More Than Once in a Lifetime

Proper 16C; Isaiah 58:9b-14; Hebrews 12:28; Luke 13:10-17 

St. Paul’s Smithfield, 8/21/16 

Jim Melnyk: “More Than Once in a Lifetime”

She had spent most of her adult life looking at the tops of other people’s feet more than looking them in the eye.  It was easier for her that way, simply because looking up to see the faces around her was both difficult and painful.  She had been bent over and twisted for eighteen years and no one had been able to bring her any healing.  I imagine her being named Naomi at birth – a beautiful, traditional name, which means “pleasantness.”

I see her as a child who loved the name, but as she grew older, and her body grew more tortured, she had taken to calling herself “Mara,” just like Naomi in the Book of Ruth.  Mara, you see, means “bitter,” and her life had become more and more bitter as she looked less and less toward the sun.

Naomi, or Mara if we are willing to honor her wishes, seems to have no hope, and she’s not even sure why she still comes to the synagogue – though once in a while a couple of kind-hearted folks would give her a few coins, and that helped.  As word about Jesus being present spread around the synagogue that Sabbath morning Mara still kept to herself – she certainly did not get close enough to see even the tops of his feet – she was unwilling to break tradition in the worship space to approach him.  What good would it do anyway?  You see, Mara had become so used to looking down all the time that she had lost any hope of standing tall ever again.

And then comes the ringing voice of the Teacher, calling Mara over by his side. As she studies his feet, Mara feels his hands lightly touching her head as he says, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment!”  Mara’s head snaps up at his words and her spine follows along. There, looking right into her eyes is Jesus, and it takes her another moment before she realizes she is not only looking at his face instead of his feet, but that the whole gathering that Sabbath morning is staring at the two of them in wonder.  Tightened muscles upon tightened muscles relax as she tests the movement of her shoulders and neck – all the while her gaze fixed firmly upon Jesus – her once seemingly unrealistic dreams a new reality.  Could it truly be that her name is once again Naomi?  And in that moment she begins to praise God!

Now, if you’re like me, you might hope this wonder in and of itself would mark the end of the story.  Jesus, moved by pity and compassion for Mara, speaks a word of wholeness and that which was broken beyond repair is made new.  But alas, the story continues.  “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.’”

The story doesn’t tell us why the leader of the synagogue acts the way he does.  There can be all sorts of reasons – none of them foreign to our twenty-first century world.  Perhaps he cannot deal with the notoriety of Jesus which challenges his leadership – possibly a bit of professional jealousy.  Perhaps the Sabbath had become more of an obligation for the leader rather than the delight it was originally meant to be for God’s people.  Perhaps he fervently believed that Jesus stretching out his hand to heal on the Sabbath was truly a violation of the Law.  We just don’t know without being able to sit down with the man and talk it out.

Jesus, on the other hand, seems to have a handle on what’s going on here.  "’You hypocrites!’” Jesus seems to growl out at those around him. “‘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?’"

Seamus Heaney writes:

“Human beings suffer,

They torture one another,

They get hurt and get hard.”

(“Doubletake” by Seamus Heaney)

Jesus, looking around on that Sabbath morning, realizes the reality of human pain and suffering that would allow his people to look after their livestock on the Sabbath, but not reach out to help a fellow human being in pain – a fellow human being in need.  Surely he recalls the words of the prophet Isaiah we just heard read a few minutes ago: “If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday” (Isaiah 58: 9b-10). 

How, Jesus wonders, how could caring for one’s donkey while ignoring the need of a fellow human being – someone created in God’s own image – another child of Abraham and Sarah – how could we ever consider such disparity of action to be making the Sabbath a delight?

So, you see, today’s Gospel story isn’t first and foremost about the power of Jesus heal, or even the woman’s faith – which isn’t mentioned at all.  The healing act in today’s Gospel story has to do with changing our attitudes and actions when they value rules and traditions over and above life itself.

Seamus Heaney has more to say about human suffering and the heart-sick longing for a new reality:

“History says, don’t hope

On this side of the grave.

But then, once in a lifetime the longed-for tidal wave

Of Justice can rise up,

And hope and history rhyme”

(“Doubletake” by Seamus Heaney).

In every age there are people who give up hope – people who hear the comfortable say to them, “Don’t hope this side of the grave – don’t complain – and don’t look to change the system – just leave things as they are and look for your glorious reward in heaven.”  Easy words on the lips of those who have it easy – and both Isaiah and Jesus refuse to give us an out when it comes to feeding the hungry and caring for the afflicted.

Jesus tells us that in him – and in the coming of the kingdom of God – “Justice can indeed rise up; and hope and history can indeed rhyme.”  But Jesus’ words to those gathered in the synagogue, which echo the prophet’s words to Israel upon their return from exile, remind us that we have a part to play in all this.  We can play a part in removing the burdensome yoke from our fellow human beings’ shoulders.  We can stop the finger pointing and the speaking of evil – and challenge others to do the same as well – admonitions especially appropriate in the modern day political climate.  We can change systems.

God seeks to work in and through us to help make hope and history rhyme.  God seeks to work in and through us so that such a reality isn’t just a “once in a lifetime” event, but rather becomes the natural way of life for God’s people and for this world.

History says “Don’t hope this side of the grave.”  History says, “Take the name Mara, which means ‘bitter.’”  Jesus says, “I am the one who bends history towards wholeness.  I am the harbinger of hope.  I am the One who brings “a kingdom that cannot be shaken” – a kingdom that welcomes the whole of creation into the presence of the Holy One (Heb. 12:28).  Jesus is the One who says to us all, “Open your hearts and follow me.”