Loading...There are some stories we hear in the Gospels that have a lot going on. Well, let’s be honest, most of them have a lot going on. But some of them bring in too many characters with too many subplots. Today’s Gospel is one of these.
Part of the problem with this is we are too far removed from the time, the context, of the story. Unless we have the time, the sometimes the significant time, to pick the story apart, to delve into the historical, the emotional, the religious, and the personal aspects, we will always miss something.
That’s okay. If you are like me, there are passages in scripture that impact me differently each time I read them. Not because I’m a priest. I’ve experienced this throughout all the years I’ve read and studied the Bible.
Our experiences, knowledge, belief systems, and awareness all impact what draws our attention. We learn from each encounter. We might have an a-ha moment or read something with a different comprehension because of something that is going on in our life. I think that’s why I believe the Bible is a living document. It lives with us and teaches us what we need to know when we need to know it.
This is growth. Sometimes it is transformative, changing a key part of who we are because we understand something in anywhere from a small to a radically different way than we have in the past. As we begin to see the world through a different lens, we will hopefully behave in ways that reflect our love of God in Christ-like ways.
A lot is going on in today’s Gospel. Much of it we simply can’t understand without deeper knowledge of Jewish customs and laws, traditions, expectations, and hierarchy. In this particular story, understanding these systems matter, but to dig deeply into them would take more time than I’m willing to give … or you may be interested in receiving.
But I can set the stage with a few short explanations.
First, Jesus is a Jew. He is a leader, a teacher, welcomed in synagogues and temples throughout Israel. He follows Jewish rites and laws … up to a certain point. When a Jewish or civil law causes people to devalue the dignity of humans, Jesus will point it out gently or forcefully. This is what got him killed.
Next, Jewish leaders are not the enemy. These are men, always men at that time, who study, discuss, wrestle with, and try to live by the rules of their forbears. They strive to keep the Sabbath day holy, in ways that make sense to them, in the ways they live their lives, sometimes taking their interpretations to the extreme for the sake of optics rather than seeing the plight of the people in their midst and their needs.
I think we all can admit we have been known to do the same at different points in our lives. It doesn’t make us bad, or unfaithful, it makes us human. As we become more aware of how we respond to the world around us, we grow.
The religious leaders, the rabbis, the Sadducees and the Pharisees, take deep dives into the Torah, the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, which Christians call the Old Testament. They debate laws contextually, meaning they look at them from local perspectives, sometimes adapting or changing something to better reflect the circumstances.
For example, people in Israel who did not live near water at that time should not eat fresh shellfish pulled from the sea or lakes and transported. It wasn’t a safe way to handle food, and they knew it. People could get sick and die. While this is a law in Leviticus, it does not make sense for those who live near the water and depend on the abundance of sea creatures for their bellies and their livelihoods.
So sometimes, laws and rules must be broken, or at least bent, to fulfill God’s expectation that we love one another, respecting the dignity and humanity of all.
Third, when Jewish people would gather for worship in the synagogue, men and women would be separated. In some places, women would be outside the place where the Torah scrolls would be unrolled and read. In today’s story, knowing that women are not welcome where the men worship is important. The two questions I have for the text are, did the bent over woman in this story walk into that space or did Jesus walk out to her? And if she was outside the men’s sacred space, did he bring her into that space?
No matter how it happened, Jesus bent the rules by healing her on the Sabbath. The day of rest, when, as the law says, no one should do anything that changed creation. Jesus blatantly changed something, someone, from what they were into something new. According to Sabbath law, that was not allowed.
That brings us to the congregation. These are the devoted people of God who come into the synagogue, just like we come here. To worship, to learn, to praise, to struggle, to find peace, to pray. Ordinary people coming together for nourishment.
On this day, they may get a little more than they bargained for.
Rather than speak directly to Jesus about breaking the Sabbath, the religious leaders chose, instead, to speak to the congregation present, using his blatant disregard for something they held sacred, to teach them there are consequences to breaking the rules. This public response addressing the crowd rather than speaking to Jesus directly was a form of triangulation.
Of course, Jesus points out their own hypocrisy, reminding them that they, too, do things on the Sabbath to ensure the safety and wholeness of their animals. They do not deny sustenance or water. Should not a human being, even a woman, be provided the same on any day of the week?
Can you imagine the looks on the men’s faces when Jesus answered his accuser?
Finally, is the woman. Bent over at her waist for 18 years. The version we read doesn’t quite explain if she comes into the synagogue weekly or if she was there to hear Jesus that day. We don’t know if she was hoping to be cured, or if she was embarrassed when she became the center of attention.
We don’t know a lot about her specific story, but we know about people like her, stories shared throughout the New Testament of people, physically or emotionally burdened by their own situations, experiences, and relationships. Burdens or diseases, often identified in scripture as demons, poisoning mind, body, or soul. As a group they can be identified as outsiders or outcasts—people who have been shunned from society because the burdens they carry are too much for some people to handle.
Throughout the Old Testament we hear prophets talk about the widowed, the orphaned, the immigrant, the sick, the friendless and the needy. Jesus quotes from that scripture often. Paul and the other letter writers remind readers, too.
They remind us how the powers that be, religious and civic leaders, decided people that have been identified as “less than human” for reasons often beyond their control must be segregated, separated from the benefits of society and worship out of irrational fear, sometimes, or to keep a community safe from a deadly illness.
Some of this is practical, but often that practical reason becomes an easy way to shut people away because of what some fear -- rather than finding solutions to welcome and include people, helping them overcome their obstacles, creating a thriving community that recognizes that everyone has something to offer.
In today’s context we might call them the marginalized: the addicted, the unhoused, the mentally ill, the food insecure, the unloved, the undocumented, the disabled, the uninsured, the Autistic, the LGBTQIA, and so many more. Men, women, and children stripped of their humanity, their opportunities, their ability to survive, because others have deemed them unworthy of protections and care.
God sent Jesus into this world to help us see those who are pushed into the alleyways, gutters, woods, and into institutions to show us that love is to be the first response toward those who have been segregated from the safety that comes from community.
Jesus shows us in today’s Gospel what that looks like.
In our story, a woman, suffering from physical burdens that force her body to bend at the waist, is cured, is straightened, by Jesus, in front of a crowd, on the Sabbath.
Her response? To stand up straight and praise God.
This woman’s bondage was manifested in her bent body. Her burdens appear to weigh her back down as far as it could go, making it impossible for her to stand up straight.
I’d like you all to stand up where you are, if you can. Bring your leaflet and move into the aisle. Give yourself a little room. Now, bend at the waist, looking straight down at your feet.
From that position, go to someone near you and say hello. And then turn your attention back toward me, still looking down.
It feels awkward and might hurt a little, but I want you, if you aren’t getting dizzy, to stay in this position while we, together, read today’s Psalm again.
Psalm 71:1-6
1 In you, O Lord, have I taken refuge; * let me never be ashamed.
2 In your righteousness, deliver me and set me free; *
incline your ear to me and save me.
3 Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe; *
you are my crag and my stronghold.
4 Deliver me, my God, from the hand of the wicked, *
from the clutches of the evildoer and the oppressor.
5 For you are my hope, O Lord God, * my confidence since I was young.
6 I have been sustained by you ever since I was born;
from my mother's womb you have been my strength; *
my praise shall be always of you.
Don’t stand up. Not yet.
I can only imagine that this Psalm was constantly on the lips and in the heart of this woman. Every day and every hour, trusting in God to sustain her, protect her, to love her, to offer her hope and her praise. But never expecting to be physically healed.
We all have burdens that bend us, that narrow our gaze, that keep us from being and doing all the things we are called to be and do. In many ways, we are like this woman.
So, I’m going to ask us all to remain in this position a bit longer. It’s a little hard for me to preach from this position because I can’t see your faces. I can’t watch your reactions. It’s hard to feel in community with you. It hurts, and I’m emotionally and physically uncomfortable.
How about you?
I have two more little things I want to share with you before we move on. The first is a quote from the Working Preacher website, in the commentary on today’s Gospel, written by Jared Alcantara. He wrote, “For those who know what its like to feel invisible or unnoticed in a world that struggles to pay attention, remember: when others do not see you, Jesus sees you.”
This woman suffered for 18 years. We don’t know if anyone tried to help her, or if she had friends or family. Knowing that many people with ailments like hers were more often pushed to the margins, it is likely she lived a life unseen, invisible, and unnoticed. But Jesus saw her.
If he saw her, he can see you, too.
The second thing I want to share with you is this story I saw on Facebook:
A 3-year-old daughter pointed to a broken toy
She asks her parent, “We can fix it?”
The parent responds, “Of course!”
The girl asks, “Why do we fix it?
Parent: “Um…to make it work again?”
The girl: “No. Because we love it.”
Jesus didn’t save the woman from her pain to make her work again. He probably didn’t solve all her problems. He freed her from a physical barrier that kept her away from being included in the life of the community, the life of the synagogue, her life.
He fixed her because he loved her.
If you are willing and physically able to continue, I’m going to challenge all of us to remain standing and bent until the Peace. These positions will not allow us sit or kneel in our pews. We are going confess our faith in the words of the Nicene Creed. We are going to pray the Prayers of the People. We are going to confess and be absolved. In all of these things, if you will share this experience with me, I hope we will recognize the complexities of our own lives, our need for community, our need for God. Through these next few minutes, I pray our discomfort will help us rejoice more fully at the Peace, and that when we come to the table for communion we will be restored so fully that we will stand tall, rejoicing in the Spirit of our beloved God.
Amen.
