Soon afterwards, Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went along with him. As he approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out—the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. And a large crowd from the town was with her. When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, “Don’t cry.”
Then he went up and touched the bier they were
carrying him on, and the bearers stood still. He said, “Young man, I say
to you, get up!” The dead man sat up and began to talk, and
Jesus gave him back to his mother.
They were all filled with awe and praised
God. “A great prophet has appeared among us,” they said. “God has
come to help his people.” This news about Jesus spread throughout Judea
and the surrounding country. Luke 7:11-17
What a truly wonderful story this is!
When the Russian writer Leo Tolstoy wrote his most famous
book War and Peace it took him well over half a million words. Here Luke
tells the story of the widow of Nain’s son in little more than one hundred.
So? Well, it’s of no real significance, of course; I’m sure
there’s a place for big long books. But it reminds us that words used very
economically can muster a real, even life-changing, power. I read War and
Peace many, many years ago – and I remember very little about it. But this
little story has stayed with me all my adult life and made an impact on me and
the kind of person I aim to be.
Jesus and his disciples are heading for a small town called
Nain, probably the place known today as Nein, just a few miles from Nazareth.
He seems to have picked up “a large crowd” along the way, only to find that
they are on a collision course with another crowd coming out of the town gate
and heading for the near-by burial ground. It seems that the whole town is
turning out to offer support to a woman who, having already suffered the sorrow
of losing her husband, is now having to come to terms with the death of her
only son.
Jesus and his followers, it seems, “yield right of way”, no
doubt out of respect. But Jesus finds it impossible to remain simply a
spectator: “he went up and touched the bier (the open coffin)… and said ‘Young
man, I tell you, get up!’” And that is exactly what he did – “and began to
talk”. I wonder what he said? I like to imagine something like, “Hallo, Mum!
What’s going on? Who are all these people, and why are they all crying? And who
is this man who’s just woken me up? I was having a wonderful dream…!” But Luke
doesn’t see fit to tell us.
Jesus, we’re told, “gave him back to his mother”, just like
Elijah with the widow of Zarephath (1 Kings 17:23), and the crowd declare that
another “great prophet” has appeared among them. What a day! What an event!
What makes this little story so irresistibly attractive?
Here are three things that occur to me…
First, it’s all so low-key.
A momentous miracle is done, but there is no blaring of
trumpets or parading of power on Jesus’ part. I suspect that when he set out
that morning with his disciples he had no idea that such a thing was going to
happen; perhaps he had never preached at Nain before, and simply decided that
it was time he did.
But once the set of circumstances had arisen he responded
in a spontaneous, indeed an almost matter-of-fact way, and his heavenly Father
used him.
Is there a word for us there? When a new day begins the
prospect may look pretty ordinary, perhaps quite drab and even unwelcoming,
just something to be got through. Perhaps we need to summon the simple faith to
believe that, so to speak, God can turn our dull grey to beautiful colour – as
long as we are then alert to fresh possibilities as the day unfolds. Who knows
what God might have up his sleeve?
Second, it’s all about compassion.
Certainly, this is an incident when the sheer power of
Jesus is displayed; but Luke’s emphasis seems to fall more on his overflowing
compassion. He tells us that when Jesus saw the widow “his heart went out to
her”, using a word which suggests a wrenching of his gut, a powerful moving of
his inmost being. Jesus could be a deeply emotional man; we must never forget
that on occasions he “wept”.
A song that has become a favourite of mine in recent years
is “Soften my heart, Lord, soften my heart…” by Graham Kendrick. If you don’t
know it, and especially if you feel your heart to be a little cold and unfeeling,
I recommend that you turn it into a personal prayer. In it we pray to “feel
Christ’s compassion” – and is there anything greater than that that we can pray
for?
Third, it shows Jesus focussed on what really mattered.
Why does Luke bother to tell us that Jesus “touched the
bier”? Answer: presumably because, strictly speaking, that was something he
shouldn’t have done as an obedient Jew. Contact with the dead would render a
person ceremonially “unclean” (see, for example, Numbers 19). Certainly, an
unclean person could be cleansed by obeying certain rituals laid down by the
priest; but it was something to avoid if at all possible. I can’t help
wondering if a suppressed gasp of shock went up from the crowd that day in Nain
when Jesus touched the bier.
By taking this action Jesus made the point that the priest
and the Levite in the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) failed to
recognise: fearful of becoming unclean they “passed by on the other side” when
they saw what they took to be a corpse. But Jesus, through the example of the
Samaritan, makes clear that the claims of compassion take precedence over any
kind of legalistic requirements.
Is this a reminder for some of us? Have we
turned our loyalty to Jesus into an essentially rules-based religion? If so, have
we lost our true focus? Is it time for some serious self-examination?
I think there is more to be gleaned from this story, but I have run out of space. Pease join me again next time.
Soften my heart, Lord, /Soften my heart. /From all indifference, set me apart; /To feel your compassion, to weep with your tears./Come, soften my heart, Lord,/ Soften my heart. Amen.
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