Holding Back The Tears
Luke 7:11-17
by Jim Westmoreland
From what I've heard, a New Orleans jazz funeral is an experience like no other. The brass band begins its solemn procession at the church, playing hymns like "Free as a Bird" and "Just a Closer Walk with Thee" - no improvisation, no frills, straight time. Nothing but sadness blown low and blue to the beat of a muted snare drum.
Once the procession arrives at the cemetery, though, after the final words are spoken and the body is lowered into the ground, the mood shifts. Brightly festooned umbrellas burst open, the snare drummer removes his mute, and the funeral procession heads back into town to the raucous strains of "Didn't He Ramble?" and "When the Saints Go Marching In." Folks who heard the somber hymns earlier in the day wait for the procession's return...because they know a celebration's coming...and no one in New Orleans wants to miss the funeral celebration. (1)
When the procession left the widow's home in the town of Nain that day, her son's body lying atop the funeral bier, she wasn't planning for a celebration. It's a dramatic scene when you think about it - a funeral procession halted and the trip to the cemetery interrupted. No, this scene was at once more primitive and personal than our modern funerals. No city traffic to contend with in this procession. No indifferent motorists disturbed that they were delayed a few minutes for the funeral. No, this is a village scene, people are on foot, following the widowed mother who is following the professional mourners with their cymbals, flutes and high-pitched shrieking and wailing.
It is a Palestinian village scene in Nain, just a short distance from Nazareth (Jesus' hometown), and a day's walk from Capernaum (Jesus' new, adopted town). The pallbearers are carrying the body of a young man in a long wicker basket covered by a shroud for burial outside the city.
For modern, indifferent eyes and blasé people, the scene was dramatic enough by itself. [Think of it: the dead man was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.] The pathos and sorrow of the ages is contained in that statement. In a patriarchal society orphans, such as this young man, and widows, like his mother, were regarded as vulnerable, weak and without much opportunity for economic support. Nonetheless, a great crowd followed the procession, indicating sympathy and support at least for the time being.
That's drama enough, a large crowd of caring people, but now there is more. Jesus approaches, apparently coming from Capernaum where he just healed the Roman Centurion's slave. We've all passed a funeral on the road, a hearse followed by a long line of cars all burning their headlights in broad daylight. Most of us show our respects to the deceased and to the surviving family by pulling off the road and stopping. Usually, we don't know the people involved, and we continue on our way as soon as they are past. [But Jesus, as it were, flipped on his own lights, turned his car around, and joined the procession to the gravesite.] (2)
He saw the widowed, desolate mother, had compassion for her, thinking perhaps of his own mother probably widowed at an early age.
"Do not weep," he told her. Her tears for her son were no doubt intermingling with the endless tears still being shed for her husband. Then, adding to the continuing drama and risking ceremonial impurity, going against all the rules of conduct, Jesus reached out, touched the bier and possibly the body, and the procession halted.
Jesus was not a professional mourner who was paid to cry for the widow and lead the funeral procession. He was not a member of the crowd fulfilling a noble custom. Rather, he was an innocent bystander passing through this village who allowed himself to be touched to the core of his being.
Now, it was not just the human side of Jesus that felt this compassion, but his divine side also. Throughout the scriptures we are told over and over again that God feels our joy and our pain. Our God is not some unmoved mover who cannot be touched by our sorrow as the Greek philosopher Aristotle taught and as those who have reduced God to a lifeless principle or to a an abstract and impersonal pure being or life-energy or life-force. Rather, our God is a God who is intimately involved with us and who even cries with us. Part of the mission of Jesus was to show us this compassionate, feeling side of the God that he dared to call "Daddy."
A few years ago, Rev. William Sloan Coffin's twenty-four- year-old son Alex died in an automobile accident. It was a stormy night. Alex lost control of the car, and it sank into the Boston Harbor. The next Sunday Rev. Coffin preached a sermon in which he described his grief and God's:
Sloan said, ["The one thing that should never be said when someone dies is, 'It is the will of God.' Never do we know enough to say that.] My consolation lies in knowing that it was not the will of God that Alex died; that when the waves closed over the sinking car, God's was the first of all our hearts to break."
[This image of God's heart being the first to break is the best description I have heard of God's compassion for us.] It is the best answer I have heard to the question of where is our loving God in the midst of tragedy.
We have all had our times when tragedy came near. Perhaps, it was the loss of a child, another miscarriage, the loss of a parent, a spouse, a brother or sister, a close friend. But sometimes, our hearts cannot get past the why. Parents are not supposed to outlive their children, and yet, some of us do.
We have prayed hard and long, and we have asked others to join with us and pray too. Why is it that sometimes, people get better and, sometimes, they get worse and die? As a person who lives by faith, I find that I have to live with a lot of questions. I don't have all the answers to why bad things happen to good people, but I do know about God's power to resurrect. In the story from Luke Jesus uses this power to raise the widow's son from death. Yet, the power of God's resurrection is far greater than the power of God to give our loved ones life after death. [The power of God's resurrection spills over into this life so that we who are the survivors of these tragedies can live with our sorrow and can overcome the deadly despair.] The power of God's resurrection is the power God gives to us slowly but surely, to pick up the pieces, wrap up our wounds, and create a new life for ourselves.
When I look at this story reported by Luke, when I get past the drama, when I get past my own questions and pain of wanting the miracles I have prayed for, there is still a very strong and powerful message for all of us. For this hurting, grieving widow and destitute mother, Jesus acted with great compassion.
Where the tears had been flowing, they now held back the tears, not in a negative way as in suppressing them , they were held back because something good and positive had taken their place. [Even when we must experience the loss of a loved one, death is not extinguishing the light from the Christian, it is putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.] Douglas Malloch said, "Ah, that's the reason a bird can sing. On his darkest day he believes in Spring." (3) God is with us in our grief, and He gives us the deep assurances of His presence and the profound experiences of His life in us that helps us to go on, to give ourselves again to living and to new experiences. The way to hold back the tears is to affirm all of life on earth and in heaven. Amen.
Century Christian Church, June 10, 2007 - Sermon by Jim Westmoreland
www.centurychristian.org
1. Dr. Kim Buchanan, "From Procession to Party," pastor of Pilgrimage United Church of Christ in
Marietta, GA.
2. Adapted from Donald T. Williams, "The Widow's Son of Nain," found at esermons.com illustrations for
6-10-07.
3. Douglas Malloch, "You Have to Believe, esermons.com illustrations for 6-10-07.