An Invitation
The Rev. Dave Olson
Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost, August 21, 2022
Hebrews 12:18-29 • Luke 13:10-17
This is not a sermon. It is an invitation to enter the Gospel story thru my imagination and see where you find yourself.
The setting is a synagogue, a space like like this space: ordered, comfortable. Those in attendance were doing the regular ritual of life. It is what we do, in a classroom, an office, if you are back in it, your household, on your morning walking route, in your quiet space. And Jesus is there, participating, companioning; giving comfort and encouragement. And Jesus is here, with us now, and in your classroom, office, household, walking path, quiet space.
“Just then there appeared” - a bit of an understatement, don't you think? There is a disruption. A desperate woman appears in front of Jesus. Now if you are a woman in that town, you are seated in the back of the assembly, and if you are a disfigured woman, you are probably in a far corner hunched on a stool, head down to avoid eye contact.
This woman makes her way to the front, pushing forward through the disgusted looks and the mummers of protest. It would be as if one of the street people who are part of our community, and who sometimes take refuge on our porch comes through the open door and walks down here, to the front pew. Or a student acts out; a new colleague in the office doesn't follow the routine; something goes haywire at home and messes up your planning. Disruptions come into our ordered, comfortable space.
The voice of the ruler of the synagogue goes off. At first just in thoughts: stop this interruption, you are ruining my peace , disrupting my program for the day. This is a voice I know well, sounding an alarm, feeling resentment, getting angry at having to adjust my plans. My inner ruler of the synagogue, of my ordered space, asserts itself every time there is a disruption to the ritual of my life.
Jesus, instead, engages the woman, accepts her as part of the community, sees her action as a valid part of the moment. He acknowledges her humanity. He welcomes the interruption and enters the moment. Sometimes I am able find the Jesus in my responding, engaging the moment, the person. I have tried many times for someone to be released from their infirmity, yet have not seen a miracle. I have sometimes turned to engage the person sitting on the street, with a coffee, a $5 bill, and some conversation, yet none have lept up to thank me and say, Now my life has changed. I sometimes am able to turn to the interruption and ask what gift is in it for me.
Maybe even more difficult for me than quieting the inner ruler of the synagogue or opening to the way of Jesus moving thru me is the last response we see in the story: “rejoicing at all the wonderful things”. This is taking the opportunity to engage the moment, letting the impact be whatever it is, and. It is just giving in to joy that Jesus is present, whether in the ordered place or in the disruption. It is the freedom to see that something wonderful happened, whatever that looks like. And let the sounds of rejoicing in my soul drown out my inner ruler of the synagogue.
So, there you have it. It is a Gospel story. It is my story. And perhaps it is your story too.