“Young man, I say to you, get up!” He is somehow authoritative and loving at the same time; wielding the tone and affection your father would use to steer you away from danger. Suddenly the weigh shifts in the bier upon your shoulders and you nearly topple from the unexpected nature of it. Dead boys don’t speak but it seems the widow’s deceased son is sitting up and having a conversation with this strange teacher. Good glory, what just happened?