October 11th, 2026: Sermon on the Raising of the Widow's Son, Luke: Fr. Daniel York

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and

of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Earlier in St. Luke's

Gospel, the Lord makes mention of the many widows

in Israel in the days of Elijah, when the land

went without rain for three and a half years

as a great famine ravaged the land. the Lord

only sent Elijah to Zarephath, a Phoenician city

in the land of Sidon, a Gentile city on the outskirts,

to visit a woman who was a widow, whose son dies

right in the presence of Elijah, only to be raised

again by the prophet's prayers. The Lord himself

today visits another widow, this time in Nine,

a city in the north in Galilee, about five miles

south of Nazareth. And he witnesses a funeral

procession for a young man who has just died,

being carried out visibly on the funeral here.

as a crowd processes around him and his mother,

whose only son, whose only begotten son, technically,

whose only son has just departed her, and she

is a widow, which means she has no economical

or financial support left, no husband to support

her, no son. To help her. No family. No lifeline.

In time, as everyone knows who's been widowed

in this life, this crowd will leave her alone.

And she will be left to face her sorrow and sit

with her helplessness by herself. It's here.

It's here the first time in St. Luke's Gospel.

that Luke himself, the narrator, calls Jesus

the Lord, the Lord, styling him with the very

name of Israel's God. When the Lord saw her,

he had compassion on her. That same compassion

he spoke about last week, the compassion of the

God of Israel, his own fathers. very character,

in solidarity with his Father as his image and

word, his mouthpiece, that compassion moves him

to act in mercy. Do not weep. Do not weep. And

he stops the procession, touches the coffin,

and exclaims, Young man, I say to you, arise!

His compassion. confronts death itself. And death

cannot withstand it. Death has no chance or power

against it. And just like that, the corpse sits

up and starts to speak. And Jesus gives him to

his mother. That line is significant as it repeats

exactly the exact same words, the exact same

sentence. Word for word, what Elijah does after

he raises the widow's son in 1 Kings, he gives

him back to his mother and thus restores her

dignity. She will not be alone in this life.

Recalling the same fear that seized Simon Peter

two weeks ago, fear now seizes everyone present

as they glorify God. realizing that they've encountered

someone otherworldly among them. A great prophet

has arisen among them, shouting the words Moses

spoke all the way back in Deuteronomy, that the

Lord will raise up a prophet like himself for

Israel. And yet, someone greater than a prophet

is here. For Elijah had to pray three times.

And Elijah had to perform a ritual. He had to

stretch himself over the dead boy three times.

And the Lord had to respond. All Jesus had to

do was open his mouth and speak life and victory.

God has visited his people, the people exclaimed.

The second line is particularly striking. it

repeats Zechariah's words, the father of St.

John the Baptist, Zechariah's words at the beginning

of Luke's Gospel. The Lord has visited and redeemed

his people. In the compassionate mercy of God,

the Orient, or the sunrise from on high, shall

visit us, or shall dawn upon us. But it's shall

visit us, the same word. it recalls the promises

in Genesis and Exodus of God visiting his people,

that he will hear their groans, that he will

hear their cries, that he will see their affliction,

and he will draw near to them, that he will come

down and descend to their level, and he will

reside with them, among them, among them. Jesus

himself will use it later. in Luke's Gospel,

lamenting the sadness of Jerusalem's inability

to receive him. You did not know the time of

your visitation. God, God in resurrectional power

and life is among his people. God is among us.

We sing that a lot liturgically. God is with

us, very grandiose, very powerfully. During nativity

season in Lent. But what does it mean for us?

However, theologically we dress it up. Here it

means that God, in his compassion and love for

mankind, meets us in whatever circumstances that

might befall us. Death, widowhood, fatherlessness,

sickness, disease. Debilitation, our bodies breaking

down. Whatever way death tries to affect us and

gain a foothold over us and seems like it is

gaining ground, it cannot withstand the Lord's

presence and power. This morning's epistle reading

helps us here because I think it's easy for us

to look at a passage like this gospel text and

think, Well, if I'm going to be honest, that's

not happening to me. I don't sense this power

or compassion toward me in this way. The Lord

isn't taking death away from me. The Lord isn't

bringing back my husband to me. The Lord isn't

bringing back my son to me. The Lord isn't healing

my body. The Lord isn't taking the encroachments

of death away from him. And we get St. Paul speaking

about himself in the third person. Really, one

of the craziest texts in the entire Bible. Speaking

about himself in the third person. About visions,

about revelations of the Lord being caught up

into the third heavens. into paradise itself,

hearing the utterances of the angelic powers

that surround and sing ceaselessly around God.

That Paul says these aren't even allowed to be

repeated. They aren't even allowed to be uttered.

The apostles suffused with the divine life. And

yet, despite this, these great experiences, these

great visions, this great encounter with paradise.

In this life, the Lord sends him, gives him in

the flesh, the Lord, a messenger of Satan, to

debilitate him. Scholars have spilled so much

ink in vain trying to discern what this means.

There have been countless books written on it.

But I think Paul keeps the meaning intentionally

veiled and vague because he wants us, brothers

and sisters, to relate to him. It could be anything,

this debilitation. It could be anything that

keeps us down, that pulls us and brings us toward

death or feeling like we're closer to him. And

Paul pleads three times with the Lord. Three,

this is a number of fullness. Technically speaking,

I mean, he could have pled and begged more, but

he means three as in he pled in fullness. He

begged the Lord in fullness. This widow doesn't

plead with the Lord. She doesn't even ask anything

from the Lord. Paul pleads three times that it

should leave him, but it doesn't. But the Lord

says something to him, something that recalls

last week's gospel text about grace, about grace,

that life, activity, and energy of God in him.

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power

is made perfect in weakness. It's remarkable.

That's what Paul shares with the Corinthian.

I wonder if we would have had this experience

like Paul, what would we have done? Would we

have shared just those words or would we have

kind of fronted ourselves, these visions? I can't

wait to tell you about my revelations. Some of

us come here and think the Orthodox life is like

some sort of like mystical solipsism that we

exist in, bounce around the walls, kind of close

our eyes. I don't know. This mysticism for Paul

is very real. It's very cross -centric. It's

a debilitation. It's pain. It's struggle. Paul

shares these words with the Corinthians. My grace

is sufficient for you. Because it isn't miracles,

utterances, visions, or revelations that will

build the Corinthians up and encourage them to

keep. facing the difficulties of life. If anything,

the visions, the revelations, and all these things,

they will only draw a larger wedge between Paul

and them. That they are not at all like Paul,

since they have not been caught up in the third

heavens. And I don't think you have, neither

have I, I can tell you that. Paul, Paul shares

the Lord's own words. that are tangible and allowed

to be uttered and heard. The Lord's grace, his

compassion, that's what he's allowed to utter

before the Corinthians and before all of us.

My grace is sufficient for you. My grace is sufficient

for you. For my power is made perfect in weakness.

And so whatever we are facing, we can ask that

question from last week. What grace is it to

me? How is it that my weakness and nearness to

death can somehow become a conduit of the Lord's

grace, power, and life to me? That death in my

life, in whatever form it meets me, can be redeemed

through God's visitation in my life. The fact...

that God is really, in fact, among me and in

me. The power of Christ rests upon me. The resurrection

himself, the life, the power, the wisdom, the

word of God. Jesus Christ has gripped our lives

and faced our deaths. He has endured the cross

for us. He has trampled down death by death.

We need to celebrate this fact, not just on Pascha,

but on every Lord's Day. Christ has yelled a

resounding yes against death's no. Against all

the forces of evil, Christ has triumphed over

death. Over all of its decay, over all of its

minions, over all messengers of Satan, Christ

has taken it captive, and he holds the keys of

death and Hades, and he can bring to life back

whoever he wants. And should we die, and we will,

that death, because of his life -giving power

and energy, will simply be the means, the very

instrument by which we meet him face to face

and be lifted up into the third heavens, paradise

itself, to hear those angelic powers utter things

that cannot be uttered in this world, that surround

him and constantly sing, holy, holy, holy, he

has trampled down death by death. Full stop is

compassion and love. has squelched it. He has

emptied its power and enabled us to face anything,

anything and everything in our lives. Who then

can be against us? What then can truly stand

against us, brothers and sisters, if death itself

cowers at the face and presence of Christ? Amen?