People: Widow of Nain
Women and the Miraculous
Death is the final phase of the life cycle. As a healthcare chaplain, I regularly accompany patients and their families as they move through the thresholds between life and death. The finality of death is both humbling and holy, as death can help us to reframe what are our most important life priorities. My experience as a chaplain has shown me that facing the unknowns of life after the death of a loved one is what makes death a highly disorienting experience.
For those gathering the fragments of their life in the aftermath of death, grief’s intensity can be overwhelming. Part of the anguish of grief is the certainty that they will not see their loved ones again on earth. In the brief and bold encounter in Luke 7, a dead son is brought back to life, and he is returned to his mother, an unnamed widow from Nain, at her son’s funeral. It is important to name that this story is just as peculiar as it is miraculous, because of its brevity and the complex psychosocial responses it elicits for the readers of the text.
Little may be said in the face of death, but one can experience many emotions at the time of death and the moments following it. The text reveals that the widow of Nain is crying, but she never speaks a word (Luke 7:13); we are only aware that she is tearful and in active grief. In my ministry as a chaplain, I have held bereaved mothers in my arms as they wailed in anguish for their children to return to them, whole and healed. Notably, the story does not capture the fullness of the unnamed widow’s expression of grief. However, the indicators of the unnamed widow’s grief are documented in the text. The readers of Luke’s gospel learn that her only son (Luke 7:12) and her husband are dead. In a patrilineal society, being a widow and not having a male heir was akin to experiencing a social death. Widows were also extremely vulnerable to experiencing economic exploitation (Luke 4:25, 20:47), and thus, there are several mandates in Scripture to protect widows and rebuke those who seek to take advantage of them (Isaiah 10:2; Psalm 146:9; Malachi 3:5; Luke 18:1-7).
Before her son’s body is even laid into the ground, Jesus interrupted the funeral procession and commanded the young son to get up (Luke 7:14). The young son was miraculously raised back to life, and returned to his mother (Luke 7:15). Yet, her son’s resuscitation does not seem to restore the mother’s peace. Liminal spaces, such as death, are often spiritually malleable spaces that can be opportunities to experience God in a miraculous way. For everyone else who witnessed this encounter, it strikes a sense of awe and an awareness of Jesus’ prophetic powers (Luke 7:16). Furthermore, it could have been psychologically disruptive for her to not have the opportunity to complete the rituals of death alongside her community. I draw upon the wisdom of Toni Morrison here to name that “anything dead coming back to life hurts.”¹ Death hurts us because of the great sorrow left in the void of love. Unhelpful words or treating the bereaved with pity and not empathy, also wound those who are grieving.
It is notable that Jesus not only interrupted the funeral, but he interrupted the performance of pity at the funeral. Instead, Jesus touched the coffin (Luke 7:14) and spoke to the woman with compassion (Luke 7:13). These subtle details suggest that Jesus willingly accompanies us in the face of death and freely offers his compassionate heart to us. This funeral scene also becomes an encounter for a bereaved woman to experience the life-giving power and the compassionate heart of Jesus Christ. The seemingly obvious miracle of this text is that a human life is revived and a family is restored. Yet, I wonder if there is more to this miracle than we can see at first glance. To me, the miracle in Luke 7:11-16 raises an important question: what does it mean to be brought back to life?
The Gospel of Luke opens with stories of life by recounting the miraculous pregnancies of Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist and Mary, the mother of Jesus. Without a doubt, birth is a holy labor. Elizabeth and Mary’s birth stories in Luke demonstrate an overall trend of women being sensitive to the work of the Spirit within and around them (Luke 1:41-56, Luke 7:50, Luke 13:10-14, Luke 23:27-28). Notably in the book of Luke, Jesus does not ascribe worthiness to women based on their fertility or ability to raise a child. Jesus uplifts mothers and sees the fullness of their humanity beyond their role as a mother. In an encounter in Luke 11, the roles between Jesus and an unnamed woman are reversed. This time, Jesus is interrupted by an unnamed woman in a crowd who boldly says, “ ‘Blessed is the womb that bore you, and the breasts that nursed you!’ Rather, Jesus replied, ‘blessed are those who hear the word of God and obey it!’ ” (Luke 11:27-28). It is important to name all types of women encountered and testified to the life-giving presence of Jesus throughout his ministry (Luke 7:44-50, Luke 10:41), his death (Luke 23:27-28), and his resurrection (Luke 23:55-56).
As a physician, Luke utilizes the method of autopsy to methodically render the order of events in his gospel. Interestingly, the Greek word autopsia, from which we get the English word, autopsy, means to see for oneself. In the book of Luke, seeing for oneself is both an act of faith and a miracle in and of itself. Throughout the gospel of Luke, women have a particular lens and understanding of Jesus. Indeed, it is women who see and are seen by Jesus. Women are heard and hear Jesus. Women obey the word of God, not because of patriarchal obligation, but because their lives have been radically transformed by Jesus’ power and ministry. This mutual beholding shared between Jesus and women makes this gospel be good news for women. It is life-giving for the women in these stories to experience Jesus, especially as Jesus affirmed women for their miraculous way of clearly seeing him and others in their midst.
Miracles are not performed for women in Luke, but rather, miracles are performed with women and their wellbeing in mind. The type of miracles documented in Luke are often correlated with societal shame unduly ascribed to women. Elizabeth rejoices after she is freed from the social shame of being childless, as women in the first century were severely criticized for not having children (Luke 1:25). Mary consents to ushering in Jesus into the world and is freed from the social shame of birthing out of wedlock (Luke 1:38; Matthew 1:19). The unnamed woman’s sins are forgiven as she is freed of the social shame of ill repute (Luke 7:44-48). Another unnamed woman is healed of a sickness she had for nearly two decades, and she is freed from the shame of being isolated from her community (Luke 13:10-14). I believe these encounters also highlight how Jesus noticed women’s social vulnerability and liberated them from their prescribed social roles. Ultimately, this challenges us as readers to see the fullness of their personhood beyond the labels given to women in these texts.
Within the world of the text and in our world today, it can be argued that widows continue to be largely unseen and therefore, among the most vulnerable women in society. It is important to clearly name here that humans, not God, have created hierarchical systems of oppression where the bereaved and vulnerable can fall prey to social and financial ruin. According to Jesus’ account, there were many widows in Israel, especially during the time of Elijah’s ministry (Luke 4:25). Yet, in the gospel of Luke, widows are a group of women that are frequently lauded for their faith. Anna, a prophet and a widow, shared the prophetic message of Jesus’ arrival and participated in his baby presentation at the temple (Luke 2:38). Two other widows in Luke are also noted for their bold pursuit of justice (Luke 18:1-7) and radical generosity in the face of economic exploitation (Luke 21:1-2).
What these stories highlight is that the everyday act of being seen is miraculous to women and those who are accustomed to being marginalized. It matters that Luke 7 opens with Jesus healing the centurion’s servant from the upper echelon of society and then Jesus goes on to raise a widow’s son, from the lower echelon of society. There is something radically expansive and compelling to me about Jesus’ compassion in these Lukan narratives. Jesus himself engages in a type of liminality as he is neither bound to the systems of the world, nor does he ignore the lived realities of the people around him. Through his liberating love and compassion, Jesus offers another way of life that is truly healing for those who are receptive to him.
When I read the stories of the widows in Luke, I see the widow of Nain engaging in a type of autopsy that is radically different from the other widows featured in Luke. This woman is asked to see herself in real time and reflect on her life in the face of death. Although her son is restored to life, her status as a widow remains unchanged. There is no tidy ending to this miraculous story. There is so much mystery surrounding her interior self and there are many unknown details in her story in Luke. Yet, this encounter leads many people to declare, “God has come to help his people” (Luke 7:16). In Greek, the word used for help in this passage is episkeptomai, which in this context, means to go to see, or to look out for.
It matters that God sees us in the liminal space between life and death, and consistently chooses to respond to our needs with compassion and care. There are many women in Luke who witnessed the power of being seen by Jesus and being looked after by Jesus. This narrative demonstrates that God is in the details and God is with us when we navigate liminal spaces in our lives. Following this encounter with the widow of Nain, Jesus asks his cousin John’s disciples a powerful contemplative question three times: What did you go out to see? (Luke 7:24-26). I believe what we can learn from the widow of Nain is to be more curious about those in our midst. The question Jesus raised in Luke 7 gives followers of Christ an opportunity to engage in self-reflection about how we perceive and view others. What do we see when we look at this widow of Nain? Do we flatten the fullness of her existence and solely define her by what she lacks? How might a theology of curiosity help us to more faithfully see others as Jesus sees them?
What the widow of Nain teaches me is the importance of engaging our theological imaginations. Though her story is only six short lines in Luke’s gospel, there is more to her than what we can see. I strongly believe that when we see with Jesus’s eyes, we see clearly. When I pay attention to what Jesus pays attention to, I am challenged to see myself and others in a new light. Perhaps the greatest miracles are those that help us to see ourselves and others the way God sees us, raising us back into the fullness of life.
¹Toni Morrison, Beloved (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 35).
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tyler Brewington-Mathis is a board-certified healthcare chaplain with a speciality in women’s health. She is also an ordained American Baptist minister, writer, and a charismatic contemplative. She is currently pursuing her doctorate in ministry with a concentration in chaplaincy at the Candler School of Theology. Outside of academia and chaplaincy, Tyler is a proud Made for PAX fellow in the Contemplative Activism and Spiritual Formation cohort. Tyler was the recipient of the 2023 Frederick Buechner Award for Excellence in Academic Writing, and her writing has been featured in Fuller Magazine. She is also the author of I Cried Oceans: A Journey of Faith, Hope, and Resilience. Tyler lives in her hometown of Los Angeles, California with her husband and their toddler son.