The Meek

The Meek

A sermon based on Luke 7: 11-17

If you aren’t outraged, you aren’t paying attention.

It’s a popular bumper sticker here in liberal Northwest Philadelphia.  If you aren’t outraged, you aren’t paying attention.  It’s so true.  But here’s something the bumper sticker doesn’t say–if you are paying attention, it’s pretty easy to feel like the life is being sucked right out of you. The news we hear is sad and overwhelming.  All that information overload can lead to call despair, or apathy, or compassion fatigue.

I’ve been suffering from a good dose of despair, apathy, and  compassion fatigue lately.  I can’t bear to look at my twitter or facebook feeds to see what the state and city aren’t doing about the educational crisis.  It just breaks my heart to know.

My heart breaks to see what’s happening in public education in Philadelphia, to hear the children in this church and in this city express anxiety about their school’s prospects next year.

You’ve probably heard me talk about this before.  I know–I’m a broken record.  I own it.  I’m tired of talking about the schools too.  But it angers me that something so basic is at risk.

I’m outraged, I’m paying attention.  And I’m despairing.

We meet Jesus today as he is about to enter the town of Nain.  And as he approached the town, he saw a funeral in progress.  A widow was burying her only son.  Funeral’s are sad, but just the visual of this funeral creates an image of an unjust situation.  This woman, who’s husband was dead, now buried her only child–a son.  Which means she was destitute.  This might as well be her funeral too. This was the end for her.

Jesus saw this scene, and was filled with compassion.  The inclusive text in the bulletin says that Jesus was filled with pity, but that’s not quite the right word.  Jesus was full of compassion.  And that compassion moved him to respond.

Jesus entered the funeral procession–and touched the body of the dead son.  He touched the son’s body, looked at the widow, and said, “Don’t cry.”

Jesus can get away with this momentary lapse in social propriety–the whole touching the body thing, and then telling the woman not to cry–he can tell her this because of what he did next.

He spoke to the corpse of the dead son and told the son to get up–and the son got up.  The dead youth sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him back to his mother.

Jesus did more here than give this woman her child back.  He gave her hope and justice and a way to stay alive.

This story comes just a few chapters after Jesus declared his ministry in the temple.  Jesus said in the temple,

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me,

   because he has anointed me

   to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners

   and recovery of sight for the blind,

to set the oppressed free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

And since Jesus’ declaration in the temple, he had been doing that very thing–proclaiming good news, freeing prisoners, healing the sick, setting the oppressed free, and declaring jubilee.

This act of healing at Nain was an act of physical healing for the song, but it was not a healing directed toward the son.  Jesus had compassion on the widow, and his compassion moved him to heal the son.  THis healing would in fact ensure that she was treated justly and fairly by family who loved her and were committed to looking after her.

I’m drawn to the compassion of Jesus here, for his willingness to enter into her story unsolitited, and change it without any faith on her part, or without her even asking her permission.

And while I’m drawn to this story, I’m also rather mortified by it.  Jesus entered right into the drama of a very personal funeral.  He walked right into the middle of the processional, and stopped it.  Where does that drive to enter into people’s most painful moments come from?  How did Jesus do this?  How did he continue to engage people in their pain, even if their pain and injury would never have any direct impact on his life?

I heard a definition of the work “meek” this week has informed the way that I’ve read this text. In the greek, meek means, “rage and control combined with love and compassion.”  It’s a crazy combination of concepts wrapped up in one word.  We think of meek as a passive attribute–meek means weak.  But, when you think of meek, think of Jesus and the money changers.  Jesus used his anger with control, and overturned the money tables out of love and compassion for the people who experienced the injustice of the temple sacrifice system.  Jesus in the temple was meek.

Jesus in this story of the widow and her son was also exemplifying this idea of meekness.  Jesus was moved by compassion towards this woman, but within this compassion, I believe there was anger too.  Anger at the unjust system that would allow a widow with no children to die alone.  Jesus’ compassion and anger moved him to boldy insert himself into this woman’s life, and change her life for the better.

This story is a story about Jesus.  But it’s a discipleship story for us too.  We are called to enter into people’s lives and stories, and be present with them, be angry with them, to show compassion to them.  But we don’t enter their stories because it is like our story, or because our lives will benefit from entering in.  We simplyenter into people’s stories.  We balance our love and compassion for our neighbors in need with our anger at the injustice of their situation.

This story has me wondering about my own response to the school district’s plight, or to other social justice concerns that anger me.  Where does my motivation to engage them come from?  I must admit that often it comes from my own self interest.  I’m worried about the School District because my kids are part of the district, and I want them to stay there.  I worried about immigration because I have friends that are not safe without changes in the law.  I worry about gun violence because it’s getting a little close to my own home, and I want to keep my own walls and borders safe.  But Jesus healed this woman without knowing even her name and without benefiting from the healing.

Jesus chose to become part of the scene and to offer healing–to fulfill his mission, that which he proclaimed in the temple just a few chapters before.

Jesus the meek one, calls us to feel the anger of the injustice around us, and to respond with love and compassion.  THis meek response is active, and hopeful.  It doesn’t seem to give up.

If you aren’t outraged, you aren’t paying attention.  I think we’re all pretty good at the outrage.  It’s what comes next that’s more difficult.  And our story today reminds us that love and compassion, mixed with our righteous anger and control is what is needed.

I don’t know how to keep those things in balance.  I don’t know how to keep myself from slipping into apathy, or despair.  But I do know that balance is needed.  Hope is needed.  Jesus, who barged into a funeral processional to heal a dead man for a destitute widow, heals us, and calls us to that same outrageously meek behavior.  Outrage at injustice, balanced with love and compassion.

AMEN.