The Bent Over Woman

The story of the bent over woman can be found in Luke 13:10-17. Of all the unnamed women in the Bible, this woman's story is possibly my favorite. It speaks to me of charity and justice. It reminds me that as long as one person remains bent over, we all do. It reminds me that we all have a responsibility to reach out and help those who cannot help themselves. Let me share her story with you as it was shared with me by Helen Bruch Pearson in Do What You Have The Power To Do.

"Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem when he stopped at one of the local synagogues. It was his custom to preach and teach wherever he could, and this Sabbath day was no exception. Word had spread that Jesus was in town - the very same Jesus who had cast out demons and made the blind to see, the deaf to hear, the lame to leap, and the oppressed to sing and dance with joy. It was this Jesus who was to preach and teach at their synagogue on this sabbath!

Every Jewish community had a synagogue. It was used as a meeting place for prayer and worship services. It also had an area for the study of and discussion about the Torah - God's laws by which they lived. People gathered from the town and the surrounding villages. They found their way into the synagogue and claimed their rightful places - the men in the main area of the synagogue and the women separated and hidden behind a kind of grill work with the children and the slaves. They gathered to witness the presence of the one whom others claimed to be a miracle worker. Perhaps this day they would see and hear for themselves what Jesus was all about.

At the very back of the room behind the grill work and close to the women's entrance could be seen a grotesque shadow. Nothing but a shadow - or so it seemed - gave shape to the figure of a woman bent double. Curved and folded in upon itself, the deformed body had been her burden to carry for eighteen years. And worse, it was said that she was demented - possessed by a demon and bound by Satan. Surely she must have transgressed God's law and sinned mightily to have been afflicted with such a terrible, ugly visible sign of her disobedience.

Cast out to exist on the edges of her community beyond any companionship and contact, this woman was treated as a 'no thing'. This crippled, bent over woman reminded too many people that God might someday find them out and visit them with affliction, laying bare before the townspeople all the hypocrisies they had spent a lifetime covering and masking. This woman represented the incarnation of their secret sins and the culmination of their worst nightmares. If the people had not been so preoccupied with Jesus's visit, they would have noticed her and denied her entrance into the synagogue. She certainly had no business being where she was on that day!

All was quiet. Anticipation hung in the air with the incense. Jesus stepped forward and held up the Torah to read God's word. He paused long enough to look at the faces watching him. Here was a man who would teach them with authority and not like their own scribes - or so it seemed. Perhaps all that they had heard about Jesus was really true.

But what about that shadow of a woman - the one with the misshapen body who slouched and leaned against the wall? She could not see Jesus, yet she knew he was looking at her. She could feel the congregation turn toward her. In their turning, she knew she was no longer invisible. At the same time, it was frightening, but since she had nothing to lose, she gave herself over to whatever was about to happen.

Jesus called her. Out loud. In public. In the synagogue. It was strictly forbidden by rabbinic law that a man give any public recognition to a woman - let along speak openly to one. But here was Jesus - this unorthodox preacher - calling her to him. Surely there must be some mistake. He should not be addressing her. Not the hunchback possessed with a spirit of infirmity. Not the one from whom people recoiled and for whom they stepped aside to avoid the risk of her touch. But there was that clear voice again. Jesus was calling her to come to him.

Jesus's speech parted the crowd, and there she was! This time people moved away not to avoid her, but to look at her. It was as if for the first time in eighteen years, she really existed. Above the murmuring of the assembly, the shuffle of her sandals against the hard floor echoed throughout the synagogue. Each step seemed an eternity of slow, awkward, painful motion, but Jesus was in no hurry. In that long moment between where she had been and where she was going, she knew it was not the ruler of the synagogue who was in charge. It was Jesus who was Lord of the sabbath in this place. This was Jesus' holy time to do with as he wished. And Jesus had chosen to devote it to her.

She stood in front of him. Bowed in upon herself - just as she was. Because she could not lift her head, she could see only his hands and his feet. She wondered what his face looked like - this teacher, who through the power of his voice parted the crowd and made her feel whole. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen.

'Woman,' Jesus said, 'Woman, you are freed from you infirmity. Rid of your ailment. Set free from this disease. You are no longer bound. Woman... you are free!'

Those words spilled over her like sweet perfume and baptized her with new possibilities. They anointed her lonely, parched heart. They loosened the vicious pain of bone and tissue and sinew that had for days and years turned in upon her body.

'Woman," Jesus was saying again to her, 'you are free from your infirmity.'

This was the awful terrifying moment of decision. Did she really want to be free? The infirmity that possessed her - it was familiar. She knew its name. She knew her limits. She knew the predictable responses of the community. She had come to accept that she was to blame for her ailment. And strange and foolish as it might seem, there was comfort and security to be found in the familiarity of it all. She occupied a place that demanded little from her. She could exist day by day without much risk - as long as she stayed in her place and kept away from people. What had seemed like powerlessness, when confronted with the awesome responsibility of freedom, began to take on a power of its own.

In that moment between sickness and health, between brokenness and wholeness, the woman knew the decision was hers to make. She was held between the tenacious grasp of a familiar past and the dreadful promise of a future yet unshaped by the demands of healing and peace and justice. While she knew she could not make herself well, she did know that she could refuse the gift of healing offered by Jesus. She could choose to remain bound and unfree.

Jesus waited. He waited until he knew her heart had decided, and then he reached toward her and laid his hands upon her. It was like awakening from a cramped position in a long hard sleep. No longer bent over, her body still ached from all those years of being folded in upon itself. And it ached from the unspeakable goodness and joy of the miracle that lifted her upright once more. For the first time in eighteen years, she could see straight ahead of her. She could look people squarely in their faces. A simple thing most people never think about, but this woman knew it to be a miracle. It was into the eyes of Jesus that she first looked, and in the looking, she knew the source of her healing and her salvation. And she praised God!

There they were - all the critics of Jesus circled together around the synagogue ruler. They were indignant, frustrated, and deeply angered. They had been publicly humiliated and chastised. How dare Jesus cause this kind of commotion among the people - and in their synagogue! How dare he take the sabbath away from them - and all at the cost of their self esteem! The rumors were right. He was a dangerous man - this Jesus! Not only had he healed a worthless woman but he had gained the confidence and support of the entire congregation. He held them spellbound with his words and his actions. This man would have to be destroyed.

But I need not repeat this story to you. you have been in the synagogue from the beginning of this story until now. You watched the responses of those in the congregation. Perhaps you were even surprised at some of your own responses. Old prejudices and broken relationships that keep you bent over still reside in the dark places of your heart. And yes, Jesus saw you. He held you in his glance as he looked over the congregation - for what seemed like forever. When he named some in the congregation 'Hypocrites!' you could not escape the cutting edge of his accusation. And when Jesus proclaimed release and freedom for the bent over woman, you participated in that healing. When Jesus touched her, he touched you. When she stood up, you were lifted. When she praised God, your doxology was raised. And it seemed like you stood tall and straight for the first time in many years. If one of God's sons or daughters is bent over, we are all stooped and diminished. No one stands upright alone!

Like the bent over woman who had to choose between freedom and bondage - between brokenness and wholeness - you have the opportunity to write the end of this story, for it is your story, too. How will you choose? What will you do?"