Restore all people

1 Kings 17:17-24, Psalm 2:30

Galatisn 1:11-24, Luke 7:11-17

The Church is called to be a healer, a restorer of relationships. In the Book of Common Prayer, the Church’s mission is “to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.” The Church does this by refusing to draw boundaries, by refusing to exclude people from the fullness of life that God promises.

A widow walks a dusty road through the simple, peasant town of Nain. The low lying sun is already making shadows on the mud-brick walls. It’s probably a stunning view across the wide valley but the widow wouldn’t notice. She is preoccupied. Her life has ended today. She has lost her connection to society. She will be a “non-person” after the pity of the town wears off.

Today, the widow is walking behind the men carrying her dead son. Wrapped in simple bands of cloth, his body is borne on a litter. The shock is almost too much to bear as she remembers this path from another funeral procession. That time, she followed another man, her husband, also wrapped in the burial clothes and on a litter. She remembers following the burial of her dead husband and the pain it brought. Then, at least, she could lean on her son but now he is gone, too. The pain this time is different, though, for now she is also grieving the loss of her own self, fearing the loss of her identity.

Nain was a small town, a village really, so the crowd that looked on knew the widow well. They were perhaps some were friends with her son. They would have been sad, shown pity, and had concern. No doubt, a large part of the concern would be for the widow’s future, the loss of her social identity and any connection to power that she might have had.

To be a widow in first century Palestine was to have no power, very little connection, and low (if any) social standing. It was a world run by men where a woman’s connection and standing was determined by the men in her life. Women could only be represented legally by men and defended socially by men. There was little defense for women against attacks on property – by thieves, creditors, or landowners – unless a male relative came to her aid. The law gave some vague protections, the scriptures mandating special care given to widows, with care that not be exploited. But even among the ardently religious such laws were no guarantee of a woman’s safety in this male dominated world. The widow at Nain, then, faces a real danger since she no longer has a husband and she no longer has a son. And if she had moved away from her kin, she is now totally alone. So each step that she takes is heavy with grief and heavy with fear, as she walks into an unknown future.

The passage from Luke’s gospel today is the story about a dead man coming to life. It’s a dramatic story. Picture a funeral procession in which the dead man sits up. This would, no doubt, shock the entire procession much less those looking on. And then the man begins to speak. It is no wonder that the crowd is filled with fear. It seems a reasonable response at the sight of a dead man sitting up on his funeral bier and talking. It is hard to ignore the resurrection at the center of this tale. It is a vision of the glory of God. It is a vision of God’s triumph over death.

But, as hard as it might seem to imagine, the glory of God that was revealed that day at Nain was even bigger than the resurrection of the dead man. The bringing back to life of the son was only part of the story because Jesus also brought the widow back from death into life. The story itself begins with the widow so we know she’s important. Jesus has compassion on her, telling her, “Do not weep.” Then, after the man comes back to life, he gives him back to his mother. So Jesus not only brings the son back to life, he also brings the widow back to life. Jesus heals the widow, a woman broken by a society that could not see her fully without a man.

Maybe the crowd was more afraid of this than anything else. Jesus had just upset their social order and this would not be the only time he does. This woman who lost her status – who lost her connection – who didn’t matter, suddenly mattered again.

The crowd would have recognized what had happened. They were in the presence of a prophet. They recognized the story: God sent the prophet Elijah to bring hope to a widow in Zarepath. At the brink of death, she was brought back to life by a jar of meal and a jug of oil that never ran out. And her son, too, was brought back to life by prophetic words. It seems that looking after the ones that society has left behind is what God does. It seems that there are no edges, no boundaries to the scope of God’s care. God’s love has no limits.

We still live in a world of social divisions, a society that seems to invent new ways to separate itself every day: by religion and language, by ethnicity and nationality, by orientation, age, ability, and wealth, even by the kind of music we like, and, yes, still by gender.

But amid all this division, God still offers life. And it’s not just biological life that God offers. God offers full life, a life of wholeness where our divisions are healed. Such is the action that Jesus undertook at Nain, that by restoring biological life he brings a full life to be had by all.

This is the reign of God – a reign of well-being, justice, abundance, and joyous harmony – a reign where we recognize that the fullness of God’s presence encompasses all of creation. God’s presence has no social boundaries. God presence has no limits. God’s love and presence is about restoring the social community, bringing people we push out back in.

And this should be our action, as well. The Church is called to be a healer, a restorer of relationships. In the Book of Common Prayer, the Church’s mission is “to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.” The Church does this by refusing to draw boundaries, by refusing to exclude people from the fullness of life that God promises. We do it when we welcome all people into our life. We do it when we work to ensure that all are fed, and clothed, and housed, and cared for when sick. We do it when we work to transform unjust social systems. We do it when we fix structures and practices that treat anyone as undeserving of a full life.

This is our baptismal call. Baptism is a vocation which must be lived out and lived into. The Christian life is nothing else than daily baptism, once begun and ever continued, incessantly kept after.Speaking of baptism, we have one today. Henry Alexander will be baptized into such a mission and, I am sure, will live it out fully. Let me, if you will, say a few words of advice to Henry.

First, be who God created you to be. The narrative of creation in Genesis 1 was likely written during the Babylonian exile, when the Hebrew people were brought away from their home and kept captive in a foreign land. It was a dark time for the nation of Israel. So, I imagine when they told themselves the story of creation it filled them with light and hope. It was an assurance in the creative power of God who said, “Let there be light!” and there was light! And God saw that the light was good.

There is a prevailing teaching in Western Christianity, since the reformation really, that we (all of us) are born utterly depraved and sinful. But honestly, Henry, looking at you today in your first year of life, it is a challenge for me to believe that. No doubt you’ve given your parents a run for their money and there’s more of that to come.

On the other hand, I have the tendency to align more closely with Eastern fathers and with the mystics of Celtic Christians in espousing that our nature is born in the image of God. So know this, even now, before these waters of baptism wash over you, you are a blessing to this life, to this world, and to all of creation – for you are made in the image of God.

All that to say, be who God created you to be. There’s no point in pretending to be someone you’re not. Pretending before other people will destroy you from the inside. Pretending before God is pointless. Accept the person God has made you, and seek to be the best possible version of yourself.

Second, wrestle with doubt. Belonging to God’s family doesn’t mean you always live at home. Belief is not always easy. You will hear plenty of voices which tell you there’s nothing more to life than what you can see. Other voices will tell you they’ve found a better way. You will hear your own voice of doubt and your faith will waver. Wrestle with that doubt. Take that doubt to God. Take that doubt to your parents. Take that doubt to the Church. Take that doubt to the world. Your faith, your life will be stronger—not weaker—after building muscles on these times of doubt.

Third, be patient with your elders but don not be afraid to pester us. Challenge our answers with your questions, our laziness with your energy, our cynicism with your idealism, our hypocrisy with your candor, and our fears with your resolve. George Bernard Shaw once quipped, “It’s all the young can do for the old, to shock them and keep them up to date.” To which I say, “Amen!”, for turning people inside-out and upside-down is the will of God. And Jesus himself said, not that children must grow up, but that adults must grow down, and re-discover the child within them.

Finally, be tough-minded, but be careful not to become hard-hearted. And perhaps most important of all, make sure you keep your sense of humor and laugh a lot, lest you take yourself too seriously and become an old sourpuss! Your baptism proclaims your redemption - so act redeemed, and look redeemed too. Let your face express what your heart knows - and so bear your witness.

Let’s have a baptism.