11 Soon afterward he went to a city called Nain, and his disciples and a great crowd went with him. 12 As he drew near to the gate of the city, behold, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow; and a large crowd from the city was with her. 13 And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her and said to her, "Do not weep." 14 And he came and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, "Young man, I say to you arise." 15 And the dead man sat up, and began to speak. And he gave him to his mother. 16 Fear seized them all; and they glorified God, saying, "A great prophet has arisen among us!" and "God has visited his people!" 17 And this report concerning him spread through the whole of Judea and all the surrounding country.
I have always loved this story. Perhaps it's because six of its sentences begin with the word "And" which makes it sound as if an excited child is telling it. I also love that the personal attention of Jesus is the boy's mother.
This gospel account is told right after the story (August 29 here) of the healing of the Centurion's servant. That story was about a non-Jewish man's faith. This story is about a woman. Both accounts want us to know that Jesus acts with authority.
In Luke's Gospel Jesus is always looking outward. Remember the Sermon on the Plain? In the previous account, the outward vision of Jesus is so far reaching he heals someone faraway and who he's never even met. Faith is not bound or limited by any religion, no matter how true that religion thinks itself to be. Jesus often comments on the faith he encounters outside of Judaism. Not a few people today don't understand that about Jesus. There are even Catholics who, whether they'd admit it or not, think themselves to be more Catholic than the Catholics who don't see things their way. "We will meet the atheists in the doing of good deeds," Pope Francis said. Some people started to hate Francis when he said that. But that's what happens when we forget the Gospel. When the religion loses the Christic-center.
Verses 11-13: Here Jesus cures a widow's son. Her crying is what sets Jesus compassion in motion. The story might remind us of that other raising of a widow's son Jesus references in Luke 4:26. Notice Jesus is not asked to do anything, unlike the Jews sending a representative to Jesus on behalf of the centurion. Jesus seems to know this woman is in trouble. Maybe he had joined the funeral procession to the cemetery (highly recommended) where someone told him of the woman's plight. Her only source of support had died.
Let's not underestimate it: at once we are being told that it is compassion which is lifegiving and transformative. Jesus says "Don't cry." Her tears are not only for the dead son but for her own dire prospects. Will she be forced to beg? Will she be forced into the desperation of prostitution?
Verse 14: Jesus touches the stretcher. He is at once in physical solidarity with these folks who have made themselves ritually impure by their however necessary touching of the dead. They are now outside the community until their purification. And Jesus puts himself inside that marginal community. Wilhelm Kotarbinski's painting above shows us that solidarity.
Notice there is no drama, no ritual or even a prayer. Jesus' words, "Young man arise," are sufficient. I've always thought it strange that by contrast there are people who "storm heaven" with their prayers when there is trouble. It doesn't strike me as the gospel way.
Verse 15: Jesus gave him back to his mother. Jesus is restorative. Do we trust that?
Verse 16: The people respond with fear and praise. I wonder if awe and wonder might not be a better indicator of their response.
"A great prophet has arisen among us," the crowd says. Jesus is a prophet. A great prophet like Elijah. That's no small thing. Remember on the Easter night road to Emmaus the two disciples say to Jesus (unbeknownst to them) "Concerning Jesus of Nazareth who was a prophet mighty in deeds and word before God and all the people." Luke 24:19 Let's not complain or argue about people who don't speak about Jesus exactly as we would have it.
"A great prophet has arisen among us." The people are not conscious of Jesus' future resurrection, but St. Luke is, and here he is giving us an echo or foreshadowing of that Easter event. "Arisen!"
Verse 17: The telling of the story "spread throughout the whole of Judaea." So the centurion in the previous story represents ROME. And this story of the widow's son represents JUDAEA. Both pieces will figure in the account of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. And how wonderful is this — more than two thousand years later, we're hearing the story still.
Bottom line as they say — where Jesus is, there is God mercy, God's kindness, God's restorative compassion. We're familiar with the word orthodox or orthodoxy — right teaching. But there is another word that belongs right alongside it: orthopraxis — right do-ing or right acting. I heard that word only once in the four years of seminary. Seems like a spiritual imbalance to me. Compassion isn't simply feeling sorry for someone: "Oh, what a shame." Compassion is feeling so deeply it puts oneself in the middle of it. Compassion can be raw and unflinching.
When I was a boy the priest wore a maniple (a stylized handkerchief) over his left arm. The accompanying vesting prayer reminded the priest to weep at the altar. What might it mean that the maniple was dropped in the late 1960's yet the stole remained — the vestment that goes around the priest's neck and down the front. But the stole is a symbol of authority. We got rid of the vestment of weeping and kept the vestment of authority. Hmmm!
I'd suggest we all symbolically wear the maniple. There's an Episcopal church in San Francisco where the little Sunday School children make maniples for themselves — aware of the need to bring the deepest (even tear-like) feeling for the world to Mass. Have you, have I, ever wept at Mass — not for our own troubles but for what we know of the world in its profound pain and suffering.
Before we draw to a close here — like this weeping gospel mother — who else is crying in our world today? There are many. They live on the margins. Some people want to keep them out of sight, out of mind. It is a serious spiritual weakness.
