Sunday 21 August: Isaiah 58: 9b-14, Hebrews 12: 18-29 and Luke 13: 10:17
Jesus and the Bent Over Woman
by Barbara Schwarz OP. 2014
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
Words from the poet Langston Hughes:
Perhaps it’s something that poets and prophets have in common: they hold fast to dreams. Perhaps, that’s even more important when the land around us is parched, when sewage gushes into seas and humanity is thirsty.
They hold fast when we want to see longings of our hearts quenched; they dream when we want to see neighbours unburdened, relationships repaired and our city built up.
Now we need the poets and prophets; to hold the dreams and not let them die or go.
We need to learn from them in our dreaming: straining against broken wings and barren fields and frozen hearts so that life, like a bird might fly.
Hold fast to dreams.
Hughes was twentieth-century black American poet who was described has having an ‘anonymous unity with his people’. Avoiding both sentimentality and stereotypes he attends to stories of joy and hardship, money and relationships, work and seeking work.
He wanted to hold fast to a dream: that humanity in all its diversity longed for security. The violation of those things offended his conviction that humanity is possessed of the divinity of God. Yet he hoped - he held fast to a dream - that the world and her people could understand each other.
Isaiah too is holding fast to a dream. It’s a dream of the establishment of peace and security; of social life flourishing across generations. This is God’s dream.
There’s a poetic rhythm to our translation of the Hebrew: rebuild, raise up and repair.
Holding fast to a dream speaks to places, people and responsibility: rebuilding the places where people live; raising people up and providing a foundation across generations; repairing the breach, those things which have come under strain, through the work of reconciliation.
Hold fast to this dream is rooted in the sabbath principal: a revolutionary habit of work balanced by rest and liberation. Isaiah words demand that we refrain from self-interest.
Instead, delight is to be found in removing burdens from others: the yokes that are carried are removed by the provision of food and the satisfying of needs.
We might paraphrase Isaiah as a dream of freedom from all that diminishes human life and access to those things which allow everyone to flourish.
This is God’s dream for human beings - relationships of support not exploitation; it’s God’s dream for the world - waters refreshing the parched places.
Then there will be light in darkness.
The Word of God is that light - a light that stoops down into darkness in Jesus.
In the exchange we hear in today’s Gospel, dreams are held fast and made real.
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
We know very little about the woman who comes to the synagogue: but imagine for a moment walking in her steps.
Bent over and moving forward, yet seeing only a very little way ahead.
A world of feet moving around her but without eye contact.
Feeling the heat of the day and cool of the night but not seeing the sun set or moon rise. The mental and physical labour of each moment; and the isolation of not being seen; of going unnoticed.
Yet she goes to synagogue; and today a teacher notices her. Jesus breaks off his words and sees her, addresses her; and sets her free.
His touch relieves the yoke; her body moves in a new way; her perspective shifts; her lips sing God’s praise.
She stood up straight: released from her burdens.
The light breaks in at that moment. The crushed spirit, the hurting body, the lonely soul are met with compassion and restored to community. The dream of God’s Kingdom breaks in; life is no longer a broken winged bird that cannot fly.
There will be times in our lives when we feel that the yoke of our circumstances weigh us down: financial pressures, grief, loss of agency, illness or injury, isolation.
May this worshipping community to be palace where we are noticed, beloved, invited, set free.
All of us will know or encounter those who are exhausted, weighed down, marginalised: because of age or ethnicity or sexuality or gender; because of fears about the cost of living, finding a job, passing exams or mental health.
May this place - and our way of relating day by day - give encouragement, release and dignity.
God we hold fast to dreams. To God’s dream - a dream that goes beyond a collection of self-interests to the flourishing as humanity as one community, one family. God won’t accomplish it without us; we can’t accomplish it by ourselves. With God we can - and each of us, individually and together, have a part to play in the healing of the world; of setting others free.
That means living some space for God to surprise us. Luke tells us that the leader of the synagogue protested because Jesus stopped teaching, noticed the woman and acted with compassion; he rightly wanted to honour the sabbath, holding the commandments of faith and love. But perhaps like him, we sometimes hold on to what we know and do, that we miss the moment dream becomes reality.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
In Hebrews we’re invited to hold those two things together: our worship and God’s kingdom. In doing so, we honour the hope of sabbath rest and freedom.
The writer of Hebrews sets out the destination: an unshakeable kingdom. They also plot the the journey thought images that offer security of people and place: a holy mountain, a vibrant city, a diverse gathering and assembling before God.
Like the woman, we are children of a compassionate God. To be human is to be worthy of love and dignity.
As we receive the gift and nourishment of the sacrament; as we are touched by words of forgiveness and blessing, may we find ourselves standing upright, set free to praise God.
As we worship in reverence and awe, may we hold fast to the dream expressed by prophets and poets; the dream of restoration that Jesus brings. May the Spirit move us, equip us, inspire us to restore others to community; to notice those who’re weighed down to respond with compassion.
In a fearful world, a world where many are denied dignity: hold fast to dreams, heal broken wings, quench parched fields, raise one another up. Amen.
© Julie Gittoes 2022
