Sixteenth Sunday after Trinity

Had there been newspapers in Bible days, the headline the next day might have read, “Jesus ruins another funeral—Yesterday’s function was hopelessly derailed when Jesus showed up uninvited and canceled the ceremony. Even though the whole town had come out to bury the young man, their efforts were unsuccessful. The burial was a failure, the funeral home didn’t get paid, and the headstone which had been engraved with the date of the man’s death is now worthless. Be warned. Jesus is not to attend any future social functions. Well, ok, he’s pretty good to have around at weddings, in case the wine runs out, but a funeral? Forget about it. If Jesus shows up, it’s over.”

I’m being a bit humorous here, though there is nothing humorous about death. Even when someone dies peacefully at the age of 100, it’s still profoundly sad. But this case is sadder still. Within our broken world we nevertheless expect to find a certain, natural order with regard to death. A son should be the one to bury his mother. Not only is this mother burying her son, she is burying the only son she ever had.

What’s more, this is not her first funeral procession. She’s a widow. This is the second time they have carried out a dead man for her, but at that time she had only one comfort left, her son. Now he was being carried out also, her last consolation and, since he had grown up, her only supporter and provider. No wonder a considerable crowd of the city went with her out to the burial. They must have felt sorry for her. But after the funeral service they would all go home to their families, houses, and livelihoods, and she would go home to nothing. There were no food stamps in Bible times, no government welfare, no social programs. For an elderly widow with no husband and no sons there was only the expectation of starvation and death. That was the future she had to look forward to.

Our text begins with a funeral procession. The poor women is headed to the cemetery with her son, accompanied by a great crowd. This is the procession of death, and every person born of Adam is a member of this crowd. You joined this procession when you were born, and every day of life is but a slow and relentless march to the grave. You can’t avoid it. You can’t stop it. Today, we might be burying someone else, but sooner or later they will carry you out. Apart from Christ, death reigns over all. That was the future we had to look forward to.

But on this day, as the unstoppable procession of death heads off with the latest victim, it comes to a sudden halt. What happens when an immovable object encounters an unstoppable force? Ask death? It knows what happened when it encountered Jesu. The crowd of death that is headed out of the city collides with another crowd, a throng of disciples and believers who are following Jesus. This is the procession of life. In the ancient Easter sequence, Christians, to the Paschal Victim, we sing of this collision: “Death and life have contended In that combat stupendous: the Prince of Life, who died, reigns immortal!” Jesus ruins another funeral.

Now I have attended a lot of funerals, and I have spoken to many sorrowing relatives. But there is one thing I have never dared to say to a grieving mother, “Stop crying!” Can you imagine that? Jesus encounters a funeral procession. A women he has seen before is sobbing at the loss of her only son. Jesus walks up to her and say, “Stop weeping!” No wonder the pallbearers stood still. They must have been flabbergasted. Jesus needs to learn how to behave at a funeral. You don’t say that. But Jesus did. And then he did something else that nobody would ever do. He reached out and touched the casket, touched the dead man.

We don’t understand the significance of this because we’re not Jews living under the ritual cleanliness laws of the Old Testament. But everyone in the crowd knew: You don’t teach a dead body, not voluntarily. The pall-bearers had no choice. It was part of the job, and they knew that they would be ritually unclean for seven days. In or day this would be similar to being exposed to COVID and having to quarantine for a week or two. Death was contagious. In order to become clean they had to undergo a complicated process of purification. Anyone who failed to follow the proper steps was excommunicated. Why? To keep death from spreading through the community.

When we touch sickness and death, we get infected. That’s just how the world works. But it’s not how Jesus works. We are afraid of death, but He isn’t. We are concerned with contamination, but not Jesus. Instead, he does the unthinkable. After saying to the mother, “Stop crying,” He reaches out, grabs hold of death, and says, “Young man, I say to you, arise.”

If you or I were to say this, nothing would happen. That’s why we don’t tell grieving mothers to stop crying. But Jesus says, “I say to you…” When the Lord of Life speaks, well, that’s different. When the one who let death swallow Him in order to swallow up death speaks, then death itself must give up its prey. When Jesus attends a funeral, He always ruins it, even if it’s His own funeral.

And then what happened to that sad procession of death? Two groups collided outside the city, and then there was only one. The funeral procession was over, and its members were surprised to find themselves headed in a new direction. That young man being carried out was you. As a sinner under the condemnation of death, you were headed toward a dark and certain future. The soul that sins must die. That was the future you had to look forward to—until you collided with Jesus. The first collision happened to you on the day of your baptism. You were on the road to eternal death, and then Jesus interrupted the procession. But Jesus isn’t done. Your baptism is down payment of what he has promised to still do for you.

You see, Jesus wants to give you even more than he gave that young man two-thousand years ago. Where is that man today? Well, at some point, he died again, hopefully long after his mother this time, and they carried him out again. When Jesus raised the widow’s son, he wasn’t giving him eternal life, not yet. He merely pushed back the day of his death. At that time Jesus had not yet conquered death on his cross. But he was headed to Calvary for that very purpose.

Jesus is not really interested in promising you a few more years of life before you die. Instead, he promises you, “He who believes in me, after he dies, then he will live.” That is a far better future! Yes, the day will come when they carry you out. They’ll put you in the ground. The funeral home director will get paid. People will cry. Then everyone will go home saying, “The funeral was a success. We laid her to rest and now it’s over. Death has claimed another victim.” But Jesus says, “Not so fast, death. Take your hands off. This one belongs to me. Stop weeping, everyone, because this funeral’s over.” And then he’ll reach out and take your hand, saying, “Young man, young woman, I say to you, arise.” And then you will join the joyous throng of believers as we follow Jesus through the gates of the city into eternal life. Amen.