pentecost 2 year c

1 Kings 17: 8-24 NRSV text
Psalm 146 NRSV text
Galatians 1: 11-24 NRSV text
Luke 7: 11-17 NRSV text

It’s difficult to miss the parallels between the story of Jesus healing the widow’s son at Nain and Elijah healing the widow’s son at Zarephath. And of course, the parallels are deliberate. The Lectionary compilers have put the texts together, and Luke, too, tells the story consciously to evoke the Elijah stories.

The Elijah/Elisha stories are used as parallels for Jesus. Although the gospel writers clearly wish to portray John the Baptist as the Elijah figure whose return heralds the Day of the Lord (cf Malachi 4: 5-6), this is Elijah in his eschatological role. By doing this, they contextualise Jesus’ ministry: in Jesus’ very presence, the Kingdom Of God is present. It is part of their Christology: Jesus is not a messenger of the Kingdom, but the bringer of the Kingdom and therefore divine. We need to be extremely cautious about drawing too sharp a distinction between the very explicitly high Christology of John and the Synoptic evangelists: it simply is not the case that the Synoptic evangelists do not portray Jesus as God incarnate. While they do not use those same categories that John does, they nevertheless in different ways insist that Jesus is God – and therefore worthy of worship. Their insistence that the Kingdom of God (which by definition can only come about through God) has come in the person of Jesus (rather than Jesus as some sort of messenger) is one such example. If John the Baptist is Elijah, then Jesus is God (is the clear intention of their message).

There is another set of Elijah parallels that operate, though. Luke evokes the Elijah/Elisha tradition repeatedly in respect of Jesus’ miracles – the healings and exorcisms. Both prophets were renowned for the power of their miracles. These were signs of God’s presence with them in particularly marked ways. Luke’s main point, however, is not to suggest that Jesus is like Elijah, but rather, in evoking the parallels, to show that Elijah and Elisha were pale foreshadowings of Jesus. Like the writer to the Hebrews, Luke uses the Old Testament texts to show that, in Jesus, “one greater than Elijah is here”. Jesus is God among us.

Jesus on the margins
We all know that Luke has a characteristic interest in Jesus’ concern for the people on the margins – Gentiles, women, outcasts, lepers, sick and poor people. Luke’s is the great gospel of inclusion – which is not to say that he is the sole evangelist of inclusion, but rather that he “showcases” the people in whom Jesus shows surprising interest. Remember, also, that the gospel is part one of a two-part story: the gospel is the precursor to Acts. Luke, in other words, has a constant eye towards the broadening out of the Christian mission to include the Gentiles. He is therefore keen to show us how the shaking loose of the Good News of Jesus from its foundations in Judaism has its roots in the ministry and practice of Jesus. Luke sets his story against a wide backdrop: it is not simply the situation and the history of Israel that is his wider canvas, but the Roman Empire, as representative of the wider world. Rome is not just the power from which the Jewish people need saving; the world of Empire is the arena of God’s saving activity, which will radiate out “from Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, to the uttermost parts of the earth”.

The story of Elijah in Zarephath is significant for the fact that it takes place in Gentile territory. The prophet is sent by Yahweh to live for a while among the Gentiles – and to be the means of salvation for the widow of Zarephath. We need to note Yahweh’s command to Elijah: “ … for I have commanded a widow there to feed you” (1Kings 17:9). We can see why this story appeals to Luke! Read Acts and note how often the Spirit is working in more than one place at once to connect people (eg Peter and Cornelius in Acts 10). A similar thing is happening in this chapter: Yahweh is speaking both to Elijah and a woman far away in Zarephath. So Elijah sets off as instructed.

Now, Nain is not Gentile territory. It lies south-west of Galilee. But Luke doesn’t need to have it take place in Gentile territory. Firstly, the Elijah story evokes that vivid memory among his hearers. Secondly, the theme of Jesus’ dealings with Gentiles is prominent enough in Luke’s gospel anyway. But more importantly, this story belongs to the first phase of Jesus’ ministry (begun with the sermon in Nazareth) in which Luke shows Jesus sitting critically and light to Jewish piety and tradition. In other words, whatever Jesus is up to, it puts him on the margins of mainstream Judaism, however much he stands within that tradition. He cleanses a leper, and engages in disputes over fasting and Sabbath observance. He is uncomfortably familiar with the world of demons for the taste of the religious leaders, which will lead to speculation about the source of his power. Jesus, in other words, is a boundary-breaker. He can’t be contained by the religious conventions of his day and culture – just as the gospel will not be contained by its Jewish roots. This is part of Luke’s emphasis on the way in which Jesus fulfils the Old Covenant – but in ways that the religious leaders find totally shocking and unacceptable.

Let’s return to the Elijah story. There is a famine. Like the story of the woman of Samaria in John chapter 4, there is a significant meeting at the village well. Elijah asks for a drink and something to eat. It emerges that the widow is down to her last provisions. There is flour and oil enough to make one last meal – then there is no more. She plans to make this last supper for herself and her son, and then to die – because starvation is inevitable. Incredibly, she is prepared to feed Elijah – first.

There are two miracles of provision in the passage. The first is the provisions that do not run out. The second is the raising of the widow’s son. The point – both in the time of Elijah and Jesus – is that widows were particularly vulnerable. A widow without a son to look after her would be entirely destitute.

Here is God’s salvation in action. God is the God for the needy. That is Luke’s emphasis here in his gospel story. God’s concern is different from what was understood and expected. Jesus, like Elijah, is presented as a prophet (cf Luke 7:16). In the main, prophets were bad news – or at least, their appearance was bad news, because it meant that God was not happy. And if God was unhappy, that meant trouble!

That’s what the people were expecting of Jesus. If he was truly the fulfilment of the promises of the End, then he was, by definition, the Wrath of God incarnate! That’s how John the Baptist announces him (cf 3: 7-17). But Jesus isn’t a prophet like that. He is the prophet of the grace of God. The parallel with the Elijah story is a reminder that God doesn’t always use prophets as thunderbolts! Sometimes, prophets are the grace of God incarnate.

Jesus confounds expectations because of his graciousness. The grace of God is seen most clearly in Jesus’ concern for those on the margins – which he announces is God’s concern too! God, he proclaims (to a sceptical audience!) is less concerned with God’s own honour than with lost, trapped, needy people. God has not come in Jesus to embrace and reward the faithful, but to seek and to save the lost. God hasn’t come to vindicate the righteous, but to invite the marginalised and written off people to a great feast. And here, in Nain, that message is heard clearly. The people’s response is, “A great prophet has risen among us” and “God has looked favourably on his people”. The conjunction of those two sentences is surprising: normally, the presence of a great prophet is a sign that God is looking very unfavourably upon his people! Yet Jesus is different – and the word spreads like wildfire!

That is why John the Baptist, on hearing this, sends word to find out if he has got Jesus all wrong. Is Jesus actually the Messiah (as John had believed), or were they still waiting for someone else? Of course, the “someone else” that John means is someone who will do a proper job of being the Wrath of God! And Jesus’ response (remarkably reminiscent of Psalm 146) is effectively to say, “John, my friend, you’re an amazing man. There hasn’t ever been anyone quite like you. But you’ve got God wrong on this one. Listen to what’s happening: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who doesn’t find that offensive!”

Jesus’ God is the God of Good News because God is compassionate. God’s compassion is the heart of the divine character. To be God is to be compassionate and to save – not to judge! It wasn’t easy for the people to accept. In fact, it got Jesus killed. But the raising of the widow’s son at Nain was a demonstration of God’s passion for Life and salvation.

Paul the boundary-breaker (Galatians 1: 11-24)
Boundaries are psychologically very important. They ensure that everything is in place. They demarcate and create zones of safety. That is as true religiously as it is in every other area of life. We have a deep-seated need to know who is in and who is out. It’s about reassurance, isn’t it? Christian history is littered with attempts to draw those boundaries clearly. The traditional baseline is that if we’re Christians, we’re in, and if we’re not, we’re out. But that isn’t enough. We want to ensure that people believe in certain ways. It’s not enough, for example, to say that Jesus’ death saves us. Steve Chalke caused a furore in the Evangelical Alliance when he criticised the atonement theory of Penal Substitution – a touchstone of “proper belief”. But then, Lutherans and Calvinists killed each other over how we ought to believe in Christ’s presence at the Eucharist! And historically, children who died unbaptised were not allowed to be buried in consecrated ground.

We don’t only do it over doctrine: we use codes of behaviour as a measure. “Christians don’t drink, smoke, swear, dance or go to movies” was the word on the street when I was a teenager in the 1970s. We see more extreme forms of conformity in communities such as the Amish, who practise shunning – excluding members of the community whose conduct is regarded as unacceptable.

My point is that, because boundaries are important, any suggestion that they might be appropriate generates huge anger and resistance. And that was precisely Paul’s problem! Paul was the apostle to the Gentiles. In ways that he couldn’t fathom and which were at first beyond his belief, God had apparently re-written the rule-book – or more accurately, thrown the book out altogether! It began for him on the road to Damascus, on his way to root out the Christians who were spreading pernicious and heretical lies about Jesus being the Messiah whom God had raised from the dead. That just couldn’t be – Jesus had been crucified as a blasphemer. And suddenly, he is brought to the realisation that the very best of his beliefs had led the people to crucify the Messiah for whom they had been praying and waiting!

That meant that God was doing something extraordinary – something that broke the previous boundaries wide open. Being “in” was no longer a matter of closely observing the covenantal Law. Rather, all that was required was to accept God’s gracious invitation to Life in Jesus Christ by faith. It meant that his Gentile converts became Christians rather than Jews. They didn’t have to observe the Jewish Law. And significantly, they didn’t even have to be circumcised! The rules had changed.

This was not an easy thing for the early Jewish Christians to accept. In fact, there was deep-seated conflict between Paul and the Jerusalem Church about the matter. It seems that Paul was ploughing a very lonely furrow. In fact, it appears that there was a concerted campaign emanating from Jerusalem to re-evangelise Paul’s Gentile converts and get them back on the straight and narrow.

This is the situation he is faced with in Galatia. The Church he has founded has received visits from the Jerusalem mob, with the backing of several “big guns” from among the apostles. They’ve come to get the Galatian Gentile Christians to embrace Torah observance and get the men to be circumcised as a sign of proper fidelity to God. And they’ve been remarkably successful! That’s Paul’s gripe in 1:6. Here, at the outset of his letter, the livid apostle weighs in to defend his credentials – not for his own sake, but for the sake of the gospel. He wants to reassure the Galatians that he has not led them astray, and that his gospel of freedom (or licence, in the eyes of the more conservative Jerusalem Jewish Christians) is the Truth. They do not need to take the backward step of observing the Law, because God, in Jesus, has moved beyond the Law into a new era that can best be characterised as grace.

That is why Paul is so vehement. His opponents can quote a venerable pedigree, and the support of the majority of the apostles (who had, of course, been with Jesus during the latter’s lifetime, whereas Paul had not). That is why Paul is concerned to stress that he has not received his gospel from human sources (cf 1: 1,11,16). He claims not to have seen any of the other apostles except Peter and James, and to have received his gospel directly as a revelation from God.

We’re used, of course, to this situation – and to Paul being right! But imagine how difficult it must have been both for Paul and the Jerusalem Christians. On the one hand, Paul’s opponents are citing the scriptures, while on the other, Paul is citing the Spirit. It’s old revelation vs new revelation, and the battle is bitter. It’s every bit as bitter and heated as the contemporary discussions about human sexuality are!

But what is at stake for Paul is not so much his own ego, and about being right for his own vindication (though Paul could never be accused of being shy and retiring!): what is at stake is the nature of the gospel and therefore of God also. For Paul, what God is doing and has done in Jesus is more wonderful and breathtaking than anyone had ever dreamed of. It is the new wine that has burst the old wineskins of the Law. This isn’t an arcane theological concern for Paul: he is acutely aware of the fact that the very Law of God was used to condemn Jesus. This is different from saying that Jesus’ trial was a legal farce and that he was stitched up. Paul was quite clear that Jesus was a Law-breaker. God’s Messiah was condemned by the very Law that was supposed to save!

The problem, as Paul will go on to expand, isn’t that the Law is wrong, or evil; rather, human sinfulness means that the Law is powerless to do what it is set up to do by God. Therefore, God has had to do something in Jesus to break the power of sin and, in so doing, has made the Law redundant. At stake is not a justification or otherwise of a particular religious system, but the need to be faithful to what God is doing – first in Jesus, and latterly by the Spirit. God has smashed the old boundaries. God is on the move – and it is vital not to be left behind.

Amen.