Proper 5 - 9 June 2013

“Raised for What”

The Third Sunday after Pentecost

9 June 2013

The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour

Mill Valley, California

I Kings 17:17-24

Psalm 30

Galatians 1:11-24

St. Luke 7:11-17

INI

I just want to know why?

As we continue to get to know one another, you will soon realize that I love movies, and that they often make their way into my preaching.  One favorite scene of mine will help us; I think, to not only understand the readings for this day, but to inculcate them into our lives.  I am thinking of the scene in “Steel Magnolias” following the burial of Sallie Field’s “daughter”

I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm FINE! I can jog all the way to Texas and back, but my daughter can't!! She never could!! Oh, God. I'm so mad, I don't know what to do!! I wanna know why! I wanna know WHY Shelby's life is over!! I wanna know HOW that baby will EVER know how wonderful his mother was. Will he EVER know what she went THROUGH for him?

Oh, God, I wanna know whyyyy! Whhhyyyyy?! Lord, I wish I could understand. No! No! No! It's not supposed to happen this way. I'm supposed to go first. I've always been ready to go first. I-I don't think I can take this. I-I don't think I can take this. I just wanna hit somebody til they feel as bad as I do! I JUST WANNA HIT SOMETHING! I WANNA HIT IT HARD!

I never fail to catch this scene because it embraces all of the emotions that come to us with the death of a friend, or a child, or someone we don’t even know.  Like Sally, we want to know why.  It is poignant for me this weekend, especially, following two funerals yesterday, one a priest, Fr. James Swearingen at The Church of the Advent, and the other an actress and friend, Barbara Oliver, founder of the Aurora Theater in Berkeley and a member of Saint Mark’s Church. 

It comes closer to us all with the death of Evan Ferrin, and Ada White this last week.  We too join with others as we wonder “why?”  We join in a procession, along with the Widow of Nain, who in laying her dead son to rest, wondered about her own future in her community.  Also with us in this procession of death is the Widow of Zarephath, who wondered about the death of her son as well.  With them we make our way out of town, out of a community of friends, out of “normal” society and go to a place to return the gift of our dead friends to the embrace of the earth.  We don’t walk alone, others walk with us to share in our sorrow, or walk with us in their own pain and distress. 

Common amongst us all in this procession are the questions that reside in the back of our minds.  Why?  The widow of Nain is quiet, resigned, and perhaps numb with her imposed reality.  Zarephath, however, is not.  She is seething with anger.  She comments to Elijah, "What have you against me, O man of God? You have come to me to bring my sin to remembrance, and to cause the death of my son!"  Like the disciples of Jesus, and most of those in the ancient near east, she saw death as the result of her own, or her son’s sin.  Death was the result of some unseen and unknown fault.  That is the silent momentum of the procession that goes to the countryside to bury the dead.  What have I done to cause this? Why is God dealing in death?

Dancing!

You have turned my wailing into dancing; you have put off my sack-cloth and clothed me with joy.  (Psalm 30:12)

This is a scene of contrasts.  In the Gospel we have the procession bewailing the death of the young Man.  This procession of sorrow is met with a procession of joy that is coming from the joys that accompanied the healing of the centurion’s slave.  Jesus and his friends are filled with life and fresh beginnings.  Not only has the slave from last Sunday’s gospel been saved and healed, but the centurion has been given new life as well.  Given the gift of great faith, he follows in the procession, not in a literal way, but in the manner of belief and belonging.  What will follow his joy will be a new life, new behaviors, and a new way in which the world will see him.

In the midst of the joy in the Jesus procession comes the reality of the people coming from the village of Nain.  The joy of Jesus is met with the sorrow of Nain.  It is an emotional confrontation that does not go unnoticed by Jesus.  “When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, ‘Do not weep.’"  Jesus calls her out of her sorrow; indeed he calls all who were accompanying her out of their sorrow as well.  He calls us out of our sorrow.   If we follow Jesus in his living we soon see that he was constantly encountering death.  This was not only the promise of his own death, but the kind of death known in the lives of those who sought him out for healing.  It was not just the loss of breath, but also the loss of life itself that troubled Jesus.

In the story of the son of the widow of Zarephath, we have two words that describe the son’s situation.  One Hebrew word describes the breath of just living, the air that we take into our lungs.  That was what was missing when the mother asks Elijah to intervene.  When Elijah finishes his prayers and exercises with the son, the son’s condition changes.  Now he is filled with nephesh the breath of life that is blown into us by God’s Spirit.

The Lucan Beatitudes can give help us here in seeing ordinary life from Spirit-blown life.  Jesus addresses six human conditions in the Sermon on the plain: Poverty, Hunger, Sorrow, Wealth, Satisfaction, and a good reputation.  All of these are, in their own way, death. Unlike Matthew, Luke does not spiritualize these conditions.  Poverty is not poverty of spirit, but poverty – a lack of what might be necessary for life.  However, into each of these realities, Jesus sends the spirit of life.  Into poverty, those who can give and help are sent.  Into Hunger, those who can give the gift of bread are sent.  Into sorrow, those with a comforting breast and heart are sent.  Into wealth, those with needs are sent.  Into satisfaction those with anxiety and discomfort are sent.  To counter the good reputation, those who need a good word are sent.  The blessings and curses of Luke are met by each other – blessings for the curses, and curses for those blessed beyond their own need.

The sons are raised through the prophetic actions of Elijah, and those of Jesus.  Both wish to place God in these situations of death, and show God to be the Giver of Life.  What then shall we do?

Coming and Going

In the Baptismal Liturgy that I remember from my childhood, these words were said as the candidate was anointed with oil and the sign of the cross, just as we did last Sunday to Hutton and Devon.  The cross was drawn in oil, as the priest said:

The LORD will guard your coming and going both now and forever. (Psalm 121:8)

We come and go from this place frequently.  Sometimes we are in the procession of Jesus – full of the spirit of joy and of healing.  Sometimes we are in the procession that is defined by death and sorrow.  It depends.  God is with us in both, with a hand of healing, and a hand of guidance.  Whatever our situation, God is there, alive in our own baptismal grace.  We belong, and we have heard the word, and now it is time to behave, to act, to show forth to others what has born us up in joy, or out of our sorrow.

Last Sunday, at the baptism, we made some promises.  We recited our own covenant with the God that walks with us.  And in doing that we moved beyond belief into a life of action and mission.  Here’s what I asked:

Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?

Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? 


Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?

Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? 


Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

Here is where we are all raised, like the son of Nain, or the boy of Zarephath.  Here is where Jesus picks us up, and where the Spirit blows a new nephesh into our lungs, and points us into the direction of what we have been called to be and do.  Out of the teaching and fellowship, the breaking of the bread, and out of our prayers comes the ability to address death in our world.  Like Elijah we are asked to confront evil, serve as an example of the Gospel, serve all sorts and conditions of people, respecting them in their own life and status before God.

This is what will blow a new creation into our world.  If the world seems lonely and predictable in its difficulties and sorrows, walk with a joyful Jesus and say to all that confronts us, “Young man, I say to you rise.”  You know who these young men and women are, these people who are pressed on by death, who need the joy of your heart and the gift of your own healing.  You know them. 

After Jesus’ words to him, the young man spoke.  I wonder what he said.  I wonder what you will say when you realize that Jesus raises you as well from death into life.  I wonder what those around you will say when they see the new life that is in you.  Speak and share. Like Elijah we are called to do in our world, and in our doing, life will be both given and shared.

SDG