred about the geography of Hades (it is ‘parody, hyperbole to the point of satire’).  I am inclined to agree with him.  Therefore, I doubt that it sheds any clear light on the intermediate state.

Robert Yarbrough:

‘It is widely accepted that this story is parabolic and not intended to furnish a detailed geography of hell. Yet the picture of an impious sinner tortured by unquenchable thirst, with painful but unmitigated anxiety about his brothers who may end up in the same place, is far from irreconcilable with other allusions and images used by Christ in Matthew’s Gospel.’

(in Morgan, Christopher W. Hell Under Fire: Modern Scholarship Reinvents Eternal Punishment)

Blomberg, however, cautions:

‘The restrictions against unlimited allegorizing and the fact that the source for much of the imagery of the parable probably was popular folklore should warn against viewing the details of this narrative as a realistic description of the afterlife. Attempts to limit those details to teaching about the “intermediate state” of the believer (after death and before the final resurrection) or to the situation of Old Testament saints (before Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection) do not alter this fact. Nevertheless even the most sober of commentators continues to squeeze more out of this parable than is defensible, probably because there are so few passages in Scripture which clearly teach about the details of life after death. Thus Murray Harris, for example, can at first agree that “the parable of the rich man and Lazarus was told to illustrate the danger of wealth and the necessity of repentance, not to satisfy our natural curiosity about man’s anthropological condition after death,” and yet immediately seem to ignore this salutary warning by adding, “it is not illegitimate to deduce from the setting of the story the basic characteristics of the post mortem state of believers and unbelievers.” Among these he includes consciousness of surroundings, memory of one’s past, capacity to reason, and acuteness of perception. If these are true aspects of the afterlife, they will be derived from other passages of Scripture, not from this one. Otherwise one might just as well conclude that it will be possible to talk to those “on the other side,” that Abraham will be God’s spokesman in meting out final judgment, and that some from “heaven” will apparently want to be able to travel to “hell” (“those who want to go from here to you”-v. 26)!’

Wright (Jesus and the Victory of God) counsels against supposing that the parable describes the afterlife, or that Jesus’ intention is to warn people to be sure of their ultimate destiny.  In that case, says Wright, it would not be a parable at all.  It is, rather, a traditional tale with an unexpected ending.  A big part of the surprise is the realisation that the welcome afforded to the beggar in the life to come is already being extended to the poor and needy, in this life, by Jesus himself.  God’s future kingdom is breaking in, right now.  The rich man, who represents ‘the rich, the Pharisees, the grumblers’, now need to repent if they are to share in the same blessing; and that message has already been made plain in the writings of Moses and the prophets.

Snodgrass (Stories With Intent) cautions:

‘The problem of understanding the biblical material on life after death is much more problematic than most Christians are aware. We know far less, and Scripture is far less clear, than most think. Conclusions have been based on very little evidence, and it is only fair to say we have been influenced more by Greco-Roman and medieval ideas than by Scripture.’

For Snodgrass, it is a common assumption in Jewish writings that the righteous and the unrighteous can see each other.  This was necessary, from a moral and literary point of view, to show to both that justice has prevailed.

But:

‘The parable is not intended to provide a schedule or details about precisely what happens after death. The “bosom of Abraham” is not literal, but points to a place of honor and celebration. If this detail is not literal, then caution must be applied to the other details as well.’

Nevertheless:

‘Although the caution about reading the details too literally is needed, the parable’s eschatological relevance cannot be wiped away. The themes of reversal and judgment must be given their due. The parable is a warning to the rich and emphasizes the importance of what humans do with the present, and it still teaches that humans will be judged for the way they lived and that the consequences will be serious.’

Paul Marston (Death and ‘Hell’: What the New Testament Does and Does Not Teach) agrees that this story does not impart any  information about the geography of hell or the nature of the intermediate state:

(a) The background is an ongoing dispute about love of money (Luke 12:15; 14:12–14; 14:33; 16:1–9; 16:11–14).

(b) The story highlights the rich man’s selfishness and contempt for the poor.

(c) There is no pre-existing Jewish teaching that paints such a picture of the contrasting destinies of the rich and the poor, or of the righteous and the unrighteous:

‘So it is unlikely that Jesus was trying to frighten selfish Pharisees with a story about a kind of Hades in which they did not believe,
when they had ignored all his teaching on their fate at a resurrection and final judgment in which they did believe.’

(d) There were, however, Greek, Roman and Egyptian stories about visits to the realm of the dead, and Jesus may well have been drawing on this popular folklore to make his point (just as we might refer to, St George and the Dragon).

‘In the light of the repeated requests for Jesus to demonstrate a ‘sign’ (Mt 12:38; 16:1; Jn 2:18; 4:48; 6:30), Jesus’ concludes the story by warning: “If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead’ (Lk 16.31).”‘

(e) If the story really was intended to portray Hades, various absurdities would result:

• It would imply that repeated conversations between Abraham and those in agony in the flames are possible;
• If Lazarus went back to the rich man’s family as a beggar, who would believe him; and if he returned in some other form, who would believe that he was Lazarus [If they had ever been aware of his existence?]?
• How is it that the rich man was in torment before the resurrection and final judgment, when the general NT view is that judgment takes place after the final resurrection?

Dr Marston adds (personal communication) – presumably, with certain interpretations of this parable in mind – that the idea of those who have not yet been judged to be suffering agony in sight of the righteous in their bliss is ‘repugnant’.  Better, Marston argues, to accept that Scripture teaches that the intermediate state is one of unconsciousness – or, at most, one of ‘dream-like semiconsciousness’.

Part of my own response to this would to simply affirm that the intermediate state moves the ‘already-not yet’ situation one stage further on, so that both the righteous and unrighteous dead experience joy and misery respectively in anticipation of the final verdict.  But I accept that this cannot be demonstrated with confidence from this passage, since I am uncertain which, if any, elements of it are realistic.