Healing, But Only Sometimes

Luke 13:10–17 NRSV

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.

Where does this conflict come from? What’s going on here?

Last week, we heard a reading from the Jewish Torah, the books of the law, regarding the prohibition from creating idols and graven images. It’s one of the ten commandments. Similarly, this issue with Jesus and the religious leaders stems from another of the ten commandments.

Exodus 20:8–11 NRSV

Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it.

In short — on the sabbath, do not work.

This law, which Moses brought to the people from Mount Sinai in the wilderness, was enshrined and committed to by observant, religious Jews. Remember the sabbath. Set it aside and do not work.

Over the generations, there have been various degrees of commitment to this law. Some communities have very strictly observed this — no work means no labor whatsoever. No cooking, no driving, no gardening, etc.

Others have taken more liberal approaches to keeping the sabbath, especially as Christians have adopted this rule. No work — take the day off. But labor…sure. You can work in your garden…if it brings you delight and rest. You can cook a good meal — as long as it is not a labor and is, instead, a joy, an opportunity to bring people together and celebrate the goodness of God’s abundance.

I think about this most Sundays as I drive to the church. Sundays are a work day for me. And they are for many people. I see folks on the way to the YMCA, which is open and staffed on a Sunday. I see restaurant owners preparing to open shop. I see the young kids working at McDonald’s (yeah, I’ve got a bad habit of sometimes stopping at McDonald’s on the way to church). Our society has a different expectation about what we are to do on the sabbath, the Lord’s Day.

But for the people of ancient Israel, this law was a litmus test for how faithful and observant you were. And the leaders of the synagogue, who are looking for ways to undermine the work Jesus is doing, they capitalize on this opportunity to point out that he has broken the law, healing on the sabbath. “There are 6 days in the week in which it is appropriate and justifiable to heal.” In other words — don’t violate the sabbath, regardless of the need.

And let’s be clear, they’re on to something. This woman had been bent over and crippled for 18 years. It’s not like this was a new issue. Likely, if we imagine a bit, she’s been visiting the synagogue regularly, seeking healing. She’s there on this sabbath day, so she’s probably been there on a lot of other sabbath days, as well as the other 6 days when healing would be “appropriate.” But Jesus sees her today. Jesus sees the need presently, in front of them all, here and now. Yes, it’s the sabbath, but he sees her.

When is the appropriate time to heal?

In our modern times, we, of course, schedule doctor’s appointments and block out time for surgery and recovery. Physical therapy takes time. The offices are only open on certain days each week, so we have to wait our turn. And for a woman with a chronic condition, as it sounds like from this story, deliberation and proper timelines are of course important. You can’t rush these things, right?

And then, of course, we throw into the mix insurance companies, the ones who authorize the procedures, who cover the fees (minus copays and deductibles and coinsurance, etc.). If the care we need is approved, then we can get access to healing, or at least attempts at healing.

As the wisdom teacher says, “there is a time for everything under heaven…there is a time to heal.”

But Jesus is operating on an entirely different timeline. Jesus is breaking down the strict observance of the law and refining it. Jesus is fulfilling the sabbath law — in that he is bringing about restoration, delight, and a return to well-being for this woman. Aren’t these the things that the sabbath is meant to bring about in us? Restoration? Wholeness? Healing?

And the synagogue leaders are INDIGNANT.

When we are wrapped up in religious observance, we are prone to lose site of what matters. When we are bound by the law, enslaved to keeping it to the purist degree, we lose site of the woman standing in front of us, asking for healing.

The synagogue leader is not wrong — in the purist sense, Jesus is violating the rule. And so this pushes on us, causes us to ask — what is the priority of the law? What matters most? Observance of the law? Or the restoration and healing that the law is meant to provide?

There are a number of stories from Jesus’ ministry that push against what we understand to be the limits of organized religion. And it’s easy to think that he’s just undermining it all and starting something else.

But that’s not true. Jesus, throughout his ministry, is highly observant of the religious code and law of his people. He keeps the sabbath, he attends the synagogue, he knows the codes and rules.

But what Jesus is doing, in all of it, is fulfilling the law.

The law to observe the sabbath and keep it protected is, first and foremost, about codifying the people’s regular act of ceasing from work and turning to worship. To turn away from our striving and rest. To rejuvenate and reconnect, especially with God. To set aside an entire day for worship and connection with the divine.

We all know what it’s like to have the nagging tasks of work spinning around in our minds. We check our email on the weekend. We take phone calls after hours. We make phone calls after hours. :) It’s hard to disconnect. And so having this as a rule of life, to take a sabbath and cease from laboring, it’s a good good thing.

But we take it to a religious degree and undermine it’s goodness all the time. We’re prone to being overly strict, prohibiting instead of opening up. So, healing can happen, but only sometimes…certainly not now.

I contrast this prohibition with what I sense to be God’s alternative calling to us, which leads us to radical welcome, hospitality, and hopefully some healing.

To each of us, with our ailments, needs, struggles, and strength, Christ says: Come. We will gather together. We will worship, share our needs, greet each other in peace. We don’t know how to heal every ailment, but if we can help you toward healing in some way, we will try.

Certainly, there are times reserved for reverence and devotion. Certainly, there are rules for decorum and doing things decently and orderly.

But the table of our Lord or the font of his baptism, these are open and ready for us, here, now, always. No restraint. No limitations. To all who eagerly, honestly, long for healing and restoration, the Lord, the Christ, says come. Come to the table. Come to the font. Come to the healing waters of God’s love.

This story compels me to approach our life together in this way: I believe that we are called to welcome any hurting, ailing, sick person. I believe we are to extend hospitality and welcome to anyone who walks through those doors. There are no restrictions on God’s love and we must model that with how we receive the hurting, sick, or hungry who cross our threshold. Not just receive, but welcome as beloved family in Jesus’ name.

When is the right time for healing?

What boundaries do we need to put on God’s love and mercy?

I’ve had a few interactions in my life that have tested these convictions, made me wonder if they truly are the right way to be.

Years ago I had a man come up to me after I preached, who took issue with something I said about how we welcome people in the church. He had an interesting perspective on the idea of God’s lavish welcome. He complained to me — how can you say that God welcomes us, when the majority of the time, the doors of the church remain locked and unopened to the people who are in need. Why do you lock your doors? Shouldn’t the church be open and welcoming, as you say? What about when someone is in need, but they can’t come in to your building?

First, I reacted to this questioning with a scoff. Come on. Any practical person knows that it’s right to lock your doors at night, especially when no one is home. Don’t be ridiculous.

But as the years have passed, I’ve continued to reflect on that interaction, wondering at what that man’s heart was on about. And I think I’ve come to understand his complaint — so often, especially in the church, we have the tendency to put parameters around what qualifies as a need and what we are willing and able to offer in response. The angst this man had at the church, and me, was that he looked at the institutions and did not see them willingly offering refuge and healing for those most in need. He’s right. We can’t just throw open the doors at all hours. We’re not equipped to have 24 hr care here. No church I’ve ever been a part of has had that capacity. And so, in a sense, this man’s frustration is justified. If the doors remained open, perhaps we could help more people. Perhaps more people could find refuge.

About a year ago, we had a man sleeping outside the building here. He mostly kept to himself, left before most people arrived to the building. It seemed relatively inconsequential to let him stay, so long as no problems arose. But, of course, something went sideways. He started feeding raccoons and they started bringing their friends and soon enough Aaron and Tracy Caruso and others were shooing away this cute little trash pandas every day. Things went sideways. We had to ask this man to leave. To not sleep under our stoop any longer.

What’s going on here is we are interacting with the goodness of God’s way, which is to establish the sabbath, keep it separate and holy. AND God’s way, which is to open wide the arms of grace and mercy, bringing healing power to an aching world. These things may seem to be in tension, but ultimately they are partners in forming God’s people in devotion and righteousness. Remember the sabbath. And welcome the hurting.

The women, crippled and bent over, who has been visiting the synagogue repeatedly over these long 18 years…she should have been sent away on that sabbath day. They didn’t have capacity to heal her.

And here is where I understand the synagogue leader. Honestly, I think he’s angry at Jesus for the breaking of sabbath law, but also because Jesus makes an example of healing this women when the leaders of the synagogue cannot. I’m imagining they’ve tried. I want to give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they’ve done prayer services for her in the past. Maybe they’ve laid on hands and prayed for her. Maybe they’ve organized meal trains and arranged transportation for her. If these are faithful, observant Jews, then they know to look after the crippled and hurting in their community. But then Jesus shows up and makes an example of their inability to heal her. I wonder if that’s not a big part of why the synagogue leader is angry. He’s ashamed that Jesus can heal her when he cannot.

Do we ever find ourselves in this space?

First, what parameters do we put on healing? When is it right? How should it be done?

And second, how wide is God’s grace? How deep is God’s mercy? Does time and the day of the week bind God’s power? Does religious observance lead to purity or does it lead to compassion?

Jesus straddles this tension. He observes the sabbath. And he brings healing. Not mutually exclusive, as some might perceive. Rather, these things are mixed together. One and the other. Devotion and compassion. Healing and religion. Faith and action.

I want to close with one of my favorite prayers. This is from Teresa of Avila and it’s called “Christ Has No Body.” To me, it speaks to our calling as ambassadors of Christ, to welcome those in need of healing, to offer care, to be the hands of Christ here and now, cutting through law and rules to be people of grace and healing.

Teresa of Avila (1515–1582)

Christ Has No Body 

Christ has no body but yours, No hands, no feet on earth but yours, Yours are the eyes with which he looks Compassion on this world, Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good, Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, Yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now but yours, No hands, no feet on earth but yours, Yours are the eyes with which he looks compassion on this world. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

Amen.