Crashing the Wake--May 11, 2020

Crashing the Wake--May 11, 2020

"[Jesus] went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went with him. As he approached the gate of the town, a man who had died was being carried out. He was his mother's only son, and she was a widow; and with her was a large crowd from the town. When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, 'Do not weep.' Then he came forward and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, 'Young man, I say to you, rise!' The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized all of them; and they glorified God, saying, 'A great prophet has risen among us!' and 'God has looked favorably on his people!' This word about him spread throughout Judea and all the surrounding country." [Luke 7:11-17]

You know what really stands out to me about Jesus?  He doesn't use other people as props to show off his power, and he doesn't ignore other people around him because he is too busy for them.  He sees other people through the eyes of love, and that directs his actions.  That's actually a really big deal.

I don't know that I had noticed before the way Luke tells this story.  Preachers are used to thinking of Bible stories only in terms of plot points, and obviously this one is memorable for the big finale of raising the dead.  But notice that as Jesus approaches the funeral procession headed out of town, Luke says that Jesus "had compassion" for the young man's mother, and that's what leads him to raise the dead man back to life.  What drives this miracle is love--not somebody's need for spectacle or attention or ego-stroking.  That means Jesus didn't set out to "wow" people with a publicity stunt that day, and it doesn't sound like Jesus was planning on crashing a wake when he woke up that morning.  No, rather, Jesus simply enters every situation he is in with the eyes of mercy, and because of that, his attention is on anyone and everyone who hurts, and from there how he can be a part of the work of bringing life where it is needful.

That is to say, Jesus is constantly reading every situation he is in for the needs of others, and that makes it possible for him to respond out of the resources he has at his disposal.  He isn't so focused on his busy-ness that he misses seeing the needs of others as he zooms right on by them. Nor does Jesus ignore people by some kind of social conditioning to treat others as unimportant. And he doesn't have his head buried in a screen, either, so he doesn't miss what's happening around him because he's got to check how many likes he has gotten recently, either.  Instead, because he is free of distractions and blinders, he can see the needs, the pain, and the suffering of others, and he can respond to it.  Jesus is able to do what he does, at least in part, because when he comes up to a funeral procession, his first thought is, "Oh, dear, that young man's mother must be heartbroken!" rather than, "Ugh, now I have to wait longer at this intersection before the last car goes through."  And because he sees the world differently--that is, through the eyes of compassion--he is ready to bring life to those who need it.

This is something that you and I can practice.  We may not have the divine power of Jesus to work miracles or start a heart beating again, but we can do something about our eyesight.  We can gain the skill like Jesus has of seeing the hurts and heartaches of others rather than missing them, or ignoring them, or turning them into props for our own advancement.  We can internalize the habit of entering a situation with the thought, "What might my neighbor need in this moment, and how can I be a presence of goodness for them?" rather than scanning the moment for how I can get ahead, or just missing out on others around me altogether.  And from there, the more we are attuned to compassion in each moment, then we will be able to offer what we do have--time, resources, ability--regardless of whether it is a miraculous resuscitation like Jesus performs here, or something entirely ordinary.

Jesus is, in a sense, primed for bringing resurrection because he knows to be looking for those who are hurting.  That is so different from thinking, "I need to get some good publicity--how can we set up a photo op where people can catch me dishing out a bowl or soup, or where we can get a photograph of me helping at the food pantry?"  Instead of being worried about what people see of himself, Jesus is focused on seeing those that others might not see, on loving those who might otherwise fade into the background, on recognizing the signs of pain in others that could otherwise be swallowed up in the crowd.

On this day, for example, many are in the same position as this unnamed widow from Luke's story.  Some are people I know--who have just come through another Mother's Day weekend grieving the death of their own children, or who are feeling the loss of a loved one close to them at this moment.  Some are names I only know from the news--like the mother of Ahmaud Arbery, who is grieving the loss of her son, too.  And beyond that, everyone we meet is carrying some kind of hurt like an iceberg--most of it held deeper beneath the surface than they let on, and submerged from view.  Most of the time we learn just to pretend it's not there with a quick, "I'm fine, thanks," because we have been taught not to mention the pain we are bearing, much less to keep our eyes open to see the pain of others.  But just because we don't talk about it doesn't mean it's not there.

So maybe part of our calling as resurrection people is to be attentive to the wounds, to the griefs, to the heartaches, that each of us carries but which could just as easily go ignored or unnamed.  Maybe it starts just as straightforwardly as entering every situation primed with the thinking, "How are the others I am interacting with doing right now--how are their hearts, and how can I be useful to them?"  Maybe that posture begins to change how all the other actions in our day go, because it keeps each of us from getting bent in on themselves and focused only on our own list for the day.  Maybe it grows the seed of empathy in us. And then, when we choose to face the day with our eyes open like Jesus, to see others through the lens of compassion, we will take those opportunities to bring life to those around us who need it.

And who knows--even if a miracle doesn't happen, your choice to act with compassion still just might bring someone else to life anyhow.  Maybe it will be you.

Lord Jesus, help us to see our lives and our world with your kind of empathy, so that we will be ready to respond to every situation in ways that let your resurrection life flow among us and in us and through us... for all.