Lent places before us a stark choice: where shall we place our trust? In the fleeting consolations of this world, or in the living God who searches the heart?
The Prophet Jeremiah speaks with prophetic severity:
“Cursed be the man that trusteth in man, and maketh flesh his arm… Blessed be the man that trusteth in the Lord, and the Lord shall be his confidence.” (Jer 17:5,7)
The imagery is striking. One who trusts merely in human strength is like a shrub in the desert—dry, isolated, unable to perceive the coming of good. But the soul that trusts in God is compared to a tree planted by the waters, whose roots run deep and whose leaves remain green even in times of drought.
The Fathers of the Church see in this contrast not only a moral lesson but a spiritual diagnosis of the human heart. St. Augustine writes that the human heart becomes barren when it rests in creatures rather than in the Creator:
“The soul that withdraws from God becomes dry; for it abandons the fountain of living water and seeks satisfaction in dust.”
(cf. Augustine, Commentary on the Psalms)
Jeremiah then reveals the deeper problem: the heart itself.
“The heart is perverse above all things, and unsearchable: who can know it? I the Lord search the heart and prove the reins.” (Jer 17:9–10)
The prophet reminds us that the greatest deception is self-deception. We may think ourselves secure, righteous, or charitable, yet God alone sees the hidden motives of the soul. St. Gregory the Great comments that many appear righteous before men while inwardly clinging to earthly attachments:
“Often the exterior life seems upright, yet the root of the heart still cleaves to the earth.”
(Homilies on the Gospels)
This warning prepares us for the Gospel of the day: the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19–31).
The rich man is clothed in purple and fine linen, feasting daily in splendor. Lazarus, meanwhile, lies at his gate, covered with sores, longing for the crumbs that fall from the table. The rich man is not condemned for explicit cruelty recorded in the text, but for his indifference. Lazarus was literally at his gate—close enough to be seen, yet ignored.
St. John Chrysostom reflects powerfully on this point:
“The rich man was not punished because he was rich, but because he was inhuman. For he did not share his wealth with the poor man lying at his door.”
(Homilies on Lazarus and the Rich Man)
Lent repeatedly calls us to examine precisely this blindness. It is possible to live comfortably while a neighbor suffers within reach of our charity. The sin of the rich man is not only luxury, but forgetfulness—forgetfulness of God and forgetfulness of the suffering brother placed directly before him.
The reversal after death is dramatic. Lazarus is carried by angels to the bosom of Abraham, while the rich man finds himself in torment. The one who had nothing in this life possessed the one thing necessary: trust in God.
St. Ambrose notes the deeper justice of this reversal:
“Lazarus, though poor in body, was rich in virtue; the rich man, though clothed in purple, was naked of mercy.”
(Exposition of the Gospel of Luke)
When the rich man begs that Lazarus be sent to warn his brothers, Abraham responds:
“They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them.”
Here the Gospel connects directly back to Jeremiah. The Scriptures already warn us: do not trust in human strength, riches, or comfort. Trust in the Lord, and allow that trust to bear fruit in charity.
St. Augustine remarks with solemn clarity:
“If we do not listen to the Scriptures, neither would we be persuaded even if one rose from the dead.”
(Sermon 113)
Lent, therefore, is not merely a season of external penance but of interior reordering. The Lord who “searches the heart and proves the reins” invites us to uproot our trust from passing things and plant it firmly in Him.
Like the tree planted by water, the soul rooted in God becomes fruitful—bearing the works of mercy that the rich man neglected.
As we continue this Lenten journey, the Church quietly asks us:
- Where is my trust truly placed?
- What Lazarus lies at my gate?
- And will I listen now to Moses and the prophets, while the time for conversion still remains?
For the drought of the world cannot wither the soul whose roots drink deeply from the living waters of God.