Dr. J. Lawrence Cuthill

June 6, 2010

Winter Park Presbyterian Church

In our Old and New Testament readings, two stories with distinct similarities are paired together intentionally. Both are given to reveal the power of God to overcome the power of death. Both involve a widow who is in danger of losing an only son; one already has, as a matter of fact. Not only does losing a child rank at the top of the scale of traumatic events, in the ancient Middle East, widows were often consigned by their status to poverty. This would have been exacerbated if a widow’s only son were to die. Compounded grief. Compounded hardship.

The two stories also carry a message. They are a part of the revelation of two figures as prophets, one of whom is actually more than a prophet.

Let’s revisit the stories briefly and then ask what significance they might have in our modern world where death and the fear thereof is avoided or denied.

In the Old Testament passage, Elijah has stepped on the toes of the egotistical King Ahab. It is dangerous business to call into question the behavior of a monarch, especially a maniacal monarch. In the balance of power, Ahab has it all and Elijah none … or so it seems at first. Elijah flees and, as a refugee, is given the guidance, sustenance and protection of God. He is instructed to go to Zaraphath, a small town on the Mediterranean Coast. There, as ordained, he meets a widow who is to feed him, only she doesn’t know it. Like company that drops in unannounced at dinner time, when Elijah asks for something to eat and drink, she is taken aback. “I’m preparing the last food we have (due to a famine) so my son and I can eat, and then be claimed by this famine as its next two victims.” But Elijah counters, “Feed me and then yourselves; your flour and oil will not be exhausted until the rain comes again…” And it was so.

Now the second and parallel story from Luke: On his way to Nain, another small village a few miles south of Nazareth, accompanied by his disciples, they meet a funeral procession for a young man – again the only son of a widow. She was surrounded by a sizable crowd who, no doubt, sympathized and wept with her at her loss. When Jesus saw her, he felt compassion and told her, “Do not weep.” That’s not good pastoral style – unless you have the wherewithal to change the situation – and he did. Jesus approached, and touching the coffin, said, “Young man, I say to you arise!” and he did.

Jesus gave him back to his mother who, with all the onlookers, was amazed and understandably fearful. But joy quickly supplanted fear, and everyone began to glorify God. News like that spread quickly throughout the land.

In both cases, the plots give us what appears to be a dead and desperate situation. In the first, tragedy is imminent; in the latter, it would appear it is too late. In the first, the hero arrives and averts a disaster by an extraordinary, miraculous act. In the second, an even greater miracle is performed in raising a man from the dead … and in both; widowed mothers are lifted from despair.

Here are two extraordinary characters who defy the power of death and dramatically exhibit divine authority, although one is clearly superior. All of which illustrates that eminent theological thesis – “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over.” That was, of course, Yogi Berra.

What’s in these stories for us?

1) Denial is, at best, a temporary coping behavior and no match for death. Our own demise is something we’d rather not think about. Morbid, some suggest. Therefore, we fight its onset; act sometimes like it doesn’t exist … even more than previous generations, but no one gets out of this life alive in the physical sense.

These two stories point us to a hope that does not originate with us. It is not wishful thinking, or the next level of denial. We are confronted with a reality more powerful than death. First through a prophet who speaks with the authority of God, and then God speaks life through His Son, who himself is raised from the dead.

Denial may in fact keep us from coming to terms with our own mortality, as well as finding a hope that extends beyond mortality. Phillip of Macedonia, Alexander the Great’s father and a great figure in his own right, appointed a member of his court to stand before him each day and say, “Remember Phillip, thou art mortal.” For Phillip, it was a humbling reminder. Each day becomes a gift to be received with gratitude and lived to its fullest. Further, one is opened to look for hope, beyond one’s own intrinsic capacity, to a greater source.

2) As people who have placed their hope in God, it follows that we are here for a reason beyond surviving as long as we can. We are people of purpose. Benjamin Disraeli said, “The secret of success is consistency of purpose.” To answer the question “why on each am I on earth?” compels us to seek that reason for being. In our own faith tradition, it is to “glorify God and enjoy God forever,” or to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength,” and “your neighbor as yourself.”

3) To come to terms with our mortality and to trust the God who created and redeems life gives us the wherewithal to persevere through life’s trials.

Eugene Peterson writes, “The mark of a certain kind of genius is the ability and energy to keep returning to the same task relentlessly, imaginatively, curiously for a lifetime.” Augustine wrote 15 commentaries on the book of Genesis … and never felt he had exhausted the origins of our existence as creatures of God. Beethoven composed 16 string quartets because he always felt there were more … and better. He kept coming back. We think he did pretty well; he believed there was more. Persevere.

4) Be patient with yourself and with others. We will get there. No one wins every time out, and only rarely hits a home run the first time. There will be some defeats, sometimes crushing. There will be some battles not worth fighting; you may lose some, and still win, for in the final analysis, it has already been won for you. You don’t have to do it all at once … or all by yourself. That means you can give it your best, knowing failure isn’t fatal, and nothing can separate you from the love of God in Jesus Christ. In that faith knowledge there is peace.

AMEN