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Sermon: Pentecost 2
Sunday 6th June 2010
Text: Luke 7;11-17
In the name of God: Creator, Pain-bearer and Spirit of Life and Love
Country communities are very different from the city. People are not forced together as in urbanised areas. There is an entirely different feel when living in a country town or rural area as opposed to being in the midst of perhaps 4 to 5 million people such as Melbourne or Sydney. Lives are more closely intertwined. People may not live in such close physical proximity as in a big city but have a closer involvement in each others lives.
My experience has been, and my opinion remains, that people care more about each other in smaller communities. When a death occurs it affects the whole community. Death in a large city is a much more private affair. I recall when one often saw a long procession of cars, headlights on in the middle of the day, driving slower than normal traffic speed, on its way to the cemetery. People would pull over to the side of the road with respect for the deceased, even though their identity was unknown, to allow the funeral cortege to proceed unhindered. Once, whilst visiting Broken Hill we observed such a funeral procession and it was not only the traffic that stopped, the pedestrians also stopped in their tracks and removed their hats until the hearse had passed by. It all sounds very quaint now, doesn’t it? Try taking such a funeral procession through a large city today and it would probably be subjected to horn blowing and abuse for disrupting traffic and delaying people in their mad rush to get somewhere.
The funeral procession we read about in today’s Gospel is nothing like that. The story is unique to Luke. The story takes place in a small Galilean town – it’s in the country. Here is the place where people care and turn out to support those bereaved. Nothing much has changed in that respect; ancient country Israel or 21st century country Australia.
This small and otherwise insignificant town has its only claim to fame in this story in Luke’s gospel – it is mentioned nowhere else in the bible. It could almost be like a town in our own Adelaide Hills – sitting in the shadow of Mount Lofty.
Mt Tabor near Nain is about the same height as our own hill. Nain means a pleasant place, beauty, and green pasture. It sounds pleasant and a good place to live. But like all places where people live pleasant or unpleasant, the bad and sad events of life still overtake us.
Here in Luke’s story the only son of a widow has died. “That’s sad,” you say “a tragedy – I do feel sorry for her”. But in those days it meant much more than that!
Here there is no superannuation; no widow’s pension; no social security. After her husband’s death her sole means of income and survival rested with the efforts of her only son. Now he has died – she is totally bereft, alone and without any source of income or support. It’s more than sad – it’s more than your average tragedy – it’s a total disaster for her! What is she to do?
Well, practicality says she must first give her son a proper burial – money or no money. It’s a good thing she didn’t live in our time when she would have had to find about $10,000 for a ‘decent funeral’.
This widow represents one of the ‘unseen’ people within our own present day community – those sleeping rough around the city and parklands – those without enough warm clothing or blankets in this time of winter. Notice that Jesus sees her (verse 13). He sees the invisible person – the unseen.
I have this last week been sorting through my vast array of worldly goods. I have come to the conclusion that I, like many of us here today, have far too much. I sorted out what I would need (probably more than) and took the rest including blankets and general linen down to The Magdalene Mission in Carrington street. They were most grateful and said there is a desperate need for blankets and such items at present. And I was just going to push the things into already full cupboards? I felt ashamed that I had even considered such a thing.
I suggest that we all go home and have a serious look at what we can offer.
In this story we also read that when Jesus saw the grieving widow “he had compassion on her” (v13). He saw, not just the immediate grieving at death but the untenable future situation she was facing. How often do we think beyond the obvious at times like these – for we have all experienced such events either in our own lives or in the lives of those we know? Who knows what may lie behind the immediate grief of a bereaved person? Does our compassion extend simply to the handshake and the mumbled ‘sorry for your loss’- or does it go far beyond that to touch and address the deeper needs?
Someone has written “A procession of daily death exits every city [but] a parade of compassion meets it.” People do care! And contrary to popular belief God cares.
Wesley White has written this poem about compassion.
compassion flows
like a gentle river
with the power of a flood
through a marching band in step
in random clown's feet
compassion flows
to counteract pain's presence
loss's agony
with a song for the heart
and a hope reborn
compassion flows
with an invitation
to risk joining
leaving expectations
behind
compassion flows
toward emptiness
touching what is not there
revealing
restoring
When the two groups (Jesus and his crowd of followers – not just the 12 and the crowd of locals following the funeral) meet at the city gate, we hear that "The Lord" is moved with compassion.
Sarah Henrich, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, MN writes:
This is the first time that Luke has used the word "Lord" in relation to Jesus. He is at his most "lordly" as one who shows mercy. This is a very powerful message indeed. Compassion describes the reaction of the Samaritan in Luke 10:33 and the father in 15:20 (the Prodigal son parable).
Both of these parables are unique to Luke, suggesting the high importance of compassion and mercy as qualities of the Lord and of his disciples. Notice that this story does not turn on the presence or absence of faith. Jesus sees, is moved to compassion and acts, not allowing even death to stop him. How does such a Lord lead us? “
Now that’s a very good question. Does he touch us? Does he lead us to have compassion?
Luke portrays Jesus as a manifestation of the ancient God of Israel – here he is – ‘The Lord’ as the word is used in the Old Testament. His power is without limit in Luke’s writing, it even extends to conquer death – surely a power that only God alone may possess? He raises the widow’s son.
We cannot miss the strength of the crowd’s reaction in Luke’s powerful writing. First, they were afraid – an echo of the Old Testament awe of Yahweh perhaps – then saying that “God has visited His people” (V16). Here Luke puts God in their very midst.
We can ask ourselves how can we ‘see God’ today? Well, it’s often in the presence of people such as the ‘invisible and unseen’ in our communities – people like the grieving widow of Nain.
How about a bit of practical Christianity? It’s so easy to sit comfortably in our usual pew in ‘our’ church week by week – to comfort ourselves by partaking of the Eucharist and immersing ourselves in the familiar and beautiful ancient liturgy – then to refresh ourselves with tea and cake before wending our happy way home to a Sunday roast dinner and a quiet winter afternoon by the fire. It’s just so easy isn’t it?
But if we think about it too much we suddenly don’t feel so comfortable.
I challenge you to, like Jesus, reach out and figuratively take the hand of the dead son. God can be in us just as in that ancient story. It’s an uncomfortable thought to many. We can think about giving a few dollars a week to help starving children in stricken countries – we can sort through our cupboards and offer warm blankets or clothing to the Magdalene centre or Anglicare or some other organisation.
Could it even be said of us that through our compassion – our actions and our charity that “God has visited his people”?
