Daughter of Abraham and Child of God

Beloved of God, grace to you and peace from God our Creator and the Savior of the world Jesus the Christ. Amen.

Last week, I had a meeting with a woman named Karen at a support center for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender youth, families, and individuals. Karen is a person with a large personality and spirit, and interwoven between telling about the Center she shared information about her personal life: she was born and raised in the Midwest, teaching for many years before only three years ago moving to the La Crosse area to be closer to family. Only then did she discover the center and its resources. She shared of health concerns, and of the moment she met her fiancée, Amy. She said over and over again – “that no one would want to love me. Here I was, in the hospital, several surgeries, a broken and sick person. I thought the best years of my life were beyond and behind me.” And then, as though God had a plan, came along Amy. They’ve been together for a time now and are planning on marrying in October. She kept reiterating throughout our conversation – “I am so glad she loves me.” In a time when Karen felt separation from community, God brought Amy into her life to remind her of her belonging.

Today’s Gospel text meets us in the same space of the impossible being made possible. Of what feels far-fetched coming into reality. Today, we meet Jesus teaching at one of the synagogues on the Sabbath day. While he is going along teaching, a woman appears. The author reveals parts of her life that would have made her an outcast in society: she captive by a spirit, crippled for eighteen long years. The woman does not say anything to Jesus, rather, in this moment all of the words of proclamation come from Christ himself. By the laying on of hands, the woman is healed – she stands, and begins to praise God in response to her cure. This is not where the story ends, however. The healing done by Jesus has upset many religious standards and expectations. It is the Jewish day of Sabbath, where traditionally no work was to be done. Sabbath was (and is) a period where the removal of the expectations of society around work and productivity was forgone so that God might be contemplated and experienced in a new way. Anything that was thought of as work went against that expectation, an affront to God’s desire for humanity to hallow the seventh day and keep it holy. It is in the midst of people who hold these views that Jesus lays hands on a woman and heals her. He uses sharp language: “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water?” Jesus has probably seen some in the synagogue breaking the Sabbath rule – so what should stop Jesus from healing a woman in the same breath?

In healing this woman, Jesus does something interesting. In his response to the outraged leader of the synagogue, Jesus calls the woman a “daughter of Abraham”. This does several things – it indicates not only the woman’s faithfulness, but also ties her to a lineage that is long and a faith tradition of following God that is rooted in the ancestral story of creation, exodus, homecoming, and conquest. The woman’s ailment – now cured by Jesus – is part and parcel of her whole being, created in the divine image of the God of Abraham. Her illness, carried with her for 18 years, must have created Exodus-sized questions – “Where is God in the middle of my suffering? What have I done to warrant this?” as she saw separation from society and community according to Jewish customs. By calling the woman a “daughter of Abraham”, Jesus recalls her fullest identity – both including and simultaneously beyond that which ailed her.

So often, my friends, are we met with situations that feel certainly impossible – we feel separation in relationships. Maybe our financial situation isn’t as healthy as we would like it to be. Sometimes we encounter unexpected grief, diagnoses. Sometimes we might feel as if we aren’t worthy of attention or love. Sometimes we feel the weight of hurt committed or hurt caused. Sometimes we wonder where God is in the midst of it all. If this story tells us anything, it is that Jesus shows up in those moments precisely when our circumstances feel impossible – impossible by the voice of society or impossible by our own determination. God shows up in Jesus and reminds us who we belong to – just as the woman was a daughter of Abraham so are we children of God. And nothing – not an 18 year disease, not our worst fears, not our separation from one another because our culture tells us to fall into line with those we agree with – absolutely nothing can separate us from that fundamental truth that transcends all else. God gives us our community to remind us this truth – as we see at the end of our story for today, the entire crowd was rejoicing at all of the wonderful things Jesus was doing in his healing and teaching. And so, we too, gather together and rejoice at what God is doing in our midst.

I think that as the church, we can do more to engage this reality that God will show up in the midst of what seems impossible. I encourage you throughout this week to expect, rather than assume, that God will be present. Dare to commit to a routine of prayer that engages your fears, your hopes, your dreams. Be present with one another. Listen deeply. I think that we might be surprised – that just when the road of faith feels long, when we start to forget to whom we belong – God will be present. It is in this truth that we worship and in this truth that we hope, celebrate, and rejoice. God has called us God’s children, and we are called to live fully into that identity. Then, and only then, will we be released from that which holds us in bondage, into the fullness of freedom to serve God and our neighbors. Thanks be to God for our ministry together, and most of all, thanks be to God. Amen.