Raising the living from death

Everyone was filled with awe and praised God saying, ‘A great prophet has appeared among us; God has visited his people.’ And this opinion of him spread throughout Judaea and all over the countryside.

Luke 7:16 - 17

When we are bereaved, we fall onto the language that we have learned over the years that helps us to express our grief and give meaning to our loss. It’s not our everyday language. Our loved ones are with God, gone to heaven, resting in peace, alive forever, with Grandma, in our hearts, entered eternal life and we euphemise about death, avoiding the word altogether by talking about passing away, passing over, passed on or just passed. What does this all mean? And what makes us use this language?

Death is common to every living thing. Including us. Yet we live as if there is no tomorrow, we surround ourselves with objects, relationships, ideas and experiences that emphasise the present, that celebrate the here and now, participation, consumption. Death is the ultimate threat to our way of life. Many of us have forgotten how to grieve, how to mourn and how to let go.

Indeed, what lies beyond our final breath? For the early Hebrews there was sheol, the place of the dead, eventually displaced by an afterlife. The Greeks called this underworld hades. The Abrahamic religions came to accept that our post-death destination was both earned and eternal. But what is it that ‘lives on’? Will our egos survive? Is the whole notion of life after death a mere human construction to hang our need for something beyond? Can I suggest that I have been asking the wrong question? The question ought be, what happens to me when someone I love dies?

The story of the raising of the widow of Nain’s son is a story unique to Luke (7:11 – 17). Her only son has died and he was being carried out of the town to be buried. His mother was accompanied by a considerable number of townspeople. Jesus and a great number of disciples were entering the town at the same time. Jesus saw her and was sorry for her. Sorry for her in her state of grief, sorry that being a widow the early death of her only son would mean poverty, eking out a living at the edge of society. Jesus had compassion for her, for he sensed the enormity of her loss. She is indeed bereft.

Jesus placed his hand on the man’s bier and spoke to him: Young man, I tell you to get up. He sat up and began to talk, then Jesus gave him to his mother. In doing this it is the widow’s life that is restored, she now has a life to live, a purpose, a support, a reason to get up every day, she will be a mother-in-law, a grandmother.

The miracle is not about the raising of the dead, it is the story of the raising of the living, of being transformed, made anew with the power and presence of Jesus. It is he who makes a difference in my life, who makes it possible to get through the difficulties, pain and hardship of everyday living.

No one asks the young man, ‘Was there anything on the other side?’ No. I need to constantly remind myself that in losing those I love in death, I am also open and available to the transforming love and compassion of others. There is new life for all of us.

Knowing God

Yet you have made him little less than a god;

with glory and honour you crowned him,

gave him power over the works of your hand,

put all things under his feet.

Psalm 8:5 – 6

It is a particular obsession of Christians that they need to know the nature of God. Their journey to the Trinitarian doctrine, missing – as we understand it – from the Hebrew and Christian scriptures, emerged in the 4^th century in clarifying concerns with the Arius and his followers. The debate flourished until the Council of Florence in 1442, ever since then Christians have attempted to reconnect the doctrine to the daily life of believers.

It is not unreasonable given that God is pretty well central to our being Christian, that we should have some idea about who and what s/he is. We preface our moments of prayer with the Trinitarian sign of the cross and are blessed at the end of our worship in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. But I suspect that a discussion on the Trinity with most Christians would be somewhat brief. 

God, both the word and the idea itself are, in fact, human constructions – we use words, images, analogy, metaphor – but they are all we have. Our words cannot encapsulate who or what God is, s/he is beyond our constructions, beyond our ideas and notions. God is God. If we could name his/her nature, would s/he still be God or only the extent of our imagination? Despite this, millions upon millions of words have been written, arguments and counterarguments tendered, excommunications, the church fractured into east and west. Of all Christian doctrines, the Trinity is the one most likely to evade us, and when we can no longer put words to it, we roll out the word ‘mystery’.

The writer of Psalm 8, on the other hand, focuses not on God, but on humanity. It is not how we describe God that is important, but it is the esteem, the glory and honour that God gives us, his creatures, that he would choose us out of all living creatures to rule over his creation. It is about relationship: the unreachable God, the numinous God, the God-whom-we-cannot-adequately-describe, the God beyond our comprehension - in our Christian tradition s/he is accessible and knowable. In our Abrahamic tradition the God who reveals her/himself to Moses at the burning bush is I am who I am. Our tongues and minds will never grasp the fullness of God, but what we grow towards is a sharing in the divinity that is God, for we have been made little less than gods (cf Ps 8:5)

The Catholic encyclopedia (p. 1270) neatly summarises this complex doctrine: “We are saved by God through Jesus Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit. This Sunday is Trinity Sunday.

The biggest winners

It is a thousand times easier to transform a room with a new coat of paint, new curtains and furniture than it is to transform our bodies like those in Biggest Losers, and if you’re a Biggest Loser’s follower, they do use language like transforming their lives. And I agree that making physical changes can indeed assist in transforming our lives. There are improvements to relationships, self-image and general wellbeing.

But there are also other experiences that can equally be life-changing, life transforming: falling in love marriage, having children, losing parents, acquiring disability through emotional or physical trauma, serendipitous luck, separation and divorce, disease. Mention should be made of the thrill of skydiving and base jumping.  But then I need to include religious conversion. I write here not of the conversion to or from Catholicism, Buddhism or any religious persuasion. The conversion I write of is the conversion in which the experience is so dramatic and extraordinary that it is impossible to refuse to assent to the changes to which you are impelled.

Such is the experience of the first disciples on the Jewish feast of Pentecost in the city of Jerusalem. As they hide in trepidation in their room, while the outside world was gathering from its four corners to celebrate the gift of the Law on Sinai, the sound of a great wind, followed by what appear to be tongues of fire appear. The disciples are impelled by an overwhelming drive to leave their haven and to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus, to proclaim the new Law, the commandment of love. Their enthusiasm is so infectious that not only do the assembled hear in their own language but over 3,000 are baptized. We attribute this life transforming event to the gift of the Holy Spirit, the Advocate.

But how can we put our finger on this gift, and how does it bring about change? The writer of Acts doesn’t tell us with any clarity. But the fear and anxiety that was present is lifted like a theatre curtain. Whatever it was that raised that ‘curtain’ will remain a mystery (that is, something beyond our understanding), yet you and I are invited to share in the journey of those first disciples, to be a part of the fiery energy that drove them to the streets. This is true transformation –  everything I say and do, the way I look at the world and my relationships is now viewed through this incredible change that has overtaken me. It begins when I am fully open and available to the God who loves me, when at last the curtain of my uncertainty, my doubt, my humanity is lifted once and for all, and when once and for all I say yes to his invitation.

Happiness

For this is what the Lord commanded us to do when he said:

I have made you a light for the nations,

so that my salvation may reach the ends of the earth.’

Acts 13:47

It’s great having good news to share. Making the call, hearing the excitement of friends and family as you announce an engagement, an expected new family member, buying a new home or winning a promotion. It’s an experience of happiness.

Each of us seeks happiness, happiness in our own way, happiness that meets our hopes and dreams. There are broadly two types of happiness, hedonic – which is the experience or state of pleasure, and eudaimonic – which involves our entire wellbeing and contentment. And, believe it or not, there is a rich science of happiness that is multileveled and multi-disciplinary, ranging from philosophy to theology, biology to psychology.

So what do we know? Corey Keyes, a sociologist, suggests that when people flourish or when people live a ‘good life’ (as described by Aristotle) they have high life satisfaction in at least six of the following eudaimonic qualities: contributing to society, social integration, wide range of social groups, accepting others, self-acceptance, mastery over their environment, positive relationships with others, autonomy, personal growth, and purpose in life.

You and I know that happy people are great to be with, and it is recognized that happy people live longer, are more creative, playful and open to new ideas. Biology tells us that we also have a disposition to satisfaction in life, but the evidence is clear that because of the brain’s plasticity it can adapt and change according life’s experiences. We can forge positivity, it can be learned.

From his extensive research, psychologist Martin Seligman proposed three ways to increase your happiness: get more pleasure out of life, become more engaged in what you do, and find ways of making your life feel more meaningful.

Can I suggest that the Christian person ought be a happy person, because any faithful response to the Christian vocation is an answer to Seligman’s proposition? Are not Christians deeply aware of life’s offerings, of the integrity of creation and the wonders it unfurls for them each day? Are not Christians drawn by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit to build communities of compassion, of fellowship, of hope? Are not Christians meaning-makers of life’s experiences? Yes, they are.

The disciples of Jesus find themselves in Antioch in Pisidia, preaching the good news to all the assembly and after being abused by the local Jewish community, Barnabas tells them that ‘We had to proclaim the word of God to you first, but since you have rejected it … we must turn to the pagans.’ When the pagans heard this they were very happy, they thanked the Lord and they all became believers. In this conversion both the disciples and the pagans are transformed – the disciples are filled with joy, and the pagans in their happiness take the Gospel to the whole countryside. This is Christian happiness, and it is available still to you and me.

The advantage of Christ

-->

 

I believe nothing can happen that will outweigh the supreme

advantage of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.

Philippians 3:8

None of us was born speaking English. We learned over the first years of our lives – we developed a vocabulary, a sense of grammar, stringed sentences together, explored its peculiarities in rhyme and rhythm, nonsense words, prose and poetry and song. In time we became experts, so we could judge nuance and generality, succinctness and verbosity, sincerity and arrogance.

Our parents generally taught us the essentials about healthy eating, road safety, sun safety, good manners, how to clean up our rooms, manage our income, stand up for ourselves, share our stuff, behave at Grandma’s and a myriad of other things that enable us to be productive members of our families and communities.

And yet, there are some things that parents don’t prepare us well for at all – and often it’s not because parents deliberately avoid them, it can often be that we just don’t know that it matters. Just one of those things is religion. Religion is learned, it is passed on from generation to generation, person to person. Like language it has to be lived every day, practised – but also questioned, explored and examined so that fine details are teased out, the characters are alive, the rites and rituals make sense and link with the patterns of the lives of those around us – and all of this goes to nourish faith. I have met many people who want their children to choose their religion. That is all and well, but there can be no choosing if a child has no choice. Children cannot be presented at school because they have not been taught to speak because parents want their children to choose their language. Religion is the language of the heart and it takes many years to uncover it riches.

Does it matter? Well, yes it does. What can we do about it? There can be very practical things to do – get hold of some reading material, e.g., There are several books called, What Catholics believe – you can use your search engine to explore what it means to be Catholic, or Anglican or Prebyterian. Perhaps you’ll surprise yourself about how much you know or how little. What is it you really want to pass onto your children. Something that will be passed on for generations?

Some children know the intricacies of Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings and can talk day and night about their meaning, the analogies and metaphors, writing styles and yet disconnect from the great stories of our most powerful religious and cultural text, the Bible. St Paul’s advice is clear as a bell, learn what we will at home, school or university, but nothing can outweigh the advantage of knowing Christ Jesus our Lord.

Encounter with the God of Abraham

 

Then Moses said to God, ‘I am to go, then, to the sons of Israel and say to them, “The God of your fathers has sent me to you.” But if they ask me what his name is, what am I to tell them?’ And God said to Moses, ‘I Am who I Am.’

Exodus 3:14 - 15

In the epic that is the book of Exodus, the mountain-top encounter between Moses and the God of his ancestors, Abraham, Isaac and Jacob is one of the pivotal moments of the Hebrew scriptures.

In this pericope, a typical biblical calling narrative, Moses, while looking down on his father-in-law’s flock, sees a burning bush that is not being consumed by the flames. As he approaches he hears a voice emanating from the blazing bush. It is the voice of God. Gods (with a lower case g) were many in the ancient near east, but the Hebrew people had maintained their fidelity to the God of their forebears long into their exile in Egypt. The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob had heard their plea, and he had chosen Moses to set them free. Moses was acutely aware of his limitations, he had a stutter, he was unsure how he was to convince the Hebrews to follow him. Moses wanted to be able to tell the Hebrew who exactly had sent him, and it is to this question that voice from the unconsumed bush revealed his name: I AM WHO I AM – represented as the tetragrammaton, YHWH, which we say as Yahweh.

This is the beginning of a story that is critical to Israel’s identity – the slavery, the liberation from bondage, the establishment of the covenant and the gift of the Law, memorialized in the Passover and linked intimately to Last Supper and the Paschal mystery which is the cornerstone of our Christian faith.

There is a voice in a burning bush calling each of us. It will happen just as it did for Moses, while we are about our work and everyday life. It will be a person, a situation, an intuition, a need, and if we listen as Moses listened, if we hear as Moses heard then we will discern the right response. You may not liberate a nation, but you may help set someone free from loneliness and bereavement, you may not perform miracles of nature, but you may provide comfort and compassion, you might not seek manna from heaven, but you may give generously to charity and those in need.

And yes, we may have difficulties of our own, people might not believe our motivation. The proof is to be armed with faith, to know that the God of our ancestors walks with us, that we will be provided with the courage to respond. And again, this Lenten season invites us to the burning bush, inviting us to make a leap of faith