 Rev. Lisa McIlvenna |
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Bent Out of Shape
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Did you hear about the doctor who called one of his patients because her check had bounced? "Mrs. Taylor, I’m sorry to tell you this, but your check just came back." "Well so did my arthritis," she replied, and promptly hung up. We joke about the woman with arthritis. We chuckle about the absurdness of the joke…. to think that anyone would dare to say such a thing, much less think they could get away with it. Yet, the truth is we are so used to having our own way… call it "customer satisfaction." We are so used to having control of our lives by what we eat, buy or do, that when our physical health gets beyond our control we can get pretty "bent out of shape"! Today’s gospel story is about a woman who is "bent out of shape" literally and how she experiences healing. She is a woman who has struggled with a spirit that has left her crippled or bent over for eighteen years. Talk about loss of control! The scriptures refer to her as "the bent woman". Surely her parents named her something other than "the bent woman" although she doesn’t seem to have a name to anyone in town. When, or if, they saw her creeping down the street - body bent, eyes glued to the ground in front of her feet - they didn’t say, "Here comes Mary," or "Look, it’s Elizabeth". If they noticed her at all they said, "Here comes the bent woman… the crippled woman." A simple harmless nickname, or name of description, we might say.… why make it such a big deal? Yet, for those of us who bear the weight of labels….
Whether it be a cancer or AIDS patient, handicapped, worthless, dysfunctional, fat, retarded, slow, stupid, gay, old, ugly, poor, abused, mentally ill, or any other label…. those of us who bear the weight of labels or the weight of being simply unnoticed know how "bent out of shape" the woman’s faith and her self-worth have probably become, and how insignificant and powerless she must feel. Yet, despite all that this woman doesn’t have going for her and her seeming loss of control, she does not let it stop her from living her life, or from experiencing restored health and hope in her life. In fact, as we continue to read the passage, what we discover is that the real characters who are "bent out of shape" in this story are the leaders of the synagogue. Why are they so "bent out of shape"? Let me try to answer that question by first offering an illustration. Those of you who remember your early biology days may recall an experiment in which the science teacher puts a fish in an aquarium. Then, the teacher places a glass divider in the aquarium so that the fish can only swim in one half of it. The fish will run into the divider, bumping into it only a few times before it learns it is confined to one side of the aquarium. From then on, the glass divider can be removed allowing the fish full access to the whole aquarium. Still, the fish will only swim in one half of the tank. It has been conditioned to limits that, in fact, do not exist. The human need to control and to dominate our lives is strong. So strong, that to accept any elements of reality that come from beyond us feels like a threat not only to our freedom, but our self-identity and/or self-importance. We want to be in control so that we can pretend we are in charge. Unfortunately, too often, we become like fish in the aquarium. We restrict our world unnecessarily. We set our own dividers in our lives - making our worlds small enough that we carry on with the illusion that we are in charge, when, in reality, we live in an aquarium that is larger than we allow it to be. The rulers of the synagogue in today’s story are ones who have become like fish in the aquarium. They have become conditioned to limits that do not exist. Their experience of life and what it offers is restrained by their need to control and/or be in control. Let’s take a look at what happens. This bent woman appears in the synagogue on the Sabbath as perhaps she had for many years before. She makes her way into the back corner of the outer courts and begins to pray. All of the sudden, Jesus spots the woman, calls her to where he is – in the center – and he says to her, "Woman, you are set free from your ailment." Then, reaching out and touching her, she immediately stands straight and begins praising God. But the leaders of the synagogue become angry as the crowd begins praising and shouting…. accusing Jesus of having broken the Sabbath. Jesus then turns to the leaders and calls them a label as well: "You hypocrites." A label which leads one to ask - who is it that really suffers the burden of being "bent out of shape" and in need of healing in the story? Jesus goes on to say, "You lead your cattle to water on the Sabbath.… is not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, worthy of as much?" Now, it would be really easy here to use this passage in order to get wrapped up in a debate about whether or not stores should be open on Sunday or sporting events scheduled on Sunday. But to do so, I think, would be to miss the depth of what is at issue here. Jesus isn’t rebelling against the holiness of the Sabbath, following the law, or even the rulers’ religiosity.… only about how they use these to bind them in an illusion that they are in charge.… and how it allows them to hide comfortably in their own little world while missing what else God and the rest of the world has to offer them. Jesus’ action and the crowd’s response push on the boundaries of the rulers’ small aquarium. And, I believe, the rulers’ real anger and their being "bent out of shape" is about the anxiety and fear they feel at their threatened loss of control and/or order. In the rulers’ little aquarium:
Jesus’ action and the resulting response, on the other hand, challenges the rulers’ small aquarium world of control.
By relying on such power and control to define their life, is it any wonder that Jesus’ action and response creates such fear and loss of direction in their lives as they know it, that they begin to plot a way to kill Jesus? But before we become too hard on the rulers of the temple, let us take a step back to consider our place in the story. Some of us this morning may very well be the bent-over woman…. but what about the rest of us? We may come suffering from pain or in need of physical healing. Others of us come crippled by labels. Are we so sure that we could be found in the midst of those celebrating with the woman? It’s not that we don’t enjoy a good celebration or rejoice about one’s healing, but:
Why do we hold onto these things? Do we not, like the rulers of the synagogue, live in an illusion that having control in our lives is what makes it manageable, meaningful, and gives us self-importance and self-worth? Unfortunately, it is just that…. an illusion. For while we are seeking to control our own little world, we are missing so much more life has to offer us. Her name was "Information Please". Actually her name was Sally.… a middle-aged woman who didn’t really like her job all that much but who was very good at it. But "Information Please" was what the little boy thought her name was.… and she lived in a box that hung on the wall in his Pacific Northwest home. He was mystified when mom would go to the box, take down the receiver, hold it to her ear, and talk to the woman inside…. who was named "Information Please". Why, there was nothing she didn’t know! She could tell people numbers and the correct time. One day, while mom was away, the little boy accidentally whacked his finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible. He walked about the house sucking on his throbbing finger - when he noticed the telephone. Running for a footstool, he dragged it to the phone, unhooked the receiver, and said into the mouthpiece, "Information Please". There was a click and a small voice spoke into his ear…. "Information"…. "I hurt my finger," he wailed into the phone. Somewhat irritated, and thinking here was another prank call from someone wasting her time and putting her behind, she said, "So why didn’t you go tell your mom?…. What do you want me to do about it?", and started to hang up the phone. But as she did so, the little boy began to cry. "My mom isn’t here and it hurts really bad!" Her voice softened, "Are you bleeding?" …. "No, I hit my finger and it hurts!" .… "Can you open the icebox?" He said he could. "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to your finger." After that, the little boy called "Information" for everything. He called her for his geography homework ("Could you tell me where Philadelphia is?"). He called her when he struggled with his math, and couldn’t make two numbers add up. He even called her to find out what to feed a chipmunk he had caught in the park. One day, he asked "Information Please" how to spell the word "fix". Then there was the day Petey, his pet canary, died. He asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to families only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?" She answered him quietly, "Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.… and the melody that is imprinted on one’s heart never fades though the one who sings it may go." Somehow, he felt better. When Paul was nine years old, his family moved across the country to Boston. He often thought of "Information Please", who lived in the old wooden box. As he grew into his teens, he appreciated how patient, understanding, and kind she was to spend time on a little boy. A few years later, on his way to college, Paul’s plane touched down in Seattle, where he had lived as a little boy. With time on his hands between flights, Paul dialed his hometown operator and asked for "Information Please". When she heard the small, clear voice she knew well how to answer…. "Information". He asked, "Could you tell me how to spell fix?" There was a long pause and then a soft-spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now." Paul laughed and said, "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me?" She replied, "I wonder if you know how much your calls meant to me. You see, I could never have any children, and for a long time shut myself off in my own world, because it was too painful to be around children…. but I used to look forward to your calls." Three months later, back in Seattle, Paul called again. This time, a different voice answered. "Information." He asked for Sally. "Are you a friend?" the voice asked. "Yes, a very old friend." "I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Sally died five weeks ago." Then, before hanging up she said, "Wait a minute, did you say your name was Paul?" "Yes." "Well, Sally left a message for you…. she wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you."
Like the crippled woman in today’s gospel, Sally’s healing didn’t lie in her own doing. It didn’t lie in allowing herself to be bound by a label, minding her own, staying in her own place, or resigning herself to the "givens" in her life. The woman’s healing lies in daring to let go of control… stepping beyond the boundaries of comfort, expectation, givens, sensibility, what’s explainable and safe. The woman’s hope lies in joining hands in mutual relationship with another, and in the experience of divine love experienced along with and through human compassion and human touch, finding a power beyond herself that empowers her to stand straight and tall in hope, in confidence, and with new vision and direction in her life. Whether we identify this morning with the bent-over woman as one labeled and suffering pain in need of healing, or with the rulers of the synagogue…. living life in half an aquarium or out of a need to control – our healing and our call lies in following the example of Christ – accepting the call out from and inviting others out from what is safe, comfortable, what is expected, explainable, or black and white… controlled lives. Our healing and our call comes in letting go and trusting in a healing and life-giving power beyond ourselves that is experienced through the sharing and touching of lives in mutual relationship of compassion and grace. Let us pray…
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