St. Charles' Episcopal Church – St. Charles, IL

The Second Sunday After Pentecost – Proper 5 – Year C

Sunday June 10, 2007 

1 Kings 17:17-24 – Psalm 30:1-6, (7-11), 12-13 – Galatians 1:11-24 – Luke 7:11-17

Rev. William R. Nesbit, Jr.

In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

“You have come to me to bring my sin to remembrance, and to cause the death of my son!”

As I read this passage this week it all came flooding back to me. It happened in a hospital room just over 10 years ago. As a first year seminary student I was spending my summer in the hospital as a chaplain, doing my required twelve week term of CPE, clinical pastoral education. Among other things, CPE is where the sharp edges of book learned theology are ground smooth by the pastoral realities of life and death. As I walked into that hospital room I knew only two things. The patient was a 28 year old male named John, and he was dying of cancer. Walking into the room I saw that John used to be a strapping young man. There was little left of him now. A fifty-ish woman sat at his bedside in silence as the unconscious young man struggled for breath. I introduced myself, but neither of them responded. The woman continued to stare into space at nothing in particular. Not knowing what to do, I pulled up a chair and sat down next to the woman. God gave me the strength to keep my mouth shut, as you know, not one of my greater gifts! After what seemed to me like hours, the woman spoke with a dry voice, “It’s all my fault. God is taking my boy from me because I didn’t want him.”

I could tell by her voice she had no tears left to cry. I didn’t know what else to say, so I asked her why she felt that way.

As time lurched ahead she told me her story, the story of a young wife pregnant with her first child.

She knew in her heart that the child would be girl. It’s what she wanted more than anything else, to have a baby girl. In the delivery room, exhausted after labor, when they told her it was a baby boy

she cried, “No, I don’t want it. I want a girl, it’s supposed to be a girl.” Soon she overcame her disappointment, and she always loved John, but they never had another child and occasionally she would wish she had had a girl. Now she was sure that God was punishing her for her sin. As I listened my heart broke for her. I don’t remember exactly what I said to her, but I hope it helped her. That is the curse of chaplaincy; your interaction with people is so brief that you rarely know how you’re doing. It’s like casting seed from a moving train. No way to know if it even sprouts, let alone grows to fruition.

Anyway, memory has a funny way of clouding the facts, but remembering the emotions. As I read again the story of the Widow of Zarephath I found myself in the middle of that memory, holding the hand of a women who had no tears left to cry as I cried for her and tried to remind her that God is a God of abundance. That even though life is a gift that has limits, God shares that gift abundantly, even recklessly. I’ll never know what became of that woman in the hospital room, but the Widow of Zarephath gives me hope.

Though we didn’t hear that part of the story this morning, when we first meet the Widow of Zarephath she is in dire straits. Elijah has been sent to her by God to be fed during a great drought. When Elijah first meets her and asks her to make him some food, she says she is about to use up the last ingredients she has and then she and her son are going to starve to death. But Elijah tells her, Do not be afraid.

Your jar of meal and your jug of oil will not fail until the drought is over. He brings word of God’s abundance to her, as well as new life for her and her son throughout the drought.

Because of all this, you would have thought she would have gotten the picture before we even met her this morning, but she is just like you and me. It is easy to take the credit for God’s abundance when thing are going well, and it’s hard when things aren’t. It’s easy to blame God when things are going bad, and it’s hard to give God the credit when they’re going good. There is so much power and opportunity that comes with being made in the image of God. It is so easy to forget that we are not God, only made in the image of God.

When her son dies the Widow of Zarephath quickly forgets her good fortune and blames Elijah, and in a way I suppose, herself. Elijah though, does not forget, and knowing God’s abundance he asks if this death is truly God’s will. Three times Elijah cries out to the Lord and at last the boy is revived. With this the Widow finally says, Now I know that what you say about God is the truth. We hope it is a word she will not soon forget. Would that we could all find this truth without having to take the journey that the Widow of Zarephath took.

In our Gospel this morning we see a deeper truth still. We see that thought the hard journey may be the journey we take, it is not necessary in Gods eyes. Honest tears are all it takes to move God’s compassion. The Widow of Nain did not ask for help, and she did not blame anyone for her misfortune. She only wept at the loss of her only Son. It was more than enough to engage the passionate abundance of God. And still the people who were right there didn’t get it. They shout out, “God has looked favorably on his people,” forgetting that God always looks favorably on his people. All God’s people. God the Father is always ready with loving-kindness to answer our prayers. God the Son is always moving in our midst watching to answer the prayers we cannot put into words. And God the Holy Spirit is always brooding over us, perfecting even our meekest efforts. When you think you have been treated unfairly by God, remember the Widow of Zarephath and look back in your life

for those jars of meal and jugs of oil you have been given for times of drought. Seek out the Elijah in your life whom you can trust to speak to you the words of truth. And when you don’t even have the strength to do that, remember the Widow of Nain and know that even if all you can do is cry, that is enough because those tears mingle with God’s. You are never alone, and never unloved. God is always a heartbeat away.

Amen.