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
