Tuesday of the Twenty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time
To become a widow during Jesus’ time must have been a terrifying thing. If, like most women in Jesus’ time, you had no independent income or way to make one, you were incredibly vulnerable. Perhaps your extended family would support you. But what if they couldn’t?
The woman in the text from Luke for today has already suffered the loss of her husband and has undoubtedly learned what it means to live without the man who, in such a patriarch culture, provides the promise of a decent life, respect, and protection. Now, she is facing a second unbearable loss—that of her only son. Her son, the text indicates, was a “man” and so an adult male who likely had taken on the role of her husband in providing her with some kind of income, a place in the community, and safety from those who might want to take advantage of her.
She is distraught. And understandably so. Perhaps she felt that her own life was over. That, like her son, she too was dead or as good as dead.
When Jesus arrives on the scene, he appears to understand all this in an instant—her vulnerability, her fear, her loss, her desperation. And he tells her not to weep. An impossible command in a moment like this. When all appears lost, how can we not weep? How can we not ourselves get lost in complete despair?
The feeling that all is lost or that this one more loss is more than one can bear is not unique to this widow. Not by any means. Many of us (all of us?) have had an experience like this. My first came when I was just in my twenties, and I finally came fully faced the fact that my young mother (she was just in her late 50s) was dying. Everything turned dark. I could not see into the abyss I was facing. I was lost.
Jesus tells the widow not to weep because he knows what he is about to do (a first for him, so the commentaries say). He resuscitates the widow’s son. Jesus brings him back to life.
While Jesus has never returned me from the dead, I can honestly say that he has brought me back from the abyss, from utter darkness, and hopelessness. He can do that.
Amen.
- Sue Trollinger