Luke alone
tells this story. It helps him further
identify Jesus to his readers and to us.
*********
Luke 7:11-17
Doubtless
you have met one as you’ve driven down the street. Funeral processions are a regular experience
in city life. We’ve become accustomed to
them. Sometimes we may feel frustrated
as the procession continues on through the red light, with the sheriff’s deputy
standing at attention next to his motorcycle, while we have to wait as our
light turns from green back to red. Of
course, in small towns it’s still customary to stop as the procession goes
by. It’s a gesture of respect. Sometimes you wonder whose funeral it
is. Maybe you try to guess if the
deceased is old or young by gauging the age of the mourners who drive by. In any case, the procession is a reminder
that death is an ever-present fact of life.
A Funeral
Canceled
It was
certainly an ever-present fact of life in the first-century world of
Palestine. Diseases that we can deal
with by taking a common antibiotic could strike down a person in their
prime. But the crowds following Jesus
probably weren’t thinking of the specter of death. His teachings were thought-provoking, his
clashes with the authorities were sometimes amusing, and then there were the
miracles. They were just amazing. So, the people in the crowd following Jesus
may not have been giving much thought to death as they approached the village
of Nain. But that would change. Coming out of the village was a funeral
procession.
Luke tells
us it was the funeral of the only son of a widow. He had probably died that day or late the day
before since it was Jewish custom to bury the dead on the same day or as soon
as possible. The procession was made up
of townspeople who may or may not have known the young man and/or his
mother. Craig Keener says it was
customary to drop everything and join a funeral procession as a gesture of
respect. It may not have been done in a
city like Jerusalem, but such customs were probably followed in a town like
Nain.
Jesus sees
the procession and does three things that might have disturbed both crowds.
As the two
groups meet, instead of standing aside to allow the mourners to pass, Jesus
speaks to the grieving mother. He tells
her, “Do not weep.” Don’t weep. Why weeping is the universal sign of
mourning. Certainly, Luke tells us Jesus
was filled with compassion for her but she didn’t know that. He was just a man who told her to quit doing
what seemed the most natural thing in the world. She may have even wondered if she would ever
stop weeping. I’ve heard people tell
grief-stricken men and women, “Now, don’t cry.
Your loved one is in a better place.”
That might be true but it doesn’t negate the sense of loss in the here
and now. So, don’t ever say to a
grieving person, Don’t weep; unless, of course, you can do what Jesus was about
to do.
Next,
stepping past the mother, Jesus lays his hand on the bier to stop those
carrying it from proceeding. To
interrupt a funeral was a profound breech of etiquette. It would be worse than allowing your cell
phone to ring as the minister reads the scripture during a modern funeral. More shocking was how Jesus stopped the
funeral.
The third
thing Jesus did was the most shocking.
He touched the bier. The very act
of touching a corpse or the funeral couch was one of the most severe taboos in
Jewish culture. It made a person
ritually unclean; they would be unclean for a day. This applied even to those carrying the body
but it was a situation they were willing to accept out of concern for the
family.
So, with the
procession stopped and certainly every eye in the merged crowds on him, Jesus
addressed the corpse. He said, “Young
man, I say to you, rise up!” Before most
in the crowd could even mutter, “Is he insane,” the young man sat up and began
talking. That’s an interesting
note. It seems to suggest the testimony
of an eye-witness. Maybe one of the
disciples had told Luke that little detail.
Then, in
what must have been a very emotional and touching moment, “Jesus gave him back
to his mother.” Certainly, there is the
idea that Jesus helped the revived young man off the bier and led him to his
mother. But you can’t help to see
another meaning: Death had taken him
away from his mother, Jesus had given him back.
The funeral had been canceled
The Crowd
Responds
The crowd
responded with mixed feelings. On the
one hand there was fear and awe. This
was the kind of thing you just didn’t see.
They were shaken. Yet, along with
that fear, there was praise. Luke
reports two of their responses. On the
one hand, they were convinced, “A great prophet has appeared among us.” At the same time, they recognized the power
behind what Jesus had just done, “God has come to help his people!”
It wasn’t an
event that could be kept quiet. As the
members of the crowd following Jesus finally had to get back home, they carried
this story with them. Luke says, “This
report about Jesus circulated throughout Judea and all the surrounding country.” As a consequence, wherever Jesus went there
were those eager to hear him and see him.
And while the authorities, like those who had witnessed his healing the
paralytic, still refuse to acknowledge him, the common people were sure he was
a prophet.
This, of
course, is why Luke tells this story. He
wants us to go away with a clearer picture of Jesus.
Seeing Jesus
How should
this story help us see Jesus?
We see Jesus
as a man of great compassion. Luke
says that when the Lord saw the grieving widow “he had compassion for her.” Jesus may have known the woman’s
circumstances through some supernatural means.
He may have discerned the situation by observing that this woman walked
alone before the bier of a young man. No
husband walked with her, suggesting she was a widow. No other young person, man or woman,
accompanied her, suggesting the deceased was her only child. Or someone in the crowd may have told
him. In any case, he recognized her as a
widow whose only child had died.
Interestingly,
Luke mentions widows more often than any other New Testament writer. Perhaps being a physician made him sensitive
to their situation. And certainly the
widow merited compassion. In a culture
where there were no state-funded social services, widows faced real problems if
they had no children who could care for them in their old age. It’s unlikely she had savings or wealth of
any kind. Her fellow villagers were
ready to help mourn but probably not so ready or able to give her financial
support. They had their own families to
look after.
Jesus saw
this and felt compassion for her. He
resolved her problem by the most dramatic means possible—he restored her
son. The term Jesus used when he
addressed him—“young man”—implies he was not yet married. He would be able to look after his mother for
years to come, even after he had married.
Perhaps she would one day help out by looking after her
grandchildren. You see, that world was
different than ours. For the most part,
neither the young nor the old thought of the old folks as a “burden.” Each believed the older generation had wisdom
and insight to pass on; and that was something valuable.
Jesus
example of compassion has often inspired his followers. Those who call him “Lord,” as Luke does here
for the first time in the gospel, have tried to demonstrate that compassion to
the poor and needy in their own societies.
Sometimes lately we have forgotten that or even mocked it, especially if
we’ve begun to think of compassion as a political strategy rather than a
lifestyle for believers. But if we would
be Christlike, we will show compassion to those who face the hard realities of
life with few resources or friends.
Following Jesus’ example doesn’t mean we must rubber stamp every scheme
put forward to help the needy but neither does in mean we can get by with
offering only heartfelt prayers.
We see Jesus
as the focal point of God’s work in the world.
The crowd realized God was at work in the world and that Jesus was
the agent of his activity—“a great prophet.”
At this point, they didn’t realize all that meant. But it was a beginning. If they truly saw him as a prophet, they
would pay special attention to his words.
Some would hear those words and their lives would be changed forever. As he did for that young man outside Nain, he
would restore life--spiritual life—to those dead because of sin.
Others would
abandon their early enthusiasm because Jesus would refuse to follow their
agenda. He would not overthrow the
Romans and would insist that dying on the cross was God’s plan for him. And he would irritate so many by his
insistence that God loved everyone, not just them and those just like them.
It’s funny; we can look back through the lens
of the Resurrection. We can see what God
was doing in those little villages, those crowded towns, and on those dusty
roads. We can see God was revealing
himself to the world. We can see he was
becoming the Good News for everyone.
Yet, we
still sometimes become irritated that Jesus does not execute our agenda, meet
our expectations. Just as bad, we
sometimes portray him as an admirable figure of history but one who would never
do anything disturbing or embarrassing.
We picture him a one who would never become dirty or “unclean” in order
to bring life to the dead. We’re just a
little uncomfortable with his willingness to throw his reputation to the wind
to do God’s work. In other words, we
forget that he remains the focal point of God’s activity in a broken world and
he yearns for the church to be the venue and conduit of that activity in that
world.
We see Jesus
as the Victor over death. Three
times in his ministry, Jesus would raise the dead. He would raise this young man, Jairus’
daughter, and Lazarus of Bethany. The
circumstances were different in each case.
One of the miracles took place in private, two were in public. Two involved young people, one an older man.
Two of those raised had but recently died; one had actually been buried for
four days. Each case reminded people of
God’s great power. We can imagine the
witnesses at Nain recalling how both Elijah and Elisha had raised a widow’s son
from death. No wonder the crowd
proclaimed Jesus a prophet. By the way,
there is no record of the religious leaders being at Nain. There was no one to rebuke the crowd by
saying, “Just a minute, we’ll decide who’s a prophet and who isn’t.”
At this
point, the crowd had no way of knowing just how great a Victor over death Jesus
would be. As we look back at his
crucifixion and that silent Saturday, we remember that not even his closest
disciples imagined he would walk out of his own tomb.
Jesus’
victory over death is at the heart of our faith. We believe it confirms everything he claimed
about himself. Years later Paul would
write to the Christians in Thessalonica words that echoed what Jesus said to
that grieving widow and mother. He didn’t
say, “Don’t weep” because he knew that death still takes our loved ones from us
and leaves us without them for a while.
Instead, he said, “Don’t grieve—like those who have no hope.” Yes, we grieve. But ours is not a hopeless grief. Our grief is softened because we know Christ
has defeated death and we may share his victory with him.
This
canceled funeral became part of the body of evidence to confirm Jesus’ identity
to one whose faith may have been wavering.
John the Baptist was in prison at this time. He had been arrested because of his preaching
and his condemnation of Herod’s immorality yet his loyal disciples kept him
informed about what was happening, especially as it related to his kinsman
Jesus. At Jesus’ baptism, John had gone
away convinced Jesus was the promised Messiah but now he was beginning to
wonder if he had understood correctly.
His questions may have been born from his imprisonment in the remote
mountain fortress of Machaerus but Luke seems to suggest they were related to
the reports given by his disciples.
Jesus—the man John had sincerely believed to be the Messiah—wasn’t
behaving as he had expected. Jesus wasn’t
meting out judgment or banishing Romans and that was puzzling. But instead of completely abandoning his faith,
John asked questions?
Luke tells
us that John sent two of his trusted disciples to ask Jesus a question. They find Jesus in the midst of a busy time
of ministry to the needs of those he encountered.
John’s two
disciples found Jesus and said to him, “John the Baptist sent us to ask, ‘Are
you the Messiah we’ve been expecting, or should we keep looking for someone
else?’”
At that very time, Jesus cured many people of their diseases and illnesses, and he cast out evil spirits and restored sight to many who were blind.
Then he told John’s disciples, “Go back to John and tell him what you have seen and heard—the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is being preached to the poor.
And tell him, ‘God blesses those who do not turn away because of me.’”[1]
At that very time, Jesus cured many people of their diseases and illnesses, and he cast out evil spirits and restored sight to many who were blind.
Then he told John’s disciples, “Go back to John and tell him what you have seen and heard—the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is being preached to the poor.
And tell him, ‘God blesses those who do not turn away because of me.’”[1]
In his
answer, Jesus was not only summarizing his activities, he was drawing from the
Old Testament picture of what the Messiah would do. He was saying, “Yes, John, I am the Messiah.”
That answer seems to have been enough.
John would face his death that would come not long after this with the
assurance that God was at last fulfilling his promise to send a Redeemer.
For some
reason, many Christians believe they must never voice a doubt or raise a
question. Yet, the Bible’s approach
seems to be, Don’t rebuff the doubters; point them to the evidence.
Conclusion
There is
still a town of Nain. It’s an Arab
village today with a population of about 1600, a smaller population than it had
when our story took place. It was built on the ruins of the ancient city so
there’s no town gate. It’s about seven
miles from Nazareth and is situated on a pretty hillside. The village has a mosque and a Franciscan
church (built by monks in the nineteenth century with the help of the Muslim
community). That church replaced one
built by the Crusaders and allowed to fall into ruin. The best I can tell, the village’s only claim
to fame is that Jesus once interrupted a funeral there.
We don’t know
what happened to this young man. Did he
simply return to the life he had known before his death? Did he ever stand looking at the green
hillside surrounding his home and say, “I shouldn’t be here”? Did he ever put his arm around his mother
and say, “We are blessed in ways we can never repay”? As the gospel began to spread following that
post-Easter Pentecost, did he become a believer? Did he ever say to his children and
grandchildren, “I want to tell you about Jesus”?
We just don’t
know. But I know that like that young
man we have been given life. What has
that gift prompted us to do?
