Luke 7:11-17 [i]
August 24
Lauren J. McFeaters
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Have you been to New Orleans? There’s the French Quarter, the Garden District, Jackson Square, and Preservation Hall. There’s the National WWII Museum and the Mahalia Jackson Theater. Then there’s the food: the Po-Boys and Gumbo, Crawfish Etouffee and Jambalaya. And the way to start your day is with a copy of the Tribune, beignets, and café au lait.
And then, there are the cemeteries. Lots of them. They’re named St. Louis and Cypress Grove, Gates of Prayer and Greenwood, Holt and Lake Lawn. So many cemeteries in so little space. And because the city lies at sea level, all the graves are in above-the-ground crypts, surrounded by stone statuary.
In New Orleans, one of the most notable facets of culture is how you get to the cemetery. You get there with Jazz.
The Jazz Funeral is unique to New Orleans. Its origins date back centuries to Nigeria and West Africa, and it begins at church. After worship, outside on the steps, the casket is carried by family and friends, or slid inside a glass-sided hearse. A solemn brass band leads the procession and the mourners walk behind.
Slowly, very slowly, the procession shuffles toward the cemetery. Dirges are played: Nearer My God to Thee and Just a Closer Walk with Thee.[ii] You know this hymn. Can’t you just hear Mahalia Jackson – the cadence and the pulse:
Just a closer walk with Thee
Grant it, Jesus, is my plea
Daily walking close to Thee
Let it be, dear Lord, let it be [iii]
Arriving at the grave, the words of committal are said, and the pallbearers lift the casket for the burial. And then … Nothing. Silence. Nothing but silence. Silence goes on and on and on …
Until … KAPOW! Celebration music fills the air. Shouts of joy are raised. Hoots and hollers. Glory Alleluia! The brass lifts up When the Saints Go Marching In. Can’t you hear Louie Armstrong? The festivities of Thanksgiving begin.
It’s the defining moment; a holy moment:
- Past moves to future.
- Shuffling becomes swing.
- A crowd struts, sings, waves umbrellas, all the while dancing everything back to life; dancing everything back to life. [iv]
It’s all tribute. Tribute and care; honor and compassion.
As we travel with Jesus today, he meets a funeral procession: a solemn, mourning people, shuffling to the cemetery. Searching for a closer walk with God. Dirges are wailed. Laments are moaned.
There’s a shattered mother; known only as the Widow of Nain. A devastated woman, left in a man’s world. It’s a picture of destitution. Her future without her son’s support and security, is grim; her circumstances dire. She’s left in total dependence upon the crowd around her. [v]
And yet, when Jesus witnesses her heartache, he has neither pity nor kindness. He has no sympathy or charity. What Jesus has is compassion.
“Do not weep.” Compassion.
“Do not cry.” Compassion.
“Let me wipe your tears.” Compassion.
The biblical word for compassion comes from the Greek word splagcna. I’m going to say it again. Splagcna. It sounds like it means. Splagcna literally meaning: to have tender mercy – straight from the bowels; to have loving mercy from the viscera; to have heart from the innards. Jesus’ compassion is a tender mercy straight from the gut.
The root of compassion comes straight from the very pit of our being. That plummeting in our guts when we hear really shocking news, when we witness cruelty, when we experience something so terribly unexpected that we feel only from our core.
Jesus was sucker punched by the Widow of Nain, so much so that power came forth as he touched the dead man’s body and breath filled the dead man’s lungs: “Young man. I say to you Rise! Awaken!” “Young man. I say to you Get Up! Dance.”
That’s the root of Jesus’ closer walk with the Widow of Nain: his compassion is more than an understanding look, or a sympathetic word, [vi] his consideration more than pity.
So too for Christians. Our Acts of Compassion must be a lovingkindness [vii] in service to the broken. Our Acts of Compassion must be mercy in service to the shattered.
And if we let our Christian Witness come from our guts, we can completely undermine the contempt, the loathing, and abhorrence of humanity that is happening all around us.
Acts of compassion, can absolutely slash through hatred and cut through fear. Acts of compassion become the indispensable way to rid the world of Tyranny.
And compassion, in the name of our Servant Lord, is perhaps the only thing that can save us from ourselves.[viii]
The Widow of Nain doesn’t ask Jesus to raise her son. She doesn’t fall on her knees and beg for her son’s life. All she does is weep. There are no words about faith, or gratitude, or praise; just the absolute power of a mother’s tears.[ix]
We’re a church with a lot of tears. We’re moved by many things. We cry easily. When we witness baptisms; enjoy a partnership with a new friend at St. Mary’s in Trenton; when we embrace a refugee family; when we minister beside our siblings at Westminster and Witherspoon Street Churches; when we experience the generosity of older adults; the determination of teens; and the bravery of children.
When our Lord restores to a widow her son, he restores her world. When our Lord guides a church to practice compassion, he restores our world. That’s what the kingdom of God does: Restores us. Raises us. Resurrects us. It’s pure joy – deep from the gut. Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.
ENDNOTES
[i] Luke 7: 11-17 NRSVue: Soon afterward Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went with him. As he approached the gate of the town, a man who had died was being carried out. He was his mother’s only son, and she was a widow, and with her was a large crowd from the town. When the Lord saw her, he was moved with compassion for her and said to her, “Do not cry.” Then he came forward and touched the bier, [that is the frame on which the young man’s body is laid] and the bearers stopped. And Jesus said, “Young man, I say to you, rise!” The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized all of them, and they glorified God, saying, “A great prophet has risen among us!” and “God has visited his people!” This word about him spread throughout the whole of Judea and all the surrounding region.
[ii] “Multi-Cultural Traditions: The Jazz Funeral.” Originally printed in The Soul of New Orleans. www.neworleansonline.com.
[iii] Just a Closer Walk With Thee (anonymous)
I am weak but Thou art strong
Jesus keep me from all wrong
I’ll be satisfied as long
As I walk, let me walk close to Thee
Just a closer walk with Thee
Grant it, Jesus, is my plea
Daily walking close to Thee
Let it be, dear Lord, let it be
When my feeble life is o’er
Time for me will be no more
Guide me gently, safely o’er
To Thy kingdom’s shore, to Thy shore Refrain
[iv] Mary LaCoste. “New Orleans jazz funerals — A joyous tradition.” The Louisiana Weekly, www.louisianaweekly.com, September 22, 2014.
[v] Beverly R. Gaventa Charles B. Cousar, J. Clinton McCann, Jr., James D. Newsome. Texts for Preaching: A Lectionary Commentary Based on the NRSV, Year C. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994, 379-80.
[vi] Ibid.
[vii] Gratitude abounds for Brian Phillips and Kevin Reel as they are the living definition of lovingkindness.
[viii] Walter Brueggemann. The Prophetic Imagination. New York: Fortress Press, 1978, 91.
[ix] Kim Buchanan. Sermon: From Procession to Party. Luke 7:11-17. Day1: A Ministry for the Alliance of Christian Media, Atlanta, Georgia, June 10, 2007.