Proper 16C; Isaiah 58:9b-14; Luke 13:10-17;
St. Paul’s Smithfield, 8/25/2019
Jim Melnyk: “No Disposable People”
She moves through the synagogue – a
woman whose body is shaped like the question mark formed at the end of her
daily prayer: “How long, O Lord, how long will I suffer?” A simple word from
Jesus and her wounded, question-mark body stands as straight as the exclamation
point at the end of a praise psalm: “Blessed be the Lord God, the God of
Israel, who alone does wondrous deeds! And blessed be God’s glorious Name forever!”[1]
As a healing story, this passage from
Luke is powerful. The woman in the story has been besieged with her broken
frame for eighteen years. No one has been able to help her – either that, or no
one has wanted to help her. Jesus doesn’t wait for the woman to approach him –
rather Jesus calls her over across barriers of gender, and without any apparent
reason other than his sense of compassion, he sets her free from her ailment.
The passage is powerful as a conflict
story as well. The leader of the synagogue is “indignant because Jesus [has
cured the woman] on the sabbath.” Power does not like looking foolish – and so this
particular leader of this particular synagogue tries his best to stir up the
crowd against Jesus. For centuries Christians have used stories like this one
to denigrate Judaism and claim that teachings from Torah – such as sabbath
keeping – have become nothing more than legalistic ritual. For centuries Christians
have tried to remove Jesus’ Jewish faith and turn him into the first Christian.
Yet long before Jesus comes on the
scene rabbis were wrestling with how to interpret the law. First century Pharisees,
and apparently Jesus as well, were already part of a long-standing tradition of
interpreting the written word of Torah, seeking to explain how to carry out the
meaning of the written word in the midst of all the complexities of life.
Passages from Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy
help shape the command to cease from work on the sabbath – setting it aside as
a holy time to connect with one another and with the God of all creation. Rabbis
wrestled back then – and still do today – with how to properly honor that
commandment. What if my ox falls in a ditch and is in distress? What if my
child is sick? What if someone is dying? What’s happening in this story, and in
all the others where sabbath keeping is debated, is nothing more than an
in-house debate between learned Jews about how to best meet God’s commandment. Many
rabbis, including Jesus, argued that to act with compassion for another is not
a violation of the sabbath, but rather an honoring of God’s creative love.
Jesus seems to pattern his response to the sabbath along the
same lines as the prophet Isaiah in today’s lesson from the Elder Testament: “If
you refrain from trampling the sabbath, from pursuing your own interests on my
holy day; if you call the sabbath a delight and the holy day of the Lord honorable; if you honor it, not going your own
ways, serving your own interests, or pursuing your own affairs; then you shall
take delight in the Lord, and I will make you
ride upon the heights of the earth….”[2] Jesus
understands the sabbath as a time that honors God rather than putting one’s own
needs first. As Walter Brueggemann puts it: “Jesus is always looking beyond his
own interests to the interests of the needy. [For Jesus,] the issue [at stake] is
a reordering of religious priorities” [centralized in an act of compassion and
care].[3]
But as incredible as this story is,
we should avoid the temptation to see it simply as a healing miracle or even a
part of a Jewish debate on how to best keep the sabbath. In the end it’s both
of those and much more. As we mentioned last week, context is important in
unpacking any story from scripture, and it’s no different when seeking to find
the Good News proclaimed by both Jesus and the early church in today’ passage
from Luke.
Immediately prior to this exchange in
the synagogue Jesus tells his listeners a parable about a failing fig tree. The
owner of the property is frustrated and wants the tree taken down because to
his way of thinking it is doing nothing but wasting the soil. That way he can
at least get some firewood out of the deal. Do you remember what the gardener
says? “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put
manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can
cut it down.”[4]
The woman in our story has been bent
over and crippled for eighteen years! Nothing has been done for her because all
believe her brokenness to be caused by a bad spirit. They seem to push her
aside and ignore her because she is wasting space – wasting everyone’s energy –
she has somehow failed as a human being because of the spirit within her. Like
the servant with the fig tree, Jesus carries out the metaphorical act of
spiritual gardening and the woman is healed.
And what comes immediately after this
healing and contentious exchange in the synagogue? A couple of brief parables –
one having to do with the size of a mustard seed and the other having to do
with a baker woman and a small amount of yeast – and both having to do with the
vastness of the coming kingdom of God – both using incredible hyperbole to show
the extent of God’s coming kingdom.
A mustard seed is so tiny – so
inconsequential – that it can all but be ignored. But properly tended, Jesus
tells us, it grows and becomes “a tree, and the birds of the air [make] their
nests in its branches.”[5]
In the second parable it takes just a little bit of yeast to leaven a vast
amount of dough seemingly as if by magic. But what we often forget about the
appearance of yeast in biblical metaphors is that it’s often used as a metaphor
for the “negative effects of immorality or harmful teaching.”[6]
But like the instances of the tree that failed to bear figs and the woman
broken and stooped, Jesus redeems the metaphor of yeast and it becomes a symbol
of God’s power to transform.
Placing this healing in the context
of the fig tree and the parables of the mustard seed and the baker woman with
the yeast says something incredible about this unnamed woman in today’s
passage. This woman – this daughter of Abraham – in spite of her brokenness – this
woman is kingdom stuff! She is worthy of compassion and nurture – she is worthy
of attention and care – she is worthy of healing – even if it is on the Sabbath
day.
This is Jesus proclaiming once again
that there are no disposable people in the kingdom of God. Nothing – not even
supposed evil spirits or years of crippling pain – nothing will get in the way
of God’s dream for this woman and for this world. The woman in the story who seemed
all but written off by her community is now standing tall. Think of the
differences in this woman’s life after being lifted up. Here we see Jesus
actively living out the message of the Isaiah passage in today’s lesson – Jesus
repairing the breach of human brokenness and welcoming all into the coming
kingdom of God.
Jesus is the epitome of tikkun olam – something we’ve talked
about a lot since we introduced the theme way back in Epiphany and have discussed
through Lent and in Vestry-led events on Sunday mornings this summer. Jesus
encapsulates the concept of tikkun olam
in his daily life and mission, giving us examples such has the gardener nurturing
a barren fig tree, the healing of another human being, and challenging those
who would follow him to choose compassion over self-interest or even “sacred
duty.” These are all instances of tikkun
olam.
How do we choose healing over
brokenness? We do it already in so many ways, don’t we? Children who receiving
school supplies and backpacks suddenly feel visible to the world around them. Community
programs where children receive breakfast or lunch at school when they would
have otherwise gone hungry, and suddenly find themselves able to concentrate better
and learn. Bringing a hot meal to senior citizens who spend much of their days
alone. How do we choose healing over brokenness?
Perhaps when we, like Jesus before
us, aren’t too quick to write someone off – remembering that there are no disposable
people in the kingdom of God. Perhaps when we find ourselves willing to change
question marks of sorrow, pain, and fear into exclamation points of healing,
wholeness, and praise. In doing so, God will call us “repairers of the breach,
and restorers of streets to live in.”[7]
