June 9 — Third Sunday after Pentecost

Listen to this sermon HERE.


Jesus is on a little road trip around Galilee.  Last week he was up in Capernaum, where he healed the centurion’s beloved servant.  That’s in the northern part of Galilee, and that’s verses 1-10.  Now today Jesus approaches a smaller town called Nain, which is further south and west from Lake Galilee, but still in that same region.  A little road trip, little summer vaca?

And this passage that we have before us today is just quintessentially Lukan.  Did anybody read the book of Luke this week?  Last week, we jumped back into Luke, and we’ll be swimming and playing in Luke all summer long.  So I would still encourage you to put the Book of Luke on your summer reading list…

And today’s story taps the major themes of Luke.  It’s the Lukan sampler platter, the taster, right smack in the middle, Chapter 7:  

Outside City Walls, c.1647, by Jan Asselijn 

One of those themes:  Jesus meeting people — you and me too — on the margins, on the edge.  How do you hear that?  On the edge of faith, on the edge of life and death, on the edge of society, like an outcast?  Here in the story Jesus comes toward a town, as the people of the town are coming outside its walls.  There is an opportunity when we’re at the edge, an opening, where Jesus is moves in.  

Some of the most significant moments and insights in my life have been when I was exhausted.  It’s also when I tend to be far more susceptible to tears, to crying.  What is that about?  Is that true for you too?  I guess when we’re at the edge, when we could crash any minute...there’s an opening.  My grandpa, who I’ve spoken about before — 89-year-old widower: very susceptible to tears, now at the edge of life and death.
Jesus meets us on the edge, and not just the emotional edge, and the spiritual edge, but the societal edge.  Jesus here meets a widow.  And do you know, widows in those days were at the very bottom?  They were those who were no longer under the shelter of any one’s wing.  Widows were no bodies, that’s where this mother of the young dead man was headed.  He would have offered her a sheltering wing, but he died.  And that funeral procession outside the walls, presumably to dump the body, may as well have dumped two bodies. [pause]

And this is where Jesus approaches.

Where in our world are bodies dumped, discarded, ignored, or just plain overlooked?  Yet, this is precisely where Jesus approaches.

Then it says he sees and has compassion for this widow.  That fantastic Greek word splaghitzomai!  Means literally Jesus’ “guts rolled over” for her.  He was so moved that Jesus actually has a physical reaction-in-his-guts to her suffering!  Writhing innards.

That’s our God, sisters and brothers in Christ!  Not a god who is far off and could care less when we’re sad or scared, launching sentimental platitudes from on high, no!  The God who made us, is a God whose guts turn over for us when we’re hurting, when we’re grieving, when we’re alone, or on the edge.  Our God has splaghitzomai for us; and approaches all those on the edge, this day.

Then this same Jesus touches the bier.  And everyone stops.  

You have to remember, that in that time there were two categories of people:  clean and unclean.  And a dead person, (and a widow too for that matter) — you can guess what side they fell on.  Everyone stops because another boundary is being crossed.  Jesus touches death!  [pause]

And he speaks life into it.  “Young man, I say to you, get up!”  In a minute we’re going to sing that great African American spiritual “I’m so glad, Jesus lifted me.”  The earliest publication of this song is 1971 by Episcopalians, but I’m fairly positive that song’s been around far longer than 1971.  It’s another great example of oral tradition.  Some say 100’s of years old.  It’s a song creed, a musical statement of faith.  

We’ll sing it in just a bit, but just in case you think that this text doesn’t apply to you, we have verse 2:  “Satan had me bound, Jesus lifted me.”  I used to laugh at this verse, like, “Oh this is so archaic!  Nobody talks about Satan anymore, except in comedy sketches or Hollywood movies.”  But then it occurs to me that I have the potential for evil in my deepest being — evil thoughts, hurtful words, caustic actions.  Don’t be fooled: Oh, Satan does try to bind us.  Tries to center us on ourselves and on the things of this world.  How we can be disciples of evil.

Rapper Lupe Fiasco has one of the most haunting songs I’ve ever heard “Put You on Game”, where the listener has to infer that the words of the song are from the perspective of Satan, and the last line is “I hope your bullet holes become mouths that sing my name.”  And there’s this echo of gun shots throughout the song...  

Oh God, Satan has us bound.  But Jesus approaches and speaks  life into our death.  So we sing a different name.  We don’t have to be carried out in a coffin for Jesus to raise us.  Jesus lifts you now, sisters and brothers!  Jesus frees you now.  Jesus forgives you now, clean slate.  And hands you over — just like he handed the young man over — Jesus hands you back over to the community...so that you can care for us, and we can care for you.  It works both ways.  That young man is going to be cared for by his dear mother, but he’s going to protect her again also, in that cold, widow-forgetting society!  It works both ways.  

This is our God:  approaching us in our sorrow and fear and pain and sin.  Stopping everything with a compassionate—life-altering, gut-wrenching—touch.  And a word: “Rise.”  And then restoring our life and our relationships.  Handing us over to the world, to our community, so that we can care and be care for.  It works both ways, when the Holy Spirit gets in there.

And finally, the last scene in this Gospel text:  we are invited—like the crowd of old, who bears witness to the things God has done—to go and tell.  Those final verses are like a throwback to the Christmas story earlier in Luke.  I suppose this whole story is a repeat pattern of the Christmas story...here in the summer:  Death, sadness, night time, sin is everywhere, but Jesus approaches, at the margins of town (the stable, the outskirts), touching down where no one touches (death, stinky, barnyard animals).  Meeting old worthless widows, young poor maidens, and drunken, mangy shepherds.  Right into the midst of it all, comes new life!  “Rise!”  And the crowd, like the shepherds or the angels or both, then sing the story: they glorify God, and spread the word throughout the country side.  Let us go and tell this good news now, for God has look with favor upon us and this world!  Alleluia!  Praise be to God!  AMEN.