When it comes to feasts, fasts and sacraments of the Church – her many and varied disciplines – such things are often viewed erroneously as disjointed observances to be followed dutifully in the Name of Christ. Not infrequently, it goes unnoticed that almost everything of the Church is ultimately connected to everything else: one event or discipline touches another; millions of saints throughout the centuries become siblings in the one “household of God” (Eph. 2:19). The life of the Church is a beautiful, living, spiritual mosaic, to be received with great joy and gratitude.
Scripture itself – God’s written Word – is understood in a similar fashion: connections everywhere. The Old Testament, for instance, pointing toward the New, with countless types and prophecies; the Bible as a whole, presenting a verbal Icon of Christ, from Genesis to the Book of Revelation.
Even specific events in the life of Christ are profoundly related. As accidental or fortuitous as they may sometimes appear, they should not be viewed as chance happenings. Jesus did not simply wake up each morning and say to Himself, “Let’s see what takes place during the next twelve hours. Could be interesting.” No. He had foresight. His teachings and encounters were deliberate as He guided people to salvation, preparing His disciples for the Cross, Tomb and Resurrection.
Take a brief Gospel lesson from Luke, chapter 7. Our Lord encountered a funeral; the only son of a widow had died. She now had no immediate family members to love, no one to care for her in her old age. She must have asked repeatedly, “What can I do, to whom will I turn, how can I make sense of all this, having lost both a husband and a child?” The Lord knew her pain, the agony of a mother losing a son. The sorrow, in fact, that Mary herself would experience at the Crucifixion.
Jesus did not wait for someone to intercede on the widow’s behalf. Luke tells us that Christ saw her and had compassion. He said, “weep not” (Lk. 7:13) and then offered the woman a most precious gift; her son, risen from the dead. How can one begin to imagine her joy; the shock and amazement of those standing nearby?
Here was no random occurrence, unrelated to previous or future events. Jesus undoubtedly foresaw the funeral procession in the city of Nain, just as He foresaw the death of His friend Lazarus and told the disciples that they must go to raise Lazarus from sleep (Jn. 11:11-14). And the raising of Lazarus, the raising of the widow’s son, along with the raising of Jairus’s daughter (Mk. 5:21-43), these three miracles of resurrection are related. They represent three successive stages of death. They prefigure Christ’s Own victory over death.
Jairus’s daughter, for instance, was still on her deathbed when Jesus approached. Her repose had just taken place. People were still getting used to the idea that this young girl had passed. The body undoubtedly was still warm.
The woman’s son, however, was beyond this initial stage. He was already being carried to his burial – cold in death – when the Lord came to offer comfort.
Lazarus, on the other hand, had long been dead: 4 days. His body was not simply cold, but in a state of decomposition. His own sister said, “Lord, by this time he stinketh” (Jn. 11:39). With Lazarus, Christ purposely waited for the right moment to come to the tomb, to perform what is sometimes called His greatest miracle.
These acts of compassion, however – when and why they took place – are all connected, although at first glance it may not be so apparent. They present an image of Jesus as the Lord of the living and the dead, having power over death at whatever stage it is encountered. And if that be the case, then we can certainly affirm His power over any and all sins we may commit, over passions afflicting us, at whatever level of influence or control.
Even so, such confidence comes and goes. People – even Christians – can sink so far into sin and delusion that they give up on hope: no one can help, so they think. Unfortunately, they fail to see in their own lives the connection between past experiences of deliverance and present circumstances. For my own well-being, I should consider these questions on a regular basis: “If Jesus saved me dozens of times throughout my life, and if I even vocalized that belief repeatedly over the years to myself and others, why would He not deliver me now? Why would He not show me the way out of this particular mess in which I find myself? What is really the source of my present state of doubt and confusion? Because it certainly has nothing to do with God’s desire and ability to protect my life as demonstrated by past experiences.”
Being aware of connections with the past is crucial. Related questions are necessary if we are to appreciate events and people brought into our lives that point the way to deliverance, just as we readily affirm a saving connection between individuals and happenings recorded throughout Scripture.
That is one lesson we can learn from the brief passage in Luke, chapter 7. The life of the Church and the Bible itself, are beautiful, living, spiritual mosaics, and so is our personal life. Connections everywhere. As Christ might say, “may we have the eyes to see and the ears to hear” the truth about such things (Mt. 13: 9,16-17).