Tenth Sunday after Trinity 2019

Lectionary reading: Luke 13:10-17

In our Gospel reading today we meet a woman who had a physical condition, a long-term infirmity, that was the result of a spiritual malaise.

A word of caution: not every physical infirmity is caused by a spiritual malaise; and not every spiritual malaise causes physical infirmity. Nonetheless, the Bible presents us with a world in which the spiritual and the physical are both alike created, and compromised; are equally disordered, and liberated; and in which the two are integrally entwined.

There is an old, old story in which the Lord God took dust from the earth and fashioned from it a man, and breathed the breath of life into the man’s nostrils, God’s breath, in our lungs. We are, according to this story, dust and wind, flesh and spirit, held together in God’s hand. We are animated earth. We are created to participate in the life of the Creator. Every breath God gives us, as pure gift, we in turn give back to him: in, out, in, out. From dust you were taken, and to dust you shall return.

In our Gospel reading today we hear a new story, of a woman. Like all the daughters of Eve, she is animated by the breath of God. That is a given. But that life-giving spirit has, for the past eighteen years, been cancelled-out by another spirit, a spirit that, according to the literal sense of the Greek words Luke chose to tell the story, cancelled-out her strength. As a result, she is bowed down, pressed towards the earth, back to dust as yet awaiting wind.

When Jesus sets her free, what Luke presents us with is nothing short of a new creation story.

The leader of the synagogue is indignant. He, too, draws on an old, old story, one that comes even before the story of the Lord God animating the dust. No, he cites the story of God liberating the cosmos from chaos, in six great liberating acts. Those acts were followed by the sabbath, a day for joy, for rejoicing at all that God had done. Six days for work, and one for rejoicing. Had Jesus healed the woman on any of the previous six days, we would be rejoicing at that today...

Jesus has something to say in response; but at this point in the story, Luke does not refer to him as ‘Jesus’ but as ‘the Lord’: ‘But the Lord answered him and said...’

This is not coincidental. This is not junior school English, where the teacher presents you with a thesaurus and pushes you to use a more varied vocabulary. This is making a deliberate theological point. These are the very words of God, set in a story about God.

Jesus calls the woman, ‘a daughter of Abraham.’ Abraham, the friend of God, who was bold enough to contend with God on behalf of others. Abraham, the father of all who walk by faith rather than by sight. Abraham, who lived before the giving of the law. The law, of course, was given to those who had been set free from captivity in Egypt, to instruct them in how to live out their freedom.

Don’t cite the law over this woman who was still a captive, bound by the Satan, the Accuser. Don’t be the Satan, the voice of accusation.

When Jesus sets her free, what Luke presents us with is nothing short of a new exodus story (which is, itself, a new creation story).

When God speaks, his opponents are put to shame. Note this: Jesus always sides with those who are ashamed, with those who know shame, whether as a result of their own actions or as a result of the accusations of others. So, when, at the end of this story, Jesus’ opponents are put to shame, Jesus has triumphed over them by turning enemies into friends, or at least, potential friends. It is the best place they can be, for now; and a necessary step on their journey.

When God breathes life, and contrary to the fear of the leader of the synagogue, there is a great multiplication of rejoicing. This is not just sabbath, this is abundant sabbath.

Jesus calls the indignant ones ‘hypocrites,’ actors. He says they are play-acting sabbath, not living it. They know the stories, but they don’t know them to be their story. So, what about us? Are we play-acting church, play-acting Eucharist? Or is Jesus setting people free in our midst, causing us to rejoice at all the wonderful things he is doing? Is today’s Gospel an old story fashioned on a couple of really, really old stories; or is it our story, the good news for us, today?

In short, what spiritual malaise is crippling you, crippling me, today? What unseen spiritual reality is pushing us to our knees? And if we are pushed to our knees, might we find ourselves at the feet of the one who can set us free?

It may be the recurring temptation to pleasure, to gratify our self, to avoid pain through subtle distractions or hidden addictions;

it may be loneliness, that taunts us for our embodied limitations, our inability to be enough for everyone, for anyone for ever, for ourselves;

it may be resentment of those closest to us, resentment of duty to those we profess to love, resentment that steals our joy and stokes anger in its place;

it may be the workaholism that cuts us off from relationship, at first as an escape, eventually as a prison;

it may be that depression for which there is no apparent cause;

it may be the ongoing struggle to forgive someone, or to forgive ourselves, for pains inflicted long ago.

And like the leader of the synagogue, we can justify our position, indignantly if pushed.

It is unlikely that you have never wrestled with such demons, unlikely that you are unscathed by any of these, as they are temptations that are common to humanity.

It may be that you have known Jesus set you free from one or other, or even all, of these spirits that come against the life-giving Spirit. But the wonderful thing with Jesus is that he sets us free by degrees, as much freedom as we are able to take hold of for now, a step on our journey. And the stories warn us that freedom given can be lost, ground taken can be surrendered to a future assault; yet Jesus is still teaching in our midst and setting us free.

Today, be the woman in the story. Today, feel Jesus’ hands laid upon you, gentle, sure, affirming. Today, stand up straight and begin praising God. And keep praising, in the face of indignation, until the entire crowd joins in.