Luke 7:1-17

Our lesson this morning tells two stories. They are pretty different from one another. In the first one, a Roman centurion hears about Jesus and sends some Jewish elders to ask Jesus to heal a “highly valued slave.” The elders appeal to Jesus by saying that the centurion is worthy of the help, that he loves the Jewish people, and that he built the synagogue. And Jesus goes with them. But before he gets there, the centurion sends some friends out to Jesus to say that Jesus should not trouble himself. He says, through his friends, that he is not worthy to have Jesus come under his roof, which is why he did not come to Jesus himself. Then, out of the mouths of his friends, come these words: “But only speak the word, and let my servant be healed.” He finishes by telling Jesus that he himself is both under the authority of others and one who himself has authority.

The text says, “When Jesus heard this, he was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd that followed him, he said, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” Jesus was amazed – amazed at the faith of a Roman centurion.

Let’s ponder this for a moment. When the Jewish elders first approached Jesus, they basically talked up this centurion, saying what a good guy he has been and how he loves the Jewish people. Jesus is not amazed. He is willing, and he goes with them. But he is not amazed. And when he hears the message from the centurion about not being worthy, and about how he just wants Jesus to speak a word of healing, well, that amazes Jesus. Jesus is amazed by the faith of one who obviously understands authority and power, and one who is willing to humbly ask this Jewish teacher and prophet for help.

Remember, folks – the Romans were the occupying force in Israel. Technically, this centurion had all kinds of authority over all of the Jews, including Jesus. But he says to Jesus, “I am not worthy to have you come under my roof… but only speak the word, and let my servant be healed.” Understanding that he himself did not have the power to heal the slave that he valued so highly, he turned to one whom he believed did have the power. And this – this is the faith that amazed Jesus.

The second story takes place away from the big city of Capernaum, in the small town of Nain. As he and his disciples, along with the large crowd that was with him, approach the gate of the town, they observe a funeral procession that is taking place. The text says that the man who had died was his mother’s only son and that she was a widow.

No one asked Jesus for help. No one was sent to plead with him to raise the man from the dead and restore him to his mother. No one pleaded with Jesus on behalf of the widow whose only son had died, making her a woman with virtually no status or power in that social order. No one. Not one person with either of the two large crowds. Maybe the large crowd with Jesus had not yet noticed her and her situation; maybe the large crowd with her had not noticed Jesus or somehow had not heard of the things he was doing. In any case, no one asked anything of Jesus.

But when he saw the woman, he had compassion for her. The Greek word translated here as compassion is splagchnizomai, which comes for the word, splagchna, which means intestines. This is quite literally a gut-wrenching feeling. Jesus feels the suffering of this woman in his own gut. Have you ever felt the suffering of another person this deeply… in your own gut? (pause) It’s hard to ignore. It motivates us to some kind of action on behalf of the one who is suffering.

Jesus’ compassion motivates him to raise this woman’s son from death. He says to the woman, “Do not weep,” and then he touches the platform holding the body and says to the man, “Young man, I say to you, rise!” The man begins to speak. He sits up. All are seized with fear; they glorify God; and word about Jesus spreads even further.

Jesus’ compassion motivates a miracle. Compassion arises when life meets death, when hope and suffering come together. This is the first of three places in Luke’s gospel where he uses this specific Greek word for compassion: a gut-wrenching feeling of the suffering of another. The second is in the parable of the Good Samaritan, and the third is in the parable of the Prodigal Son, as the father runs out to meet his returning son.

When Jesus felt compassion, he did not reach down from above and lift people up. Jesus chose to enter the suffering. Jesus opened himself to pain, rejection, persecution, and death. As one of the commentaries that I read this week said, “Real compassion, as embodied by Jesus, runs counter to our culture’s constant call to succeed, to impress, to be effective. Real compassion is a call to suffer with the powerless.”

So, we have heard two stories today, two very different stories. In one, a man with much worldly power humbly asks Jesus for healing, not for himself, not even for a child or spouse, but for a slave. He asks, believing in Jesus’ power to heal, even from a distance. And Jesus, amazed by his faith, does heal the slave. In the other story, no one asks Jesus for anything. A widow, who has become even more powerless with the death of her son, stirs compassion in Jesus – stirs up gut-wrenching suffering in him – and he chooses to restore her son’s life, and therefore her place within society. He acts out of compassion for one who never even asked for his help.

Jesus heals, not because of who we are or how we ask or whether we ask or whether we have a lot of faith or a little faith, but because of who he is. Jesus heals and restores us not because of who we are but because of who he is. And we don’t even need to ask, or know what to ask.

Last week, Pastor John asked us to think about, to imagine, what a God-shaped life would look like. As a part of the answer, we heard about having a full-service life: not a life in which we receive full service, but rather a life in which we give full service to others. In previous weeks, we heard about going deep and walking wet, which were ways of characterizing our walk in this world as we follow Jesus, as we become more and more like Jesus.

And as we follow Jesus, learning from him and becoming more like him, may we feel compassion – deep, gut-wrenching compassion – for those who suffer, and may we enter into their suffering, learn from them what they need, and offer up our lives in service (full service) to others.