God's Word of Life: A Meditation on Luke 7, for the 3rd Sunday after Pentecost

Now when he came nigh to the gate of the city,

behold, there was a dead man carried out,

the only son of his mother, and she was a widow:

and much people of the city was with her.

And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her,

and said unto her, Weep not.

And he came and touched the bier:

and they that bare him stood still. And he said,

Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.

And he that was dead sat up, and began to speak.

And he delivered him to his mother.

An old pastoral mentor of mine many years ago gave me some advice regarding how to treat Law and Gospel at a funeral.  He said something to the effect that the pastor should speak almost exclusively of Gospel at such a time, since the preaching of the Law is coming through loudly already by the very presence of the deceased person.  His point, I believe rightly made, is that the Law of our sins leading inexorably to death is writ large by the coffin and corpse around which a funeral party gathers, and there is simply no way to deny it.  The joint Scriptural affirmations that no person is righteous before God by the works of the Law because of their sin, and that the wages of sin is death, hangs heavily present at every funeral or memorial service.  Very few people need to be reminded of the Law at a funeral to bring them to sorrow and contrition—it is starring them in the face.  They may deny it, avoid it, distract themselves from it, or try to turn it into a “celebration of life,” but deep down they know that the death they see before them, is also their own certain sentence.

So, too, I think, with the funeral procession which Jesus came upon in Luke 7.  The only son of a poor widow lay dead upon the funeral bier, and his mother was inconsolable.  Beyond the very practical troubles of a woman in ancient Palestine that arose from having no husband or children to care for her, this woman had now lost everything to death.  Her weeping was a reflection of her sorrow at losing her child, but it was also the sorrow that gushes forth in response to the awful toll which death takes upon us all.  The poor widowed mother wept as she beheld the consequences of the Law written in that procession which carried her son toward his grave, and would one day carry her lifeless body to the same dismal end.

Jesus did not attempt to teach this poor woman the fine points of the Law which had reduced her to despondency, and neither did He approach her with bland or empty platitudes.  His compassion for her emerged as He told her, “Weep not,” and made His way over to that dead, lifeless body of her son.  The text does not tell us how she responded at first, though I suppose it might have been a bit shocking; then, as now, strangers do not generally interrupt funeral processions by addressing the grieving family and then moving toward the deceased person.  It would seem inappropriate and out of place even in our day, yet even more in theirs, where such ceremonies had a very regular process, and touching a dead body made one ritually unclean.  But then, if we were to do something like this on our own authority, we would have nothing to offer from our own resources, since we are just as dead or dying as the ones to whom we would be speaking.  I am just as sure to taste the Law’s bitter sentence as it claims my body in death one day as the body which lay on that bier, and I have no other response I can offer but my own sorrow before it.  Our words are insufficient to salve the dead and dying, because our words come forth from equally dead and dying sinners.

Jesus, however, is not condemned before the Law as we are.  When He came to the widow and her son, He came as the very Word of God made flesh, the Author of Life whom death could never hold.  As Jesus encouraged this despairing mother to dry her tears, He also showed her a reason to do so:  He raised her son from the dead.  In that very moment, Jesus showed her and everyone around her, that there was more than the Law to be heard on that grim day.  Jesus showed Himself to be the resurrection and the life, the Creator and the Redeemer of His people, who came to give life where death once reigned.  Jesus presented Himself as the good news—the Gospel of life and grace—which alone could dispel the sorrow of death.  His Word came forth from the resources of His own divine eternal life, able to give to everyone what it spoke.

Like that young man on the funeral bier, or the weeping mother following him, we have no real power over death inherent in our broken selves, nor any true ability to avoid the grave.  We are fallen creatures, and the sentence of our fall is written into our biology so that we cannot escape it by any power we think we posses.  We can’t ultimately stop the degradation of our minds and bodies as we walk each day closer to our own funerals, any more than we can lift ourselves out of our own coffins or off our own biers.  But that Law is overwhelmed and overrun by the Gospel of Jesus Christ, who gives life to the dead and dying.  He does not ask dead sinners to save themselves, but rather approaches them through His Word and Sacraments, speaking life into them, lifting them out of their gloom and into His glory.  This is how He dries the tears of the widow, and soothes the fear which grips the mourners around every gravesite in the world.  This is where He speaks forgiveness, life, and salvation into still hearts so that they might beat again forevermore.  This is where the Gospel of His sacrificial death and resurrection becomes our salvation from sin, death, hell, and the power of the devil.  This is where we abide forever by His grace, living by faith in His Gospel promise which endures through every earthly calamity.  This is the Gospel of Life which dispels the terrors of the Law’s deadly condemnation.

Are you surrounded by death and dying today, with the tears and doubts that so often come with them?  Can you feel your body breaking down, no longer as strong and resilient as it once was, or your mind and memory slipping from the vigor of its youth?  Can you hear the mourners weep as they bury their fathers, their mothers, their friends, their children, and wonder if there is a light which can ever penetrate such consuming darkness?  Fear not, for Christ has come for you, and for us all.  Into the darkness of your sorrows and the cries of your community, He speaks a Word of Life to you which the curse of the Law cannot overcome.  While it is true that we all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, and that we rightly bear the cross of our death for the sins which course through our veins, the Everlasting Gospel promise is that for Christ’s sake your sins are forgiven, and that even though you die in this world you shall rise again to everlasting life—a life never again polluted by sin, never condemned by the righteousness of the Law, and never weighed down by sorrow or pain.  That Word of Life is the Light which breaks through every funeral shroud and calls to every dead and dying soul to arise in His grace by faith in His Name.  Hear Jesus speak to you through all the darkness, all the weeping, all the sorrow, all the death—hear Him speak to you His joyous Gospel Word of Life, that you may believe and live, raised up off your funeral bier to reflect that Word of Life to everyone around you who needs it just as much as you do.  Amen.