A woman's only son dies. She is a widow, which, in that culture, meant that without a husband (remember, he had died) and now without a son, she had nothing. No claim to property. No claim to family. She was alone and, now, either homeless or, for the rest of her life, at the mercy of people's charity and mercy.

On the way to her son's burial outside of town, Jesus--a total stranger to her--sees the woman, has compassion on her, and says, “Don't cry.”

Don't cry. You’ve got to be kidding me! This woman’s world has just been destroyed and Jesus’ words to her are, “Don't cry”?

In the year 2,000, writer Barbara Ehrenreich was diagnosed with breast cancer. Immediately, she was inundated with pink ribbons and, she writes, other “bits of cuteness and sentimentality.”

Ehrenreich is not a person normally associated with pink ribbons and others bits of cuteness and sentimentality. Her best known book, Nickel and Dimed, is about the year she spent traveling the county, trying to survive the same way hundreds of thousands of Americans try to survive: by working long hours and multiple jobs at minimum wage; jobs like waitressing, cleaning, and cashiering.

Ehrenreich is tough. So the normal reaction of people to her breast cancer--teddy bears, pink ribbons, and sentimentality--struck her as odd and unhelpful.

It got worse. On an internet bulletin board for people with breast cancer Ehrenreich posted an item titled Angry! about the way she felt about the effects of chemotherapy on her body. “Suzy” wrote back to take issue with Ehrenreich’s “bad attitude” and warned that “it’s not going to help you in the least.” “Kitty” urged her to “run, not walk, to some counseling.”

What was going on? These--and other--experiences of butting up against America’s relentless spirit of optimism led Ehrenreich to publish her latest book, Bright-Sided, How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America.

When I was 15 years old my father gave me a list of some 20 books, all classics of positive thinking. For every book I would read and report on that list, Dad would pay me $10, a huge sum in those days.

I was raised on positive thinking. One of the points of Ehrenreich’s book is that, whether we realize it or not, all of us have, in effect, also been raised on positive thinking. It’s in the water we drink and the air that we breathe.

It’s what makes America, America! Our optimism--our “can do” attitude--is the envy of the rest of the world. But, says Ehrenreich, there is a dark side to our optimism. And she, at least, thinks this dark side of our optimism is undermining America.

I’ll give you one more example, one quite close to home for us. Ehrenreich visited the nation’s largest church, Joel and Victoria Osteen’s Lakewood Church in Houston, Texas. While there, she heard the preacher audaciously suggest that Christians should ask God for help in getting seated in a crowded restaurant (“Father, I thank you that I have favor with this hostess, and she’s going to seat me soon”).

That may be positive thinking. And employing the preacher’s techniques might even get you a seat in a crowded restaurant. But, Ehrenreich wonders, what does any of this have to do with genuine Christian values? Values like “turn the other cheek” or “not my will but think be done”?

I agree. And that brings us back to today’s readings. Jesus is on the outskirts of the town of Nain when he runs into a funeral procession for a widow’s only remaining child, a son. With the death of the woman’s son and the earlier death of her husband, what that means to means to that woman in this culture, is not just a broken heart. It also means the death of whatever hope she had left. From now on, she would homeless, propertyless, and hopeless. From now on, she would have nothing.

Jesus sees her, has compassion on her, and says to her, “Don’t cry.”

Don’t cry? Get real, Jesus! Will not crying make things better for her? Will having a positive attitude give her hope, a home, and a future?

Nonetheless, Jesus says, “Don’t cry,” to her and then he does this. He walks over to the dead man’s coffin and says, “Young man! Get up, I tell you!” With that, the dead man sat up and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother.

A book I’m reading with a group here says that Christian life, at its best, must be real and it must be relational. Optimism that has no basis in reality is a false hope. Christianity must be based on real hope.

But what is real hope? Is it authentic Christian hope and optimism to approach a harried hostess in an overcrowded restaurant thinking, “Father, I thank you that I have favor with this hostess, and she’s going to seat me soon”? Or, for that matter, is it authentic to be without hope in this world and, nonetheless, be told, “Don’t cry”?

Let’s get real. Let’s talk about real hope. In today’s second reading Paul thunders, “Know this—I am most emphatic here, friends—this great Message I delivered to you is not mere human optimism. I didn’t receive it through the traditions, and I wasn’t taught it in some school. I got it straight from God, received the Message directly from Jesus Christ.”

Jesus brings hope to the hopeless. Jesus brings life to the dead. Jesus makes promises that he can--and does--keep.
But Christianity is not a blank check! Christianity is not our Daddy in heaven giving us his credit card and promising to pay our bills for us.

To be clear--to be crystal clear--Christianity is not the power of positive thinking to get our own sweet way in life: “Father, I thank you that I have favor with this hostess, and she’s going to seat me soon!”

But let’s get real. Christianity is a message of hope, of healing, and of promise for those whose hands are empty enough to receive it. Jesus not only told the widow of Nain to stop crying. He gave her a reason for it. He returned her dead son’s life to her.

This is not mere human optimism! This is God entering history--the real history of real people--and helping them. You can ask for this sort of help. You can hope for this sort of help. But you can also help give this sort of help.

Get real. Christianity isn’t meant to be a blank check. Jesus didn’t give up his life simply so that life could be better for you and you alone. He died for all! He gave his life for all. And he asks that we do the same!

Each of us have opportunities and occasions when we can give hope and life to others. My God, just listening--just stopping and listening--to others can be healing and hopeful! So can honesty. So can being real.

Christianity is not mere human optimism. It is God-shaped hope. In Jesus’ name. Amen!