Taking Notice

Luke 13:10-17

In the Gospel, we read about Jesus healing a woman who has been bent over for many years. … I knew this bent-over woman. Maybe you have known her too.

Ellen was an important woman in the congregation. She had been there forever, perhaps since childhood. She had served on council and committees. She was the one who turned off the lights on her way out of the church building.

Ellen had osteoporosis or some other condition that forced her back into a bent-over posture. I remember seeing her navigate the steps in the church by holding onto the rail and sort of spinning herself as she went up or down. Since it was an old 2-story building there were stairs, lots of stairs.

… Jesus notices the woman in our story. We don’t know anything about her, except that she was bent over, and that she belonged there. She was a regular part of the community, not some stranger who wandered in. The people in the synagogue knew her, knew her pain and discomfort. They knew how she missed standing upright and looking people in the eyes. They knew how she longed to see a sunrise or sunset or green fields as you and I see them, straight on.

Jesus knows this, too, and he calls to the woman and touches her. He tells her she is free of the spirit that has bound her body. And she is suddenly able to stand up. She praises God. She is probably pretty loud and excited about her praise and thanksgiving, because the leader of the synagogue notices the disruption. He accuses Jesus of working on the sabbath, which is forbidden.

Sabbath rules included not plowing or harvesting crops, walking no further than the distance from home to synagogue, not cooking meals. Even the servants and animals are supposed to rest on the sabbath, and the sabbath rules ensured that was true.

There are numerous places in the Hebrew scriptures and in the Mishnah, a commentary on the Scriptures, where sabbath regulations are described. In our first reading, the prophet Isaiah gives a nasty review of the way people have failed to observe the sabbath. Through Isaiah, God promises good things will come if the people return to obeying the commandments, including not working for money on the sabbath.

It’s in this spirit of listening to Isaiah that the leader of the synagogue chastises the people. He isn’t speaking directly to Jesus, although indirectly, of course, he is. “Come another day to be healed!” he scolds. “Don’t you understand that healing is work!?”

But, Jesus has a different opinion. “Why shouldn’t this woman be healed on the sabbath? Can’t you see that she is now free of the evil spirit that bound her body for so many years? Can’t you hear and see her praising God for this gift?” The crowd cheers for the woman, and hopes they can be healed, too.

… I am sure that the entire congregation would have cheered and praised God if Jesus had come and healed Ellen’s body. But that didn’t happen. She lived many years and continued to guide our congregation despite her bent-over body.

I could talk about many things at this point in the sermon, about healing, or about a concern with the letter of the law as opposed to the spirit of the law. But, I want to focus on a specific action Jesus did.

… He noticed the woman. He singled her out in the crowded space of the sanctuary. He called attention to her, and healed her. But, first, he had to notice her. What do we notice, in our daily lives? What do we try to not notice? So, a couple stories about noticing.

In about 1990 I was invited to attend a poverty immersion in Chicago with about 20 women. We went to several locations in the city that served people who were poor. Some went to a housing project, some went to a kitchen, some went to a school.

At night, we went to dinner at a Chinese restaurant. The portions were huge, and we all had leftovers. All but one of us declined a take-home box. Mary took her food and looked in the alleys as we walked back to the hotel. When she spotted a person sitting on the ground in the alley, she asked if they wanted her meal. Mary noticed there were hungry people near us in Chicago, and fed one of them! The rest of us noticed, but failed to act.

When we see people on street corners holding signs and begging, do we notice them? Or do we pretend not to see them? Probably both! Sometimes we turn our heads, and pretend to not see, and sometimes we hand them a bag of food from church.

What do we do with the injustices we notice? Many people complain to others, while some notify people who could potentially make changes. The #MeToo movement happened because too many women grew tired of being noticed in the wrong ways.

Occupy Wall Street happened because people noticed how many people have too little, while a few people have significantly more than they need. The demonstration got a lot of attention, but little action as a result.

The Black Lives Matter movement continues because some people refuse to notice that people with darker skin are treated unfairly. There is lots to be changed yet, and hearts and habits are the slowest to change. Even when we notice that something we thought or said was unfair, we have been taught from childhood to think and speak that way.

… Noticing doesn’t always mean we need to do anything. Bob was not able to walk, and used a motorized wheelchair. He was independent and insisted he didn’t need help, though he did allow us to open the church door for him. I regularly saw him wheeling at top speed down the road on his way to the store. He wasn’t bent over in spirit by his broken body. He only needed our recognition that he was more than a wheelchair-bound person.

… Sometimes, we notice and do what we can. Karen is homebound with pulmonary disease. She has been ill for many years, living long past medical expectations. We discussed Occupy Wall Street protests one day. If she were healthy, she would have been there, camping out with the rest. But she couldn’t go, so she spent her days making phone calls to legislators and writing letters. She noticed, and did what she could to be part of making changes happen.

This week, I hope you will pay attention to what you notice and what you don’t want to notice. May Jesus guide you in your pondering. Amen