Luke 13: 10-17                                      Unbent[i]      SEtp. 3, 2006

1. The woman in our scripture this morning was bent over.  That?s about all we know about her until she was unbent!  Some of us have known that feeling of being bent over, feeling the weight of the world so heavy, whole perspective is bleak.  Some may be in it right now.  I invited the woman?s mother to share with you this experience of the despair ?and the setting free.

2. (Looking tired, crying) Please excuse me.  This has been?.an overwhelming day.  Sabbath day.  Day of prayer.  Day of rest.  Day to see your neighbours at the Synagogue to hear the scriptures.  For men it is a day to listen, to question, to discuss.  For women, it is a day to listen and learn.

3. But this Sabbath day, this was truly God?s day.  Praise God.  Praise God.  It started like all others.  She insisted on going to the synagogue.  We set out early, as usual, to allow for the slowness of her pace.  As usual, we didn?t talk.  In the last year or so, it has become difficult for her to get enough breath, so as usual, we stopped again and again.  I felt my impatience growing.  It was hot, and I?m always tired by Sabbath.  Besides, stopping makes it harder to ignore the stares, the names that children say out loud but the old women in doorways whisper, as they point and shake their heads.  ?Hunchback.?  ?Crook back.?  And there are questions.  Always questions.

4. ?How did it happen??  ?Gradually,? I say.  ?What is it??  ?Something wrong with her spine.?  ?How long has she been like that??  ?Eighteen years.  It started before she was ten years old,? I say.  ?Can she see??  ?She can see your feet!?  ?Why did it happen??  I don?t know.?  ?Does it hurt??  ?Why don?t your ask her??  The idea of talking to this deformed creature beside me is unthinkable, and they laugh nervously.  They move away looking disgusted, embarrassed, or frightened,.

5. And so we arrive at the Synagogue.  And there were the same pious people at the gate, who talk about care for the needy and prayers for the afflicted.  Always, when they think we may be almost out of earshot, they give thanks that they are blessed with health and straight backs.  We moved to our places behind the grill, with the rest of the women.  They don?t want us there, either.

6. Her favourite spot has always been by the opening of the courtyard, where she could see a little if she could put up with the discomfort of turning her head.  I stood beside her, only out of habit and duty.  I never thought about her without thinking of my own anger, my embarrassment, the exhaustion, the guilt.  I wonder when my love for my daughter disappeared into all that?

7. When was my desire for her freedom replaced by longing for my own?  There are mothers I know who weep at the thought of their daughters leaving home to be with husbands.  I have wept so often with frustration that my daughter will never leave. 

8. There was a new young rabbi speaking today.  His name is Jesus of Nazareth.  He must have noticed us right away, because before we had taken our usual place, we heard it: ?Woman,? he said.  He was looking at my daughter.  ?Woman, come here.?  He stood there, waiting; and it seemed as though everyone stopped breathing when she took that first awkward step past the grill.  There was no other movement, no other sound.  Just?.waiting.  (Was she taking even longer than usual for each difficult move?)   She shuffled through the men.  Where did she get the courage?  Perhaps not to see the contempt on the faces around her was a gift.

9. She stopped in front of Jesus, and angled her body a bit so that she could face him as much as possible.  Even so, I doubt if she could see much higher than his knees.  He spoke to her!  ?Woman,? he said, ?You are set free from your ailment.?  And then he leaned forward, he reached out, and he touched her!  Right there, in front of everyone.  There was outrage on the face of the Synagogue leader behind him.  I wondered if we would be thrown out, or worse.  It could be worse.  But there was no time.  Before another word was spoken, her twisted form, locked in stone for years, started to change!  It was slow, tentative, to start.  She was opening up!  Do you understand?  She was straightening up!  I clutched the post beside me, because it felt as though the whole building tipped as she changed.  In a moment she was upright, and looking into the face of Jesus.  The first face she had seen straight on for 18 years.

10. She drew a full deep breath.  She raised her arms.  She raised her face and let out a whoop of joy and relief, saying, ?Praise God!  Praise God, Praise God!?  She turned around, spun around and searched the faces of the crowd, drinking in the details, meeting the eyes of anyone she could.  And she found mine.  My girl.  Her face was no longer flooded blue-red, or held tight against pain.  The pain was gone.  The leader was angry.  He screamed out at the crowd, pointing again and again at my daughter and at me.  ?There are six days in the week for work.  On those days, come to be cured, not on the Sabbath!  But we didn?t?What did we do?

11. The crowd around her began to murmur, question.  They started to agree?I saw a shadow of doubt on her face.  Hold on!  Hold on darling girl!  Then Jesus spoke again, and the crowd hushed to hear.  ?Hypocrites!? he said.  ?Would you leave your donkey tied up without water on the Sabbath?  Wouldn?t you rescue an ox that had fallen into a pit on the Sabbath?  Why shouldn?t this daughter of Abraham be freed from her bondage on the Sabbath??

12. Daughter of Abraham ? my daughter?Child of God?Beloved of God?.My daughter?One of the people.  Sons and daughters of Abraham.  That?s who she is?who we are?not our names, or our jobs, our wealth, our poverty, our illness, our shame, our sins, our blessings!

13. One by one, and in pairs and threes, and in groups and all at once, shouts of praise and thanks went up from the people.  There was freedom shining in every face.  My daughter?s burden was only one of those that were lifted today.  I left her sleeping just now.  Soundly, silently.  No pain, no struggle.  Peaceful sleep.  I pray that tomorrow she will wake, able to lift her face to the morning sunshine.  But even if my daughter?s affliction were to return tonight, her burden well never be as heavy again.  And praise God, neither will mine.

14. But what about you and me?  What has us bent over?  Unable to participate in life the way we long to?  To everyone of us the Christ comes, takes our hand, calls us Beloved Child of God.   And raises us up to stand tall, in spite of everything.  Set free for faithful lives.