13^th Sunday after Pentecost August 22, 2010 "Be a Blessing" Reverend Michael D. Powell Luke 13:10-13

Our Gospel story this morning is about Jesus healing a woman whose back was bent out of shape from crippling arthritis. There are many of us with knees and backs and hips and other malfunctioning joints who would love a physical healing and it's easy for us to feel empathy for this woman and want to identify with her.

In some Bibles she’s identified as “the bent woman.” The NRSV we read from this morning has Jesus saying that a spirit had crippled her for eighteen years. There’s no mention of her name. Her only identity seems to be that of a victim. Nothing is said about her family, or whether or not she is able to work. All we know is that she’s bent, different, disabled. How would you like to be immortalized in scripture that way? I don’t know how it actually was, but this story makes it sound like, when people saw her coming down the street, body bent, eyes attempting to lift up from the ground, they didn’t say “Here comes Mary,” or “Look, it’s Elizabeth.” Apparently it was more like, “Here comes the bent woman, the crippled woman.” At least in this Gospel story, her only identity seems to be a description of her disability. Now, that’s a sad story.

But, it happens all the time, doesn’t it? Lynda Sloan talked about it in her sermon. We see the folks holding signs by the side of the road and we don’t even think about what their name might be. “There’s the homeless guy.” Karen and Sue and I are going to the Strength For the Journey Retreat this week, for folks living with HIV/AIDS; so many of the campers we’ll be with suffer from the judgments of others, and from their own inner judgments and sense of shame. Sometimes we judge, ignore or dismiss others, and sometimes others undoubtedly do it to us. Perhaps you’ve experienced going in for a physical, having your naked body prodded and poked, described your most personal symptoms and never once feel like the doctor really even looked you in the eye or saw you for who you are. It happens all the time in so many ways.

The way we are perceived, described or defined by others can have a powerful impact on our own self image, whether we feel blessed or cursed, and that’s at least a part of what today’s Gospel story is about. All of us, to one degree or another, define others and allow others to define us. It’s very difficult to recognize a person of sacred worth if you don’t see them. It’s very difficult to feel like a person of sacred worth when we don’t feel like we’re really seen. It’s hard to peacefully accept who we are when others speak negatively or use impersonal, perhaps even demeaning words to describe us. How can we bless others if we don’t recognize how blessed we are?

Robert Johnson, the noted Jungian analyst, acknowledges how difficult it is for many of us to believe in our own goodness. We more easily take our worst fears and thoughts to be who we are, he says. “Curiously,” writes Johnson, “people resist the noble aspects [of themselves] more strenuously than they hide the dark sides . . .” That word, nobility, does not refer to medieval knights and courts. It derives from the Greek gno (as in gnosis), meaning “wisdom,” or even “inner illumination.” In English, nobility is defined as human excellence, as “that which is illustrious, admirable, lofty, and distinguished, in values, conduct, and bearing.” (Jack Kornfield, The Wise Heart, p. 14) And that’s what we resist in ourselves, our noble aspects? How can that be? We are blessed! We are nobility, created in God’s image as sons and daughters of God, brothers and sisters in Christ. Christ recognizes that nobility, that wisdom and beauty in us, but too often we don’t recognize it in ourselves, or in others.

When this woman meets Jesus, perhaps for the first time in her life, she meets a total stranger who sees her nobility, her dignity, her inner strength and beauty. She experiences blessing, and it is healing! For the first time in her adult life, she is able to stand straight and look straight ahead. Now, what actually happened that day? The way the story is told, it was a literal, immediate and spontaneous physical healing. But, whether or not you believe in miraculous physical healings, there is a powerful teaching here. I’m talking about the way Jesus sees her, speaks to her, and also what he says about her when he describes her to others. He doesn’t call her disabled. He doesn’t label her a victim of life’s unfairness. He doesn’t describe her, or even think of her as a victim, so that her disability defines her whole life. Jesus recognizes her nobility, the God given dignity that every one of us is blessed with.

And, when Jesus describes her to his detractors, he calls her a “Daughter of Abraham” and that’s incredibly significant. Abraham was the God-Father of Israel, the one to whom a promise was given. God promised to make a great nation from Abraham’s seed, a nation through which all the nations of the earth would be blessed. That means she is not only blessed, but her life is meant to be a blessing to others. That inherent nobility which Jesus sees in her, sees in you and me and in every living being, is different than the way we most often see each other, and even ourselves.

We like to think of ourselves as modern and sophisticated, but unconsciously we sometimes lapse into a kind of First Century worldview when it comes to how we feel about health and good fortune, or disease and hard luck. According to the medical/theological understanding of the First Century, illness, poverty, disability, or even being depressed or down on your luck, was taken as proof that you were somehow cursed, out of favor with God, obviously sinful or unclean, which meant you were cut off and excluded from the promise of blessing. We sometimes slip into that, don’t we? How often have you heard it said, or said it yourself, “What have I done to deserve this?” Or, judged another with a dismissive, “God helps those who help themselves” kind of thinking. It’s easy to blame ourselves. It’s tempting to blame the victim.

But the Good News of the Gospel is that’s not how Jesus sees suffering. That’s not how Jesus thinks of this woman, or you and me, or anyone else. Jesus sees a person of sacred worth whom God has created. Jesus names her and describes her in a way that blesses, empowers, and includes her in the community of faith. And, we are told, this grace-filled encounter with Jesus heals her. Jesus blesses this woman as an heir to the love of God and one who is called to be a blessing to the world, and it transforms her whole identity. We are told that she immediately stands up straight and begins praising God.

What happened? How did it happen? I’ll tell you what I believe. I believe that, even if her back had not been physically healed, I think she still would have stood up straight and tall, noble and dignified, because of the way Jesus treated her. I believe that each of us is blessed, and along with that blessing comes a sacred responsibility to bless others, even as we have been blessed. We are meant to bless, respect, honor, and offer God’s reconciling love to others even as it has been offered to us.

We proclaim it every Sunday - that we have a passion to offer God’s Reconciling love to the church, community, and world. What does that look like? There are many, many ways to describe this ministry, but I’ll put it in the simplest, most personal, terms. No matter what your politics, theology or personal strengths or weaknesses, everyone can participate in this ministry. We are called to be a blessing!

Every time we meet another human being, gay, straight, black, white, with or without a disability, young, old, rich, poor, healthy or not, every time we meet another human being and honor their dignity, we offer the gift of reconciliation and help those around us. This is a tangible blessing. You can feel the love. You can discern the difference it makes, and it is healing. Share God’s love with another person, and their hearts will resonate with yours in exactly the same way the strings of an unplucked violin vibrate with the sound of another violin played nearby. Western psychology has even documented this phenomenon of “mood contagion” or limbic resonance. If a person filled with panic or hatred walks into a room, we feel it immediately. In the same way, when a joyful person walks into the room, exuding peace, love, and acceptance, we can feel that as well. That’s an example of a personal ministry of reconciliation. Lord, may we be a blessing. Make us instruments of your peace!

I’ll close with a contemporary example of how this works. Some years ago the Dalai Lama visited the Spirit Rock Meditation Center near San Francisco. The State Department had assigned dozens of Secret Service agents to protect him. Accustomed to guarding foreign leaders in a very cool, professional and impersonal manner, the Secret Service agents were surprisingly moved by the Dalai Lama’s respectful attitude and friendly heart. He seemed to honor every one of them as an individual. At the end, they asked for his blessing and wanted to have a photo taken with him. Several said, “We have had the privilege of protecting political leaders, princes, and prime ministers, yet there is something different about the Dalai Lama. He treats us as if we are special.” (ibid. p. 180)

That’s the way it’s supposed to be! And that’s the way Jesus Christ treated everyone. Like nobility. Like sons and daughters of the Living God. Being seen and known for who we are is healing. It is reconciling. I pray that we come to see ourselves as Jesus sees us, and I pray that we see one another with the healing eyes of Christ. You are blessed. Be a blessing. In his name we gather and pray. Amen.