To listen to the sermon click the picture
The Rev. Jessica E. Sexton
June 5, 2016
A couple weeks
ago I was asked why I was a Christian. I was initially overwhelmed because there
are many reasons why I am Christian, and I found myself trying to attempt to
perfectly articulate the most compelling answer. As I think back to my
conversation with my friend I wish I had given a more simple reply. I wish I
had remembered the grieving mom in Luke.
The Gospel
reading this week could get lost in the plethora of healing stories and in the
uniqueness of Jesus’ Galilean ministry in Luke’s Gospel. It could be considered
a simple story that is not complicated or complex but just another one of
Jesus’ many miracles. Yet this pericope that is only found in Luke’s Gospel
provides us with a foundation of why and how we should be Christians. It’s not
just because Jesus raised the woman’s son from the dead or saved her from
social and financial ruin but because Jesus had compassion for her. He not only
saw her anguish but he felt it. I am a Christian because Christ’s compassion is transformative—for the life of the
woman, her son, and also for us.
Jesus had been
traveling from Capernaum, which was about 20 miles to the town of Nain where he
and his followers eventually stopped. We can assume that they must have been
exhausted and hungry after such a long journey. But before Jesus even steps
through the gate of this town for rest he witnesses a funeral procession. He
sees the widowed mother surrounded by many people from the town crying and
grieving over the loss of her son.
There are many
different translations of what happens next. Some scholars have translated the
Greek to say that Jesus pitied the woman but most have translated the text as
Jesus feeling compassion for her. Aristotle defined pity
as one who has experienced the pain of the sufferer but distances himself or
herself from that person. Pity involves sympathy but separation. You feel sad
for someone’s pain but you don’t engage it.
Compassion is
completely different. Compassion is whether or not you have experienced the
pain of the sufferer, your sympathy calls you to action. And by action—we feel
compelled to care and serve those who are hurting. When we are compassionate we
desire not to be separated from those in pain but engaged in their care.
For Jesus his
compassion for this woman begins with his recognition that all has been lost
for her—her husband, son and most likely her future. During that time a woman’s
social and financial well-being was dependent upon the men in her family.
Without any men to provide food and shelter the grieving mother is also at risk
of dying.
Therefore, this
scene that Jesus and followers come upon is not just one funeral procession but
two—the son and his mother. Although she is not dead, the probability of her
living long without her family is small. The crowd that is surrounding her as
she leaves the city to bury her son provides a haunting image that they are
leading her to her own death.
Jesus knows all
of this. He knows what will happen to her in his society. He knows the future
that she will have being a widow with no male children. Jesus may not have
experienced the same suffering as this woman by being neither a spouse nor a
parent but he is a son. He has a relationship with his own mother. And he sees
the love this woman had for her child that is the same love Mary had for him.
Jesus doesn’t
pity her. If he did he would have been respectful as the procession passed by
and then been on his way. Jesus has sympathy for this woman because it could
and will be his mother standing by his body with tears running down her face.
Jesus doesn’t waste time for pity but quickly attempts to comfort her and then
raises her son from the dead.
Luke shows us
that Christ’s power is not limited to just healing the sick but resurrection. What
moved me in this Gospel was that his miracle wasn’t to show his power but to
give it. By giving her son new life he gave her back her life and the power in
her identity as a mother. His compassion transforms her wellbeing in this
world. It’s not the miracle itself but
why he performed the miracle in the first place.
When has someone
shown you sympathy and compassion? My most memorable experience was quite
recent. This past Halloween I made a big mistake. I went hiking at Gunpowder
State Park in Kingsville wearing the wrong shoes. And because I was not wearing
appropriate hiking shoes I slipped on a rock while crossing a stream and fell
into the water—breaking my leg. Not my finest moment. While at Virginia
Theological Seminary a week later in a non-weight bearing caste and on crutches
I found myself ironically at the healing service for Thursday Chapel. I
crutched my way up to the alter to receive a prayer for healing and a blessing,
and after the visiting priest was done with his prayer he leans over and
whispers in my ear, “wouldn’t it be awesome if you could just drop your
crutches and walk back to your seat? It would be a miracle!” He’s laughing and
I’m awkwardly smiling because I’m in so much pain. To be honest, my prayer was
for a miracle that I could just get up and walk, and my stupid decision to
wear fashion boots on a short stroll through the woods could be taken back.
What I didn’t
get then that I do now is that a miracle did happen. I was healed because of
the compassion and kindness of others—my family and my peers. Prior to my fall,
my first couple months at Virginia Theological were so hectic balancing school,
family and church that I found myself not meeting many people on campus. I
had vowed during my fall break that I needed to work on that for the rest of
the semester. Who would have thought it would take breaking my leg and being
pretty much helpless to meet people? Yet I got to experience amazing
compassion, kindness and generosity from my classmates to students I didn’t
know asking if I needed help or make me lunch or bring me coffee.
I was not healed
by a spontaneous miracle, but I was healed slowly by the genuine care of others
who by their help I was able to have a smooth recovery.
Therefore, I am
a Christian because our God is a compassionate God that does not allow us to
believe we are alone in our suffering. We may not have the power of physical
resurrection like Christ, but we do have the power through our ability to
engage the suffering of others to bring new life to be part of the healing this
world needs. Through our kindness and love we have the opportunity to be part
of transforming the lives of others just like Jesus.
It is a blessing
for me to become a part of your community here at Good Shepherd that is already
doing this transformational work. The love and compassion you have to serve
others is what I look forward to being a part of. When learning about this
church it was wonderful to discover the many ministries, committees and church
groups you have here to care for this community and this city of Baltimore. It is a gift for me to
come into a community that is actively serving others with compassionate hearts
to transform and heal the brokenness of the world. I look forward to partnering
with Arianne to be involved with the wonderful ministries she and all of you
are engaged in here. As we do ministry together may we always be focused on
compassion and not pity as we do God’s work to show Christ’s love in the world.
Amen.
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