Morsel
1 Kings 17:8-24; Luke 7:11-17

June 10, 2007


With a title like “morsel” I bet you think that like a lot of things in the church, this sermon will end up talking about food. You’re wrong - or maybe I’ll be wrong. We’ll see by the final Amen.

Oh sure, it is one of the more intriguing stories in the Old Testament, how the great man of God seeks sanctuary in a Gentile pagan town from a poor widow and her son during a drought and famine he has initiated at God’s command. Hospitality is a very important obligation upon people in Middle Eastern societies even if it kills you, and if we believe the widow of Zarephath it almost does.

Elijah requests a sip of water and a morsel of bread, but she has barely enough to eat her last meal with her son and die, a very effective dramatic touch. Largely because she has only a morsel left, however much or little that meant, she demonstrates a gritty intuition in acquiescence to his request. Others would call it faith. Elijah promises what God promises: the half-empty jar of meal for the bread will remain half-full until God sends rain again. The food is provided for, a foretaste of Jesus’ feeding of the five thousand.

Our scene must shift to another boundary area, the village of Nain in the south of Galilee, a Gentile village. Jesus is on the move from Capernaum where he has just healed the centurion’s servant and as a consequence a large group of followers is on the move with him. A great crowd, Luke writes. Not quite into the city yet, but near the gate and entrance the Jesus company cross paths with another procession, alas, a funeral. Every word counts here.

A man who had died was being carried out. No one was carried around in these environs unless you were royalty or you were dead. Royalty did not make regular visits to the Hotel Saskatchewan, so Luke wanted us to know that he was dead in the past tense. People back then who have died are no longer living. I think that still applies to today. Moreover, he was the only son of his mother who was a widow. Death grabs hold of us with many grips.

This was no liberated society, so a woman needed a male to protect and provide for her. Her husband had died and her son had apparently picked up the slack. Disease was brutal and unpredictable and antibiotics were beyond imagination, so young as he had been, he was no match for death. Was this burial procession simply a prelude to her own procession out the gate?

And a large crowd from the city was with her. They knew what this all meant. We hide from death today, but death does not like to hide from us. But now outside the gate of the city of Nain are two large crowds converging with Jesus and the bier of a dead young man at their centre - one crowd full of life, another crowd overfull with death. Laughing and singing on one side, wailing and dirges on the other, bewilderment when they meet and mingle.

Jesus looked at the widow and mother and he knew. His heart heavy and full of compassion, he kept looking at her and said, “Do not weep.” At our funerals we have probably heard a minister or priest say exactly that, “Do not weep. This person is headed for something better, do not feel distraught for them.” Yet then, how can you say to the bereaved mother, “Do not weep,” when everyone around you is weeping and wailing? We’ve seen how people behave at the death of loved ones in Iraq and Lebanon and other Near Eastern countries on countless TV news programs. There is nothing stoic about these mourners, nothing reserved and contemplative. They aren’t just coming in as a group and sitting down in the first pew and not singing during the hymns to show that they are mourners. They were crying out as loud as they could, collapsing on to the ground, others literally having to drag them limply away, so overcome with grief they had become. And Jesus said, “Do not weep!” What’s that supposed to mean in the midst of all this calamity? Did anyone even hear him?

He came forward and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still, shocked. A rabbi does not touch anything dead for it would render him unclean. You and I laugh at that idea because our society seldom buys into those categories of pure and unclean any more. However, to be unclean meant that you were no longer in a satisfactory relationship with God, and that meant anything you might try to do would be ineffective and worse could be detrimental to yourself and to those you attempted to assist precisely because you were out of synch with the Creator of the Universe. Jesus came forward and touched the bier carrying the dead man. Do not try this at home!

And he said..., “Young man, I say to you, arise!” You are still a young man because you are alive! I am speaking to you because you are alive. Now finish it off and resurrect yourself. The dead man sat up - how can a dead man sit up except in the zombie movies? - and began to speak. In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God. When you speak, speak a language, you are alive as no other creature can be. And Jesus restored him to his mother. She has been raised from the dead as well.

The rest of the story is anti-climax. Everybody is struck with shock and awe and that Biblical quality of fear. “A great prophet has arisen among us. God has visited his people!” Nobody could keep this quiet; news of the resurrection of this young man spread like wildfire throughout the region.

More than a few people reading this have pointed out the fact that while Jesus brought a dead man back to life, it was only one. Many other people died that year in Nain and none were resurrected. Elijah would give life back to the son of the widow of Zarephath - with great effort, it might be added - but there were widows and sons in that drought and famine ravaged region who did eat their last morsel and die.

Mythology and ideology galore have perpetuated the idea that if you have real authentic faith - the pitiful size of a mustard seed no less - then like Jesus you can cure the cancer, unclog the blocked arteries, exorcise the mental illnesses, move a mountain or two, eradicate poverty, eliminate injustice and prejudice, bring to a halt all wars, and while you’re at it become successful and famous and live in a nice house in the best neighbourhood. Preachers want you to believe that unless you are like Jesus, then you are unlike Jesus, his opposite, a breeding ground for the prince of darkness and death. Too bad they don’t read the Bible.

The thing is - Jesus only healed one person here, one person there, giving us a most powerful glimpse and foretaste like that tasty morsel in the midst of famine of what the kingdom of heaven will be like. Some will say in the church and certainly outside the church, So What? So what does it matter if it doesn’t make me successful or heal me or liberate me from my oppressors? Well, when Jesus walked into a funeral procession, he did not hesitate to come forward, touch the unclean bier with its dangerously unclean body. He did not consider quickly in his mind a feasibility and sustainability study of resurrecting this man as opposed to a number of other likely candidates and what would be the political impact and fallout. He told him to get up and we can see the kingdom.

You want to be like Jesus? When go out one of our doors maybe you will run into someone who needs help. You probably won’t be able to cure her or free him from all his addictions and problems, and you may not be able to do much about how he and she has been treated cruelly and unjustly, but you can tell them they matter and they may feel the love with which Jesus loved pulsating through your words and eye contact and touch, and hey, there is the kingdom of heaven alive in our midst, if only for a moment. The whole world’s problems are not solved, merely a morsel, but now we see the way, when you act like Jesus.

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan