One of the most traumatic and painful duties I have to perform as a minister is the burial of a child. Of everything I see and do, nothing brings home to me the real horror and brokenness of a fallen world more acutely than watching parents through their child’s funeral. Throughout Scripture death is seen as a horrific intrusion into a creation called into being by the God of life. And yet, in a fallen world it remains among the most fundamental experiences of humanity. It threatens to render life ‘meaningless’ (Eccl.1:1-2), and takes the dubious honour of being ‘the last enemy to be destroyed’ by virtue of the redemptive work of Christ (I Cor.15:26). Death is never to be thought of as ‘natural’, or as simply a ‘fact of life’. Death is always tragic and catastrophic. But the death of a child is likely the most brutal expression of the spiritual calamity of our creation.
‘As He approached the town gate, a dead person was being carried out – the only son of his mother, and she was a widow’. Such deep pathos in such an economy of words. Our familiarity with the story can mean that it’s easy to miss the layers of tragedy and grief it contains. And that same can equally dull us to the extraordinary sequence of events that follows. Jesus has already demonstrated His authority over disease, restoring someone ‘about to die’ to full health (Lk.7:2). But this is a categorically different situation. This ‘only son’ has already been taken by death. Coming back from the brink is one thing... unusual perhaps, but not beyond the realms of human experience. Coming back from death itself – that’s a very different proposal! Not unprecedented, but almost. And yet Jesus’ authority extends, seemingly effortlessly, even beyond the boundaries of life. Death, at least for now, no longer has dominion over this young man.
There are rare examples in the Old Testament of similar event – notably in the ministry of Elijah (I Kings 17:17-24), and Elisha (II Kings 4:32-37). It is likely this resonance with these prophets that leads the crowd to their conclusion that ‘A great prophet has appeared among us’ (Lk.7:16). Perhaps even the great prophet (Deut.18:15)?
We are utterly helpless before death. It takes us whether we wish to go with it or not. It takes those we love, whether we wish it to or not. Nothing else quite has the capacity to expose the vulnerability of all we achieve in life. Perhaps few moments in the Gospels underline just how different from us Jesus is. Fully human (Heb.2:17), and yet so very different from our humanity... at least for now!
Questions:
Many Christians suggest that this kind of authority and power is (or at least should be) available to Christians today. What do you think? ...and why?
How does Christ’s authority over death change the way we grieve as Christians?
As a Church, how can we support those who are grieving in a distinctively Christian way?
How should we prepare for death? What do you anticipate are the unique temptations we will face in those moments? How can we die in a way that honours Christ?
This story doesn’t appear in any of the other Gospel accounts. Why do you think Luke makes a point of including it in his? What does this teach us about Jesus that other resuscitation-miracles don’t convey (see e.g. Lk.8:50-56)?
How can we cultivate this Christ-like tenderness and compassion (7:13)? ...or is compassion a character trait that we simply may or may not have?
In what ways are the crowds right in their response to what Jesus does (7:16-17)? and in what ways are they wrong?
