Seeing the world through God's eyes

Proper 5-C; June 6, 2010
1 Kings 17:8-24; Ps. 146; Galatians 1:11-24; Luke 7:11-17

Death comes in many forms: the gradual death from sickness or old age. The violent death of war, of gunshots on the street on hot summer nights, of crimes of passion or anger. The accidental deaths of children dying too young, tragically before their parents. The cruel, lingering death that comes from famine, poverty, drought. The death of the spirit, that comes from a broken heart, or a profound disappointment, of promises lost or hopes waylaid.

We fear all of these kinds of death, and more, and many parts of the world in which we live are gripped by that fear of death. Paralyzed, people shut off all possibilities of change, all hope that anything could be any different than the way it is now.

One way we indulge in the fear of death is by remaining isolated, singular. We alone have faith in God who has a personal relationship only with us, like we are at the bottom of a long tube. The rest of the world doesn’t really matter, when we live in that kind of fear, that masquerades as faith. If it is just about me and Jesus, well, what is happening in, say the Gulf of Mexico right now is not my concern; there is nothing I can do about it, so hey? A neighborhood like this is not my concern, not if I don’t live here. People coming to lunch at the Table are not my concern, nor are victims of drive-by shootings, or people trapped by addiction or alcohol. The foreclosure crisis doesn’t affect me, nor the stock market’s ups and downs, unless I have an investment portfolio.

The society we live in reinforces that life of fear, and if we remain captive to that ungodly fear of death, then no, there is nothing we can do about all those things swirling around us. Walk by the body of that dead man being carried out; don’t even get too close for fear of contamination.

If we see the world through God’s eyes, however, we see things very differently. We feel things very differently. We feel compassion, and that compassion causes us to act, and through that action, the circle of our self widens out into the world, the great world God has made, and for whom God has endless compassion.

Scholars believe that this letter that St. Paul wrote to the Galatians came early in his career. Reading Galatians, we encounter a wild and enthusiastic man, burning with the spirit and passionate about this Gospel that is so new and life-giving to him. Paul has turned away from a life that dealt in death, and remember, was struck blind, until Jesus came to him. From that moment on, he saw the world through God’s eyes, a world that needed all the welcoming embrace and Good News that it could get.

Our first and last stories from scripture illustrate that Good News, that view of the world through God’s eyes. In fact, Jesus himself cited this story from 1st Kings, of Elijah bringing the widow’s son back to life. Way back last winter, on the 3rd and 4th Sundays after the Epiphany,[i] we read about Jesus’ first sermon in the synagogue in his hometown, the one where he said he had come to bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind. Great, the people said; do it here. Heal us. Take care of us. No, he said, this prophecy, this work, is bigger than this hometown, bigger than our little world, our own concerns. He reminded them of Elijah, who brought back to life not someone from his own community, but a foreigner; Elijah saw the poor widow of Zarephath through God’s eyes, and saw that God’s compassion and new life must extend to her as well. This really made the people of Nazareth mad; they tried to throw him off a cliff.

So when Jesus brings another widow’s son back to life, this Elijah story must be in everyone’s mind. This is another poor widow, who will be bereft and condemned to a slow death without her son to support her. To touch a dead body would be the height of improper, impure behavior. Death, and fear, and loss, and grief: that is the way the world works, and everyone would think that Jesus should just leave this situation alone.

But remember: Jesus sees the world through God’s eyes, with compassion for the suffering widow. When he raises her son, she too is restored to wholeness. No longer caught in that no place of grief, that tunnel vision of fear, she is now fully restored to her place, as mother, as a productive member of her community.

Jesus healed many people, brought people back to life, gave sight to the blind and set the captives free – but not literally each captive. Surely there were thousands of people Jesus did NOT walk by, and thousands more who only heard about what Jesus was doing, very like we only hear about what Jesus did, sitting here two thousand years later.

But what Jesus and Elijah and Paul, and the Psalmist, want us to know is that Jesus does not have to rub mud on us for us to see the world through God’s eyes. Our dead bodies don’t have to be brought back to life in order to believe in God’s compassion. Letting go of our own fear, and of the hold the fear of death has over us, is enough. You and I may not literally be able to raise people from the dead, but we are called to be conduits of God’s grace.[ii] We are called to see the world through God’s eyes, to see it with the compassion with which God sees it – all of it: this neighborhood, the friends and strangers who come to lunch, the people who have moved to this town from all over the world and who find this city a place of hope and new life.

We are not here to care only for ourselves in this church; indeed, if we did nothing in this neighborhood, did not support the Table, did not work to tear down blighted buildings and create a better, more beautiful block, if we did not work the political system, and raise money, then no, God would not be pleased with us. We would not be seeing the world, and this neighborhood, and these people around us, with God’s eyes.

But we cannot stop here, rest on our laurels of good works. Like that young man who was dead, let us sit up and rub out eyes and begin to speak of compassion and mercy and welcome. There is so much more to do.

[i] Luke 4:16-30
[ii] Susanna Metz, http://www.episcopalchurch.org/sermons_that_work_86242_ENG_HTM.htm