Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Cattails

Lectionary: 90


Elijah went to Zarephath of Sidon to the house of a widow. The son of the mistress of the house fell sick, and his sickness grew more severe until he stopped breathing.
So she said to Elijah, “Why have you done this to me, O man of God? Have you come to me to call attention to my guilt and to kill my son?”


Often, when disaster strikes, people wonder if they are being punished for their sins. Certainly the catastrophe is punishing, as in brutal and unrelenting; and more often than not, if it is punishment, it seems out of all proportion to one's sins. 

I have to admire the "widow of Zarephath" who turned upon the fearsome Elijah when her son died. We should understand that Elijah was the most savage of all the prophets of Israel. He called down fire several times to destroy the soldiers who came to arrest him. He personally cut the throats of five hundred priests of Baal. Centuries later mothers would scare their children into good behavior by threatening to call down Elijah upon them.

But if men feared him, this grieving woman did not. She knew her right to call upon the compassion of God.

The story of the widow of Zarephath is echoed by a story about a pious Shunammite woman (a story sadly truncated by our lectionary.) She too did not take grief lying down but demanded of Elisha, an equally fierce prophet, the revival of her dead son.

So we should not be surprised to hear of Jesus' raising of the widow's son at Naim. God's compassion for poor widows (and orphans) is well-known to the student of scripture. It matters not whether they are Jewish or gentile, they are beloved of God.

And should hold a place of honor in the Christian church. Saint Paul gave his disciple Timothy careful instructions about the care of "real widows," those who had no other resource but the kindness of the Church. Apparently he expected his churches to do more than pass the hat. They provided for them. That may have included housing and living expenses; and the widows, in turn, prayed continually night and day for the Church. This was a seminal form of religious life as we know it today -- especially today as our consecrated religious men and women age.

After the murder of Abel, Cain impudently demanded of God, "Am I my brother's keeper?" Yes, we are responsible for one another, and we are judged by how well we care for the neediest, most vulnerable among us.

Working at the VA hospital, I see how the American people attempt to care for the medical needs of our Veterans, including their psychological and spiritual needs, and I am very grateful to be a part of this effort, despite it inadequacies.

But this work reminds me that everyone has the right to rely on her and his fellow Christians and fellow citizens for help in time of need. If that means higher taxes and less disposable income, so be it. The Father of Jesus and the Son who died for us and their Holy Spirit expect no less.

Cattails by night