Now he was teaching in one
of the synagogues on the sabbath. And just then there appeared a woman with a
spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was
quite unable to stand up straight. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and
said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” When he laid his hands on
her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. But the leader
of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying
to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those
days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day.” But the Lord answered him and
said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his
donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this
woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set
free from this bondage on the sabbath day?” When he said this, all his
opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the
wonderful things that he was doing.
When I came into the office on Monday of last week, I had
several things to do in a short time—emails to send and return, a list of items
to purchase for our UKirk kick off, a few phone calls to make, the liturgy to
write for today’s bulletin, just to name a few. I had a short time to get all
of this done because I was about to head to Birmingham with my mom to go into
the hospital for a week of medical tests to see why I’ve been struggling so
much physically for the last couple of years. I was dreading the tests because
I sensed it would not be an easy few days in the hospital (and it wasn’t), but
I was also hoping at the same time for some answers—answers that would lead me
to understanding, answers that would lead me to some sort of healing. So, as I
turned to our lectionary Gospel reading for today so I could plan our liturgy,
I read through the Scripture and just looked up to the heavens and laughed.
There’s nothing quite like having prayed for some type of healing for the past
two years, nothing quite like knowing you’re about to go into the hospital for
several days because there hasn’t been much healing to be found—and then
reading through a Scripture that’s all about healing and knowing you have to
preach on a few days after you get out of the hospital. Proof indeed that God
does have a divine sense of humor.
So, here I am. I am still wrapping my head around the last
years and days of my life, struggling with the fact that I have a disorder that
will be with me for the rest of my life—struggling with what healing looks like
in the face of that reality. I freely admit that, as I preach from this passage
today, I’m wondering about the nature of healing, struggling with whether God
and I have different definitions of what healing is, trying to understand what
all is happening. I imagine that I’ll be asking questions to God about healing
for a long time to come, so I can’t promise you any definitive answers
today—all I can promise you is that I’ll share with you where I am today, and
what I think this Scripture is telling me, telling us, in this moment.
Our Scripture from Luke’s gospel finds us in the synagogue,
following Jesus as he is teaching and preaching there. It is the Sabbath day, a
day in which the customs and traditions and rules tell us, tell those gathered
there, that only teaching and listening is to be done—no work, no labor,
nothing that turns our attention elsewhere, nothing that keeps us away from
learning about God. Jesus is teaching, and there are many gathered around him
who are listening and learning and watching. The leaders of the synagogue are
also gathered there, watching everyone around them, making sure no one is
breaking any rules, ensuring no work is being done that might distract the
folks gathered from learning more about God.
As the people are gathered around listening, a woman comes
in. The gospel writer describes the woman for us—she has a spirit that has left
her crippled and bent over, bound, unable to stand up straight for 18 years. It
is an awful description, one that tells us that her life must be almost
impossible. Although she doesn’t intentionally say anything or do anything that
would draw attention to herself and away from Jesus, he sees her anyway and knows
that she must be in desperate need of healing, that she has come seeking any
help or relief she can find. This woman is bound, as the text tells us, and she
needs some shelter, some relief from her pain, from her loneliness and
suffering. Although she doesn’t say a word herself, she clearly needs a word of
hope. Jesus sees her and turns his attention to her: “’Woman, you are set free
from your ailment.’” He lays his hands on her and she stands up straight to
walk again for the first time in years. She is set free. She is set free from
bondage. She is set free with healing. She is set free for new life.
It is a beautiful sight of grace, a stunning scene of hope.
But the leader of the synagogue is not happy, not happy with this woman who has
been set free, not happy that the rules he has clearly set forth are being
broken, not happy with Christ who has set this woman free. He looks at the
crowd, pleading with them, trying to discount Jesus, saying cruelly to the
woman: “’There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days
and be cured, and not on the Sabbath day.’” Can you imagine what she must have
been feeling—just as she finally felt some relief, some wholeness, as this
leader of the church said something so cruel? The leader of the synagogue is so
bound by the law that he can’t see the grace, the healing, the wholeness that
is standing right in front of him, right in front of them all. He is so bound
by the letter of the law that he refuses to see what the Spirit has done for
this woman who now stands upright and whole.
Jesus, indignant and angry with the synagogue leader as he
should be, responds by calling him a hypocrite: “’Does not each of you on the
Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to water?
And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen
long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?’” Each of you, he
says, gives your animals, the ones you take care of, your loved ones, what they
need to survive, Sabbath day or not. Should I, should we, not do the same for this
woman? She needs help. She needs wholeness. She needs to be set free. And it’s
up to me, as your teacher and leader, to set her free. And in doing so, he
teaches all of us that it will soon be up to us to do the same for each
other—to help set each other free from being bent over, to help set each other
free from our struggles, to help set each other free from what keeps us bound.
What better time is there to set someone free, Jesus asks,
than the Sabbath day? We are told in the rules set forth for us in the 10
Commandments to remember the Sabbath day and to keep it holy—we are called to
gather together and sanctify the Lord’s day as we sing and pray and baptize
laugh and eat and listen and learn. But that is only the beginning of how we
observe the Sabbath day. We can’t simply come here and stay. We are called to
gather together to listen, to learn, to pray, but we can’t stay in this place.
Jesus was in the synagogue that day, like so many others, teaching and
preaching—and he was also there healing, fighting for the wholeness of God’s
creation. If we are to be Christ’s people, we are called to remember the
Sabbath day and make it holy, and we are called to turn that holiness into
wholeness for the world and for each other—called to set each other free just
as we have been set free.
One of my favorite books is called “Practicing our Faith.”
It is a book of essays about how we who call ourselves followers of Christ are
to act and love in the world, and I have used it so often in my own preaching,
teaching, and devotional time. In his essay about healing in the book, John
Koenig writes:
…healing is an indispensable part
of the coming wholeness that God intends for all creation. This means that the
practice of healing is a central part of the reconciling activity of God in the
world…For Christians, it is particularly the One we name as Messiah who in his
many acts of healing discloses God’s passionate love for our flesh and blood.
Moreover, from the earliest days of the church, believers have insisted that
everyone baptized into Jesus’ name is called to share in the spreading of that
very specific compassion. When we act in communion with God to bring about
healing, or when we ourselves receive it, we participate directly in the divine
restoration of the material order…When we embody God’s healing presence to
others through touch, concern, or liturgy, we take part in God’s activity of
healing the world. This is something we want to offer to others, almost as much
as we want to be healed ourselves. And it is one of the basic things we do with
and for one another. It happens as one spouse helps another through cancer, as
a friend prepares special foods and offers fervent prayers, or as a parent
comforts a child with a fever….For us, as for our Master, preaching, teaching,
and healing must combine to form a seamless garment.
I love the image he uses here—that, if we are truly in
communion with the God who created us, and in communion with one another, that
healing must be done on the Sabbath. Healing must be combined in our and
through our Sabbath practice of preaching and teaching and listening to come
together to form a seamless garment. That is how we honor God. That is how we
observe the Sabbath day and keep it holy. In Christ, we have been baptized and
set free, so we are called to do the same for others. In Christ, we have been
unbound, so we are called to do the same for others. In Christ, we have been
set free in so many different ways, so we are called to set others free. We are
called to heal the world, on every Sabbath day and every day in between. Thanks
be to God.
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