Bent out of Shape
After a while she got used to her situation. But she never got used to the stares.
In time, she forgot about her misshapen body. But whenever someone’s eyes averted after meeting her own, she remembered.
That’s when she realized that her condition was more than a daily nuisance. She was a public eyesore, a person to be avoided. People viewed her with pity or revulsion, or both.
She was on the outside looking in. Her crooked back was not just uncomfortable for her; it made others uncomfortable around her.
So she learned to cope. She tried not to stick out. She entered late, stayed in the background, and left early.
Word spread that a local celebrity was returning to her small town. As anxious to see him as everyone else, she slipped into the meeting unnoticed.
He paused for a moment, looking intently at her. Or was it her imagination?
“Woman, come here,” he said. Attention was the thing she feared most. Did he really mean for her to stand up in front of all those women and men?
Trembling, she obeyed. Gathering her crooked bones, she made her way to the front. Her crooked condition always worsened when she was self-conscious.
He looks squarely at her. Sensing her embarrassment and fear, he smiled. “Today, you are set free from your sickness.”
Touching her, she instantly felt the life returning to her crooked bones. Cautiously at first, she raised her shoulders, and, unbelievably, she stood up straight. For the first time in eighteen years, she was whole again! Her hands involuntarily raised in joy and gratitude.
But her joy was short-lived. The sound of celebration was quickly quelled by words of condemnation. Quieting the noisy crowd, the moderator spoke directly to her: “There are six days for work. Come to be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.”
Instinctively she hunched over, slinking toward your seat. Another voice boomed, stopping her in her tracks. “You hypocrite! You permit us to untie an ox on a holy day; why don’t you allow us to untie this woman from her bondage?”
At this, her accuser was humiliated, her community was amazed, and her reproach was removed. And we, two millennia later, still grappled with the lessons of that day, preserved for us in the thirteenth chapter of Luke’s gospel.
We are appalled by the religious leader’s callousness. A woman was healed and he was indignant. She got bent into shape, and he got bent out of shape! How could he be so short-sighted?
And yet if we are honest with ourselves, we acknowledge that we religious-types are sometimes infected by his disease. Like him, we can forget that traditions are here to serve people, not the reverse. God help us remember that our churches should be places where broken people are made whole, not where imperfect people play pretend.
Mostly, however, we are encouraged by Jesus’ compassion. Our brokenness may not be as apparent as hers, but it is equally painful and debilitating. Whether hampered by past hurts or craven fear, sincere doubts or stubborn habits, painful failures or lingering illness, Jesus loves to bring healing to us at the point of our deepest hurt. And for that we, like the woman in our story, cannot help but praise and thank God.
In time, she forgot about her misshapen body. But whenever someone’s eyes averted after meeting her own, she remembered.
That’s when she realized that her condition was more than a daily nuisance. She was a public eyesore, a person to be avoided. People viewed her with pity or revulsion, or both.
She was on the outside looking in. Her crooked back was not just uncomfortable for her; it made others uncomfortable around her.
So she learned to cope. She tried not to stick out. She entered late, stayed in the background, and left early.
Word spread that a local celebrity was returning to her small town. As anxious to see him as everyone else, she slipped into the meeting unnoticed.
He paused for a moment, looking intently at her. Or was it her imagination?
“Woman, come here,” he said. Attention was the thing she feared most. Did he really mean for her to stand up in front of all those women and men?
Trembling, she obeyed. Gathering her crooked bones, she made her way to the front. Her crooked condition always worsened when she was self-conscious.
He looks squarely at her. Sensing her embarrassment and fear, he smiled. “Today, you are set free from your sickness.”
Touching her, she instantly felt the life returning to her crooked bones. Cautiously at first, she raised her shoulders, and, unbelievably, she stood up straight. For the first time in eighteen years, she was whole again! Her hands involuntarily raised in joy and gratitude.
But her joy was short-lived. The sound of celebration was quickly quelled by words of condemnation. Quieting the noisy crowd, the moderator spoke directly to her: “There are six days for work. Come to be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath.”
Instinctively she hunched over, slinking toward your seat. Another voice boomed, stopping her in her tracks. “You hypocrite! You permit us to untie an ox on a holy day; why don’t you allow us to untie this woman from her bondage?”
At this, her accuser was humiliated, her community was amazed, and her reproach was removed. And we, two millennia later, still grappled with the lessons of that day, preserved for us in the thirteenth chapter of Luke’s gospel.
We are appalled by the religious leader’s callousness. A woman was healed and he was indignant. She got bent into shape, and he got bent out of shape! How could he be so short-sighted?
And yet if we are honest with ourselves, we acknowledge that we religious-types are sometimes infected by his disease. Like him, we can forget that traditions are here to serve people, not the reverse. God help us remember that our churches should be places where broken people are made whole, not where imperfect people play pretend.
Mostly, however, we are encouraged by Jesus’ compassion. Our brokenness may not be as apparent as hers, but it is equally painful and debilitating. Whether hampered by past hurts or craven fear, sincere doubts or stubborn habits, painful failures or lingering illness, Jesus loves to bring healing to us at the point of our deepest hurt. And for that we, like the woman in our story, cannot help but praise and thank God.