For eighteen years, a woman was bent over and could not fully straighten herself. For eighteen years, she endured a spirit of infirmity. For eighteen years, she was in bondage to this suffering and torment.
Until
the Lord Jesus came into her life.
Do we
have something to learn from this woman? I think we do. I think we have
patience to learn from her.
The
Philip’s Fast in which we find ourselves is a particularly poignant liturgical
moment for us to reflect upon patience and hope. We are waiting for the coming
of the Lord at Christmas. As Israel prepared for the coming Messiah, so we are
preparing for the second coming of our Lord. As the bent over and infirm daughter
of Abraham waited for her healer with patience and hope, so we are waiting for
our healer and deliverer. Just like her, we don’t know when he is coming, but we know
that he is coming. So let us wait – with patience and with an expectant hope
and not give ourselves over to despair when things are difficult. If we wait
for the Lord, we do not wait in vain.
Through
Isaiah, the Lord God comforted his people with the knowledge that “those who
wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings
like eagles” (Is 40:31). If you can't even stand upright, it is hard to
believe that one day you will fly – that you “shall mount up with wings like
eagles.” But against all doubt and all despair believe it, and wait upon the
Lord. No matter what you or your loved ones are suffering, be assured that your
healer is coming. No matter what chains bind you or what bars enclose you, your
deliverer is coming. His coming is as sure as the rising of the sun.
My soul is waiting
for the Lord. I count on his word.
My
soul is longing for the Lord more than watchman for daybreak.
Let the watchman
count on daybreak
and Israel on the Lord (Psalm 129).
God’s
time is not like our time. In the Chronicles of Narnia, Aslan – who is Lewis’
figure of Christ – tells the children he’ll be back “soon” and they ask him,
“what do you call soon?” And he says, “I call all time soon.” With that in mind, I tell you Christ is coming
soon.
But you know, what is soon to us is not necessarily soon to the Lord. Israel endured 40 years wandering in the wilderness before they could enter the Promised Land. And before that, they endured 400 years of slavery in Egypt before the Lord sent them Moses, their deliverer. But he is always coming. Our deliverer is coming. And when he comes, may he find us waiting for him.
When the
Lord Jesus comes, where does he find the woman in today’s gospel? She is
bent-over and infirm. Does he therefore find her hiding and waiting for death?
No, he finds her in the synagogue where he is preaching. He finds her among the
people who gather to hear the word of the Lord. This daughter of Abraham comes
to the synagogue and there meets the Lord Jesus, who takes away her infirmity
and looses her from her bondage.
Let us all imitate this woman in this. If we are at all able, let us come often to the house of the Lord to worship him and to hear his word, even if to come we must overcome difficulties to do so. When the Lord comes, may he find us here worshipping him and listening to his word. And one day soon, he will take away our infirmities and free us from our bondage.
It is
meaningful what the Lord says to the woman, I think. He says, “Woman, you are
loosed” – “you are released” – “you are set free.” He doesn’t just say to her,
“you are healed,” because he recognizes that the woman has been afflicted and
oppressed for many years by this infirmity. Her spine has been tied up in knots
and Jesus now unties those cords. But this bodily affliction has also weighed
heavily upon her spirit and the Lord is offering her not only healing of body, but also
freedom and deliverance from a spirit
of infirmity. We are body and spirit – never one without the other.
The
woman is bent over in body, but she’s not bowed down by despair. In the face of
her suffering, she has not cursed God and given up hope, as Job’s wife would
recommend and as many do. No, she carries on. She comes again to the synagogue.
She does not give up on God even when, after eighteen years, it may have felt like God had abandoned her to that
torment forever.
It may
have felt that way, but we know that
isn’t true. She didn’t know that
morning, when she struggled for the six-thousandth time to get up and go out,
that this was the day the Lord would
deliver her. But she did know, I think, that her deliverer was coming. It is
the same with us. We can’t know the day or the hour of our deliverance, whether
it will be in this age or in the age to come, but we do know that it is coming.
And so, each day, let us rise up and prepare for the Lord’s coming into our
lives.
We can
know that the Lord wants to be with us – that our sufferings and afflictions
and difficulties – the evil and the death that we contend with daily – is not the
will of the Lord. “God did not make death” (Wisdom). It wasn’t the Lord who
bent this woman. The spirit of infirmity is not the Holy Spirit. It is the Lord
who frees us, not ties us down. It is the Lord who heals us, not afflicts us.
Jesus tells us who this spirit of infirmity is: it is Satan. St. Cyril of
Alexandria affirms: “The accursed Satan is the cause of disease in human
bodies.” Let us not attribute to God the things of Satan. God wants us well, as
Jesus makes clear today.
Soon, to
begin the anaphora, I will say to all, “Let us stand aright; let us stand in
awe; let us be attentive to offer the holy Anaphora in peace.” The liturgy
reveals the will of God for us. He wills that we stand aright in his presence.
And here in his presence is a woman who for eighteen years has not been able to
stand aright. If she were here among us, I would still say “Let us stand
aright,” because that is in fact very like what the Lord did say to her:
“Woman, you are loosed from your infirmity.’ And he lays his hands upon her,
and immediately she is made straight.” She is able to stand aright. This is
what the Lord wills for her and for us.
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