2nd Sunday after Pentecost (Pr. 5)
June 10, 2007, “Series C”
Grace be unto you and peace, from God our Father and from our Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Let us pray: Dear Heavenly Father, in your boundless compassion, you sent your Son, Jesus the Christ, into our world that he might reveal to us your redeeming grace. Through the power of your Holy Spirit, open our hearts and minds to trust that in all of the tribulations we face, including death itself, that your presence will not abandon us. This we ask, in Christ’s holy name. Amen.
This morning, our Gospel lesson confronts us with a picture of life that most of us would rather not think about. Yet each of us, if we haven’t already, will join the people in this scene, as we bury a loved one. Even though our modern day practices of burying the dead have changed quite a bit, especially over the past fifty years or so, death is a part of life. Our life here on earth is finite.
I’m old enough to remember that when my Grandmother, my father’s mother, died, the open casket with her body sat in the living room of her home, where the family gathered to console each other and receive condolences from friends and neighbors. It was the custom at that time.
When the funeral service began, her house was packed. Since I was only about seven or eight at the time, I, along with several of my cousins, sat on the steps leading to the second floor. It gave us a great view of the proceedings, which we had never witnessed before. And I still remember each of us shedding tears, as we saw our fathers cry as the casket was closed and they carried it out to the hearse for the trip to the cemetery.
Today, our funeral practices tend to isolate us more from the reality of death. A mortician picks up the body, prepares it for viewing, and the family and friends go to the funeral home to console one another. Thus, we avoid those lasting images of picturing our loved one in a casket, next to her rocking chair, where she once sat and held you. And in many cases, the family chooses not to process to the cemetery, avoiding that final vision of the body being interred.
But in Jesus’ day, the burial customs were more primitive and personal. As Christopher Milarch states in his commentary, most likely, this young man had died that day, or the night before. There was no embalming, so burials took place within twenty-four hours of death. A few women, usually relatives of the deceased, would wash the body, anoint it with spices and ointments, and wrap it in strips of linen. Then the body was placed on a wooden stretcher, or bier, and loosely covered with a shroud.
The funeral procession was important. It would begin at the home of the deceased, proceed through the village, and end at the cemetery, which was always outside the city. If the family could afford it, they hired professional mourners who played dirges, shouted great laments, and wept loudly. They believed that a big commotion honored the dead, and was an appropriate expression of grief. Along the way, the procession would pick up steam. The weeping and wailing would get louder, as other villagers joined in the procession as it passed by.
Isn’t this a contrast to our funerals today in North America? Rather than weeping and wailing, we try to hold in our grief. How often we have heard persons say at funerals, “I think I’m handling this well,” by which they mean, “I’m not crying too much.” [1]
Luke tells us, that as Jesus and his disciples were entering the village of Nain, just a short distance from Nazareth, they encounter this funeral procession. Somehow, Jesus realizes that the dead man on the bier was his mother’s only son, and that she was a widow.
Even today, we can realize the extent of this woman’s grief. Not only had she also buried her husband, now she was burring her only son. I can’t think of a more painful grief, than to bury a child. But in that day, she was also burying her future security. For women had little rights, and it was a son’s responsibility to care for and support his mother, when his father was no longer able. Widows without sons to care for them, were often forced to beg for alms, in order to survive.
What happens next, according to Luke, is an incredible scene. First, we are told that when Jesus saw this widow, and realized her plight, he had compassion on her. Of course, that should not surprise us. Throughout his ministry, Jesus expressed compassion for those in need. But what he does next, if we had been among that crowd, would totally leave us in awe.
Jesus turns to the widow, whose only son had just died, and says, “Do not weep.” Personally, I have always found this to be an inappropriate comment to make to someone who has just lost a loved one, even if it is said to a man or woman who is burying an elderly parent. But to hear someone say this comment to a parent who is in the midst of burying a child, would, even today, grab our attention.
Then, Luke tells us, Jesus went up and touched the bier on which the young man’s body was being carried, and the bearers of the bier stood still. They stopped the procession, because of custom, anyone other than the bearers of a funeral bier who touched it, was considered to be made unclean, and defiled. And so they stopped, wondering what might have caused Jesus to do such a thing.
And then Jesus spoke, not to those carrying the body, not to the crowd, not to the mother, but to the dead man, as if he expected him to hear. He said, “Young man, I say to you, rise! Well, if we were to have been in that crowd, that also would have gotten our attention.
But the dead widow’s son heard Jesus! He actually sat up and began to speak. It’s a miracle that the bearers of the bier didn’t drop the young man to the street. Then Jesus took the young man, perhaps unwrapped him from his burial clothes, and gave him back to his mother. And we are told that fear seized all of them, as it certainly would have seized me, had I witnessed that event. And the people praised God for the presence of Christ among them.
This is certainly not the typical thing that we expect to experience during the burial of a one who has died. Whether the funeral occurred in the time of Jesus, or back when they were held in the homes of the deceased, or today in the professional parlors of a mortician, the dead don’t hear our voice, get up and speak.
So what are we to make of this strange story about our least favorite topic. First, I believe that it truly reveals to us the grace of God. Jesus had compassion upon this widow, in the midst of her grief, which was compounded by the fact that with the death of her son, she had no means of support. Jesus seized the opportunity to bring God’s grace and new life, not only to her dead son, but also to the life of his mother.
Now, let me be clear about this fact. There were only a few persons, in all of the Gospel stories, which report of Jesus restoring to physical life someone who had died. And clearly, he did not heal everyone who was suffering from disease and illness. But in and through these miracles that are recorded in Scripture, we are given an opportunity to witness the compassion and grace of God, which was Christ’s mission to reveal.
No, as we live our lives in this world, each of us will bear our share of sorrows and tribulations, of anguish and toil, and yes, our share of grief, as we bury those whom we have come to know and love. And I know there is a special pain and grief for those in our congregation who have buried their children, and I hope we learn from our Lord through this story, to be sensitive to this fact.
But I am also sensitive to the fact that although Jesus may have healed and saved from the grave the lives of others, he did not do so for himself. In his acceptance of the cross, Jesus revealed the ultimate compassion and grace of God, by giving his own life in death, for our ultimate healing. In taking our sins upon himself, Jesus entered into death, was buried, and on the third day, rose in victory over sin and death.
As a result, through our faith and baptism into our Lord’s death and resurrection, Jesus has already taken hold of our funeral bier, taken our uncleanness upon himself, and will not let go. It is if he says to us, even though they may bury your body, I say to you, rise and live with me.
And the same is true for all the trials and tribulations we encounter in life. Jesus compassionately cares for us. In fact, I believe he weeps for us, like my cousins and I wept for our fathers years ago, as they carried my Grandmother from her house for the last time. I believe that no matter what ills may come our way, God in Christ, through the power of his Spirit, wants us to know his eternal presence is with us, and that through his grace, offers us the hope of new life.
This, is the Gospel of our Lord. Thanks be to God.
Amen.
[1] Augsburg Sermons 3, Gospels, Series C, Augsburg Fortress, 1994
