Where I am

August 25, 2019 * Luke 13:10-17

The events unfolding in this morning’s text from Luke are very familiar to us; Jesus teaching, Jesus healing, and Jesus challenging the notions of religious law.  And while this familiarity exists, it’s important that we pay attention to the peculiarities of what makes this story unique, relevant, and important. 

We have departed from the parables of Luke and have moved into an event driven scene complex with details.  Jesus is teaching, on the Sabbath, in a synagogue.  We aren’t told which synagogue, or what town he is in.  Amidst the crowd that has gathered around him, he spots something that catches his eye.  Something he can’t quite move past or just overlook.  It was a woman.  A woman that we really don’t know anything about.  We don’t know her age, where she was from, we don’t know her name.  We do know, that for many years, 18 in fact, she has been suffering from a condition that has left her crippled and bent over, not being able to stand up at all.

That’s something you and I might have a hard time grasping, being that as I look around, we are all people able to do the things this woman could not.  We can look up at the sky.  We can look each other in the eye.  With outstretched arms we can carry out the functions of daily life (in healthcare we call these activities of daily living).  We can see in front of us, navigating out own paths.  We sleep stretched out in our beds in crazy positions, we reach overhead to get things out of cabinets….  Our world view consists of more than dust, and feet.  But this woman’s did not.  She couldn’t do any of these things, and hadn’t been able to for 18 years.  And it’s no secret how persons of lesser abilities were treated in this day and age; it was bad enough that she was a woman.  This alone put her at the bottom of the social hierarchical ladder.  But this?  This disability robbed her of more than her ability to stand straight; it robbed her of any shred of social status and respect she would have ever had the chance to attain. 

We also don’t know what brought this weary woman out this particular Sabbath day, or what her business was at the temple, or how she even got there.  Had she come out to see if this man whom she had heard about would heal her?  Surely she had heard about the wonderous things that had happened to the man who couldn’t speak, or the leapers, or the woman with the bleeding condition.  Surely, maybe, hopefully…he would have pity on me, too.  But, then, maybe Jesus was a stranger to her, someone she had never heard of before.  She may have been so segregated to the outskirts of society that she hadn’t heard any of the news.  Maybe her being in the temple on the sabbath had nothing to do with Jesus’ appearance.

That would almost seem fitting, since we know of the accounts of the other miracles where people went to great lengths to make their way to the feet of this Messiah.  The crippled man, whose friends lowered him down through the roof, the bleeding woman who reached out through the crowd just to grab his coat….  Today’s stooped woman, we see, didn’t approach Jesus.  He called her out. 

He called her out.  He saw her.  Think about that.  Think about all those people, crowding around Jesus in the temple…the thick density of people, all standing upright, listening intently, and through all of that, he spotted a woman, so contorted that she was half the height of everyone else there.  The fact that he was able to see her was indeed a miracle.  He did.

He called out to her, something I’m sure she hadn’t experienced in a number of years.  People don’t seek out those who are marginalized and disenfranchised.  She makes her way to the man calling her forth with the best pace she can, guiding herself along the path of feet that have parted to allow her passage.  Jesus speaks the words “you are set free from your ailment”, but he didn’t stop there, which makes this encounter different than the others.  After saying these words, Jesus laid his hands on the woman.  He did what she couldn’t – he reached outstretched, touched her, and in that moment she did something she had not done in 18 years:  she stood upright.  Her spine straightened, her legs and feet squared, she pulled her head up and she stood and with all her might, she began praising God!

Isn’t this wonderful!  Thanks be to God!  The crowd is cheering, there are hugs, and tears of joy, and this feeling of electricity in the air…until a voice called out above the cheers.  A voice of indignation.  “You…you’ve done work on the Sabbath, Jesus”, the synagogue leader proclaims.  There are six days in which to work, and this day, this Sabbath day, this is God’s day, to be kept Holy.  Immediately Jesus reminds the Religious Leader that it is a good and right thing on the Sabbath to untie your Ox and Donkey and lead them to water…to offer them care, to show them mercy.  But in this case, it wasn’t alright to show this woman mercy, and care? 

It could be argued that there’s a stark difference in depriving something of water, which would lead to death pretty quick, and alleviating symptoms of an ailment that had been ongoing for 18 years.  I’ll concede to that.  But the question lingers…why would anyone with the ability to show compassion wait even one more day to do so?  With the ability at hand, why would Jesus deny her wholeness, simply to appease the legal system of religion?

Because, that’s not what this was about.  Jesus did so much more than simply restore this woman’s ability to stand upright.  He did more than cure her of a physical disability or ailment.  He restored to her status.  He removed the thing that ostracized her to the margins of their society, he destroyed the thing that those in power and position used to disenfranchise her.  He gave her an identity, he gave her empowerment, and in doing so, threatened those who took it from her in the first place.  By restoring her social status he challenged the Religious Leader and his way of life.  Power is something people don’t take lightly; those in it want to keep it, at all costs.  And today, in the great contest of power and shame, power has been given to the healed woman, and the Religious Leader has been shamed. 

And to make matters worse, the crowd took delight in this. 

I was finished with this sermon, and came back to it because one line was still bothering me:  “…he laid his hands on her…”.  Why?  He had made the pronouncement of healing her, and so many times before that’s all it had taken.  Jesus had even healed people through his garments…so why did he lay his hands on this woman?  Why was it so important to touch her?  Doing so could have easily rendered him unclean…and I think that’s exactly why he did it.  Because it was a good thing.  Because it further showed the Religious Leader and those gathered the great example of what we should be doing. 

But that’s not all.  Although you and I may have never been as physically afflicted as this woman, each one of have fought battles in our lives, both visible and invisible.  At times, when we are at some of the deepest moments of our lives, we look for Jesus, we see him, and we reach out for him.  Much like that hemorrhaging woman we know if we can just grab the hem of his garment, that’s all we need.  We go to Jesus, where Jesus is.  And then sometimes, other times, when things have gotten so bad that we don’t even have the will to reach out to Jesus, Jesus finds us, and lays his hands on us, and steadies us and centers us and meets us where we are, in the midst of our pain, and our storm, reminding us that we have an identity, we are claimed, and we are love.

Thanks be to God.