It is hot and dry, and very dusty. We are all looking forward to arriving and having a long cold drink and something to eat. We can see our destination in the distance, a town called Nain, sitting on top of a rise of land. We'll be glad to get there, our aching legs already have to find the energy for one last push to climb that uphill stretch. Plus we have to walk past the burial caves that line the road here. It's a bit creepy and, given we're followers of the law of Moses, we're mindful of the ritual impurity of coming into contact with the dead. We spur ourselves on quickly, heading for the town gates. A crowd like this, not just the Rabbi Jesus and his disciples, but all these others followers too, are bound to cause a bit of a stir when we turn up in a little town like this.
But as we get closer, we begin to see there is already something of a commotion in the town. A crowd is coming out of the gates and heading our way. Let's hope there isn't going to be any trouble: they don't seem very happy. As they draw closer we begin to see why. This is a funeral procession, making its way to the burial caves with a body on a bier, carried by some of the men of the town.
Hopefully, Jesus will lead us on past this procession quickly and let us get the rest and refreshment we crave. Yet more people continue to pour out of the town gates. This is a particularly large funeral. Half the town's residents must be here. We can soon see why. The chief mourner is a woman, wearing the clothes of a widow. Not only has she lost her husband sometime in the past, but now her only son has died.
You always see a bigger crowd at the death of a young person, and there is nothing more against the natural order of things than a parent having to bury their child. And we understand she won't simply be grieving for her loss. This death is bad news for a widow who, without a husband, would be relying on her son to look after her in old age. She's bound to be wondering what will happen to her now. She may, like many widows, be reduced to begging if there are no other family members to depend on.
Come on Jesus, keep walking. Let's get to the inn where we can rest our tired bodies and slake our thirst. Oh typical. He just can't pass up an opportunity to get involved, can he? He's talking to the widow and comforting her. Honestly, these bleeding heart liberals just don't know when to stop, do they? The crowd is simmering down now, ever alert to the possibility that this wandering Rabbi could do something surprising. He's moved over to the corpse and is putting his hand on it now. Eugh! He'll have to purify himself now before he eats any supper.
Over the hushed murmuring of the people we can just make out what he is saying. "Young man, get up I tell you." He really doesn't know when to stop this Rabbi, does he? Talk about a messiah complex. Sure, he's healed some pretty sick people, but raising the dead to life? Come on.
And then...surely not? It's getting harder to see as the people all crane their necks for a better view, some even sitting on the shoulders of others. But just through a crack in the crowd we can see movement on the funeral bier. The young man is stirring, peeling off his burial shroud and sitting up. Now he's saying something, but we can't hear because the crowd has set up a cry, so astonished are they by what they are seeing.
Clearly this is no ordinary Rabbi, trailing from town to town with his band of grubby disciples. This, surely, is the work of God; this man a great prophet like Elijah. In fact, now we come to think of it, isn't there a story in our scriptures where Elijah brings the only son of a widow back to life? That 's an odd coincidence... This man Jesus must be as great as the greatest prophets of old, maybe even greater.
And now, years later, in our old age we often think back on the events of that remarkable day. Yes, it was an amazing thing to witness, but in the light of later events surrounding Jesus we have come to realise that this miracle is rich in deeper meaning.
Of how it has shaped the way Jesus' followers continue his ministry, by looking out for situations that seem hopeless or despairing and finding ways to bring new life to them. How his church has made it a special mission to seek out people who have nobody to look after them, and offer them care and support. Of the way that this episode perhaps makes us think about our own pain and grief, and the voice of Jesus, full of compassion, saying to us "do not weep", all the while knowing that he weeps with us. As the crowd gasped in awe at the glory of God seen in Jesus, his followers today must never stop being astonished or joyful at how great God is.
Lord of compassion and mercy,
you give back to us
what we fear is lost beyond recall:
may your word resound
to the limits of our grief
and life arise
in place of despair;
though Jesus Christ, to whom all is entrusted.
Amen.
Steven Shakespeare, Prayers for an Inclusive Church, Canterbury Press 2008
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