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.