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HEALING OF THE BENT WOMAN Luke 13:10-17
Today’s gospel provides an account of one of the many healings
performed by Jesus. He is teaching at a synagogue and notices a woman who is crippled, incapable of standing up straight. She is deeply stooped over, bent nearly in half, and she has walked through life this way for 18 years. Imagine her experience of the world. What has her posture made her unable to see and experience as others do? What facial expressions has she missed? What views of the world have escaped her? How has her periphery been drawn in and limited by her physical condition. 18 years is a long time to live so constricted and constrained. What in her surroundings did she have to convert to accommodate her ailment? In other words, how did the experience of constriction, result in the constriction of her world? In this gospel, Jesus calls her over and touches her – perhaps offering her an intimacy often withheld from her. She immediately stands up and begins to praise God. It’s an extraordinary moment, captured in just four verses. She was constricted, constrained, forced to live small. Now she has expanded, her spine has extended; her head has risen – exultant and exalting. Imagine that. The gospels present us with many stories of Jesus extending physical healing. These stories are interspersed with his teachings on the nature of the kingdom of heaven, and with accounts of humanity’s difficulty in comprehending the good news he offered. I suspect that many of the physical healings we read about serve as metaphors for the spiritual healing that is at the heart of the gospel and of the kingdom of heaven that is ever taking shape around us. Where do we feel spiritually bent, or crippled? Where are we cowed over, stooped, or experiencing too small a view of the world around us? I think of things like fear, jealousy, anger, insecurity, perfectionism, and efforts to control life or other people. These can, over time, become habits that diminish our spirits and constrain our capacity for joy, love, and for living the lives we were designed to live. They can be habits that keep us small and stooped. Where do these habits come from if we were designed to experience so much more? "Connection is why we are here. We are hardwired to connect with others, it’s what gives purpose and meaning to our lives, and without it there is suffering.” "Shame, is the fear of disconnection – it’s the fear that something we’ve done or failed to do, an ideal that we’ve not lived up to, or a goal that we’ve not accomplished makes us unworthy of connection". Research indicates that every human being struggles with shame on some level and part of being truly human, part of living wholehearted lives, is to learn resilience in the face of it. But what am I talking about when I talk about shame? Isn’t that more the terrain of those who have experienced deep trauma or been part of abusive religious communities? How does it manifest for the rest of us? Shame whispers in our ears, “You are not enough. You’re not smart enough, not powerful enough, not accomplished enough, not talented enough.” It proclaims, “You are too weak, too needy, too messed up, too brainy, too awkward, too fat.” If we shake that off, it ask us, “Who do you think you are?” This voice is the opposite of the voice of love. And when this voice has power in our lives, it makes giving and receiving love very difficult – because it presents acceptance and love as unachievable. And it teaches us that joy is fleeting. It all sounds pretty dire. Except that in the gospels we see Jesus proclaiming over and over again that love is abundant and that we are loved deeply and passionately by God. The gospels denounce the lie that we are not enough or that we are too much. They answer the question, “Who do you think you are” by answering quite simply, the one who is beloved of God. The gospels tell us, “You have been formed in love, you have been made to experience great love, and you get to extend great love. Therefore, shame need not have power over you.” We are embraced by a love that offers this kind of transformation, this kind of renewal. Sometimes the renewal comes suddenly and release is immediate. These are the moments of great clarity that can take us by surprise and break open a view of heaven in an inescapable way. Other times, the renewal comes slowly and steadily, perhaps at first escaping our notice. We may in fact grow impatient and wonder why old habits seem so resistant to change. And here’s the rub. We experience love profoundly when we have moments of suddenly standing tall. We also experience love profoundly even as we continue to stoop – because love is extended regardless of our habits and our fears. Love is steadily offered, abundantly poured out. It is in our freedom from needing to be perfect, that we can come to understand aspects of love that are harder to see when everything is in place. Sometimes in our infirmity we catch the note that draws us deeper into the song of grace. At the start of this sermon I asked you to consider how the bent woman’s posture might have limited her view of the world. Now I’d also ask you to consider, what has she seen from that stance? What has she been able to perceive that others miss, their eyes fixed more directly outward? What intricate details has she noticed that are often overlooked by those moving so quickly through life? What joys has she discovered that, as it turns out, are not limited to those who can stand tall? What has she learned in the midst of constriction? I don’t mean to suggest that her healing was unimportant; it was in fact, a cause for great joy. As it is for us when we experience healing. But there is an incredible joy that can be found in discovering that nothing is wasted in the economy of God. Not even our struggles to believe that we are truly loved as God promises that we are. Not even our feelings of powerlessness to change old habits out of sheer force of will.
Not even shame is wasted, if in the hands of love, it is transformed into
empathy, compassion, and mercy for others. In their fearlessness they are a people capable of great love – even love to a stranger. They promise me, with what strikes me as incredible faith, that I too will come to love them as they already love me. This kind of belonging and acceptance offers me a profound experience of the kingdom of heaven. It reminds me of what this community of faith gets to practice together and to extend to all those who are in our lives. Freedom, joy, fearlessness. Not even shame is wasted, if in the hands of love, it is transformed into empathy, compassion, and mercy for others.