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.”          [Luke’s Gospel 13.11-14]

As I prepared to write this piece, I remembered something. I had an old friend who, after watching Dead Poets’ Society, sided with the principal.  

Just last week, we considered the division Jesus brings. Indeed, Jesus seemed pretty keen on the provocative and conflicted implications of his ministry.

When we explore those words of Jesus, we can imagine that the conflict might arise due to sermons challenging the authorities, or asking people to forgive each other, or even to love enemies.

However, when a person is healed? Really?

That a woman, unwell since Jesus was completing his final year of high school, has to wait until Monday? A woman is restored, and the first response – from the leader of the faith community – is complaint?

A person is set free, and the liberation is regarded as “work”, and not the shalom for which people hunger, and of which the prophets speak. As we frequently experience in the Jesus stories, the wonder of healing and restoration is less pronounced than the reaction of crowds and clergy.

We hear the crowds murmur, and the theologians criticise as tax collectors reimburse their victims, and people crippled with possession are set free. A woman anoints Jesus’ feet with tears and perfume; Jesus offers gifts in return, the blessing of forgiveness and peace. All his hosts have to offer are judgment and slander. A blind man cries out to Jesus, and the crowd seeks to jostle him into silence.

“O, captain! My captain!” Get back in your box.

We stand, conflicted and appalled at their behaviour. If we have sufficient empathy, we might imagine ourselves in the crowd, watching; if we have a smidgen more courage, we might see our face and hear our voice in the pharisees and leaders who condemn Jesus so easily, and those to whom he offers life.

A few moments earlier, Jesus talks about the burdens that are laid upon people’s backs by community leaders, and then nothing is done to lift them. People are trained to think that brokenness is acceptable, perhaps even that this is what God intends for those who struggle.  

Before we complete our sermon, let us ask ourselves how we contribute to the condition of those who are bent over so far, they can see barely more than a pace in front of their eyes. This is as true for our neighbour beside us, as those neighbours we witness in warzones and poverty.

When someone seeks our help, and we have no time today; when a person names their hunger and our response is to consult our calendar; when people ask for justice and are told that wounding is all they can expect.

A colleague of mine consistently reminds me of the powers and principalities which infect our age and season. The measure of our faith is not the culture in which we live; it is one who was executed and then raised to life.

The church so easily succumbs to the markers of “practical solutions” and the illusion of language which suits profit and loss.

For Jesus, the worth of this woman was not measured in her abilities, or lack of them. She was a child of Abraham, an inheritor of the promise of God; her value was her humanness.

Sabbath, the day of shalom, is a day for renewal and recreation, peace and life; is that not what Jeus offered her? Is that not what Jesus offers us?

Our calling is to help people to lift their heads and receive the blessing of freedom.

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