Deep in the Darkness Is God

Proper 5C; 1 Kings 17:17-24; Ps. 30; Luke 7:11-17; St. Paul’s, Smithfield

6/5/16 – Jim Melnyk: “Deep in the Darkness Is God”

Tears are no stranger to us in the stories of our faith.  Perhaps that’s because tears are no stranger to us in our day to day lives.  When the Psalmist, considering Israel held captive in exile, talks about growing weary from suffering to the point of flooding his couch with tears – his “eyes wasted with grief” (6:6-7), it’s not too difficult for most of us to picture – perhaps most of us can identify with the poet – though perhaps in our day it’s our pillows that we might drench with our tears.

Most of us, if not all, I hope, know that as Easter always follows Good Friday, our faith tells us that joy will return.  The Psalmist reminds us today that joy comes in the morning – though in our experience it’s not always the next morning, or the morning after that – sometimes it might be days, or weeks, or even seasons.  But our hope – the promise we are offered when we find ourselves in sorrowful places – is that like Easter, joy will return – our wailing turned to dancing (Psalm 30). 

The widow of Zarephath knew what it meant to flood her couch with tears.  Like many among the poor today, too many women of her day found themselves destitute if and when they became widowed.  It’s one of the reasons that widows and orphans are especially singled out for care in Torah.  This widow was no exception.  Earlier in the portion of the story we heard this morning we come upon a woman who probably has no tears left to shed.  She is resigned to her own death – and to the death of her son.  Facing famine induced by a long drought, she is gathering sticks to build a fire in order to cook a last meal for her and her son – using the very last bits of the oil and meal she has on hand.   

           

As the story unfolds, Elijah tells the widow that if she will prepare a loaf of bread from what little meal and oil she has left, God will bless her and the meal and the oil will last until the rains return and the crops are renewed.  With the advent of the prophet who has been sent to her, the widow’s weeping has certainly been turned to joy in the morning.  But as the story picks up today, that joy is short-lived.  We don’t know how many days, or weeks, or months the widow and her son enjoyed their reprieve from starvation.  Does it matter?  All we know is that her son is now dead, and I imagine that behind her accusations toward the prophet, the tears are once more ready to flow.  Can you imagine hearing her speaking to the prophet?

“Twice now have I died.

Once you brought me back from the brink

Only to die again,

Flesh of my flesh lost to me.

Had we both died from hunger then

I would not be grieving now.

You, God – you have given me tears

for my bread.

Would you see me live again?

Give me back that which I have lost.

Give me back my son.

This will be bread enough” (Jim Melnyk, 5/26/2016).

           

God hears her cry and answers her prayers in the person of Elijah.

           

We move forward in time to find ourselves hearing a story about another grieving widow.  Those experiencing the way Jesus interacts with the widow from Nain most likely would have noticed the compassion he expresses as he sees her grief.  Luke only uses the specific word describing the compassion felt by Jesus in three places – here and in the parables of the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son.  The compassion Jesus feels here is the same as that felt by the Samaritan for the man left alongside the road, wounded nearly to death.  It is the same compassion the father feels for his returning son, racing out to embrace him before the son ever reaches home to ask for forgiveness (William Sanger Campbell, Feasting on the Gospels: Luke, volume 1, p. 191).  

Those observing Jesus understand the Torah teaching about the command to care for the poor and the widowed – both of which are realities for this woman.  Upon reflection, perhaps many of the onlookers recall the story of Elijah and the widow of Zarephath, and see in Jesus a reenactment of God’s great deeds done through the prophets in days long past – they even proclaim that a great prophet – perhaps as great as Elijah – is among them in Jesus.  They begin to wonder if perhaps God can do a new thing in a new age.  They begin to understand that the proper response to pain and suffering is compassion – and that the proper expression of compassion is action centered in mercy.

Let’s be honest – we don’t experience people being raised from the dead like the sons of the two widows in today’s stories.  Or do we?  Perhaps some of the medical marvels we experience as day-to-day in the twenty-first century are our experiences of God’s power to heal acted out through the breakthroughs in science that never existed before.  Sometimes we are given back children, parents, spouses, and friends from what was something as sure as death.  Perhaps we can understand what the psalmist means when he proclaims that “joy comes in the morning.”

As the poet Rilke tells us, “Deep in the darkness is God,” (Rainer Maria Rilke, Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God, p. 109).  As Elijah and Jesus were present with the widows in each of our stories this morning, God is present with us in the midst of our deepest darkness.  When I am at my lowest, God sends me you – to be God’s presence with me – to be the compassion and love of God that is with us always.  This is what we do for one another.  We find ways of being present with and for one another in the midst of the weeping, so that we might be present with and for one another when the morning dawns and our sorrows turn to dance.

When we choose to follow Jesus – when we choose to claim his name to describe who we are to this world – Christians – then we must choose to live as Jesus.  And I realize how daunting that sounds!  How can I – how can we – live like Jesus?  It is too hard to do!  Look what it cost him!  That’s too high a price – too high a price! 

When we choose to follow Jesus we must open ourselves to the compassion that Jesus shows in today’s story from Luke – we must open ourselves to the compassion Elijah shows the widow from Zarephath – we must open ourselves to the compassion the loving father shows to the prodigal son while he is still far off – we must open ourselves to the compassion the Samaritan felt and showed as he gave of himself – gave of his own resources – to care for the stranger left for dead alongside of the highway.

And if we are to live with the compassion of Jesus that means living with the desire to make all things new: where there is despair, we bring hope; where there is anger and hatred, we bring the love of God; where there is weeping and death, we bring life! Weeping may indeed “spend the night,” as the psalmist proclaims in the midst of exile, “but joy comes in the morning” (30:6).  Because “deep in the darkness, [keeping watch along with us, deep – even in the darkness - deep in the darkness] is God.”