10 Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. 11 And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. 12 When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” 13 When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. 14 But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the Sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured and not on the Sabbath day.” 15 But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger and lead it to water? 16 And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?” 17 When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame, and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things being done by him.
Luke 13:10-17
My sermon from the 11th Sunday after Pentecost (August 24, 2025) on Luke 13:10-17.
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One of the interesting things about having the same cell phone number I signed up for my freshman year of college is that most people don’t know what to do when a random 607 number shows up on their phone. The people who don’t have me saved in their contacts usually respond in two ways. First, I’ll be immediately sent to voicemail where I leave a message I hope doesn’t sound as awkward to them as it does to me. The second way folks respond, which happens way less, is they actually pick up and begin with a “hello” that feels like a question and an accusation all at the same time. They assume the number labeled “Binghamton, New York” interrupting their day must be some kind of scam. And with that one word, we sum up our collective angst, frustration, and unhappy acceptance that being negatively interrupted is simply a part of life. Every time we sit down, take a breath, or pick up a book, there’s always a dog that needs to be walked, a cat who wants to be fed, a child asking us what their favorite youtube video is to call, and a series of notifications from countless apps telling us to get up, sit down, buy something, or to watch this video designed to make our blood boil. Our attention and focus are a currency that’s always in circulation and there’s someone or thing promising their interruption will be the one that finally makes us whole and complete. Some days, all we want is a few moments for our soul to be completely undivided and directed towards what we’re supposed to do. But then a presence, a vibe, or a person interrupts us and we suddenly discover we are made for so much more.
I like to imagine today’s reading from the gospel according to Luke to be a kind of interruption within an interruption. Jesus’ climatic journey from Galilee to Jerusalem brought him into towns and villages where his mere presence interrupted their daily life. All of the sudden, their curiosity, their questions, their conflicts, and their needs came pouring out. When the kingdom of God shows up, life happens. And it was during weekly sabbath worship in a synagogue when an unnamed woman walked in while Jesus was speaking. Now it was a tradition for communities in Jesus’ day to invite religious leaders and traveling rabbis to read a piece of scripture and offer their own teaching and interpretation during worship. Unlike other stories in Luke, we’re not told which piece of scripture Jesus read out loud or what, exactly, he was teaching. What we hear instead is how a woman’s presence interrupted him. She is, from our perspective, a bit of a mystery. We don’t know her name, her age, if she had a family or if she spent her days begging for food in the marketplace. We don’t even know what caused her to be bent though some biblical commentators speculate the bones in her spine fused together, leading to long years spent stiff, exhausted, and in chronic pain. The life she lived could have been incredibly isolating as she managed her condition as well as dealing with those who acted as if she had brought all of this onto herself. The more bent her body became, the smaller her world grew and I wish we heard what was going through her mind when she went to worship that day. Did she know Jesus would be there? Was she frustrated by how late she knew she would be since her body moved so slow? Did she almost give up going to synagogue at all? Or was it a community that felt like home since the text doesn’t act as if people were surprised, angry, or upset that she was there? We have no idea if she came to worship that day expecting her life to be interrupted. But when Jesus saw her – her presence interrupted whatever he was about to say. And he could do nothing less than notice her, pay attention, discern her entire story, and interrupt her life with compassion, hope, and love.
Yet it’s at that moment when the grumbling started. It appeared a religious leader and probably others within the community weren’t thrilled with what they just saw. Now the healing wasn’t the issue. Rather, what bothered them was when the healing happened. I’ll admit that sounds a little weird but I also think we should give the grumblers a little slack. They had, faithfully and spiritually, come up with a rhythm for the sabbath that interrupted their ordinary day. Instead of being in the field, the marketplace, or out in a boat catching some fish, they were spending time away from what they usually do to listen to God and to one another. The sabbath, then, was a moment when the regular interruptions of our lives were pushed aside so our undivided attention could be directed towards the One who made us, loves us, and who is always with us. What the grumblers imagined the Sabbath did was interrupt our interruptions so we could just be. The Sabbath was a break from our so-called “normal” but it wouldn’t, necessarily, interrupt things as they already were. Jesus, however, saw the Sabbath as something more. It isn’t merely a rest or a pause to help us manage everything that comes next. The sabbath is an interruption meant to break through everything that doesn’t give us life. When God paused during the story of creation, God wasn’t merely taking a breath before getting back to doing what God always does. Instead, God was inserting into the world a promise that you are always more than what you do. You are not only what happens to do you. And your illness, your schedule, your situation, your condition, and all the interruptions that take you out of your life is not the limit of who you are. You are a beloved child of God, created to be known, seen, and loved. And the sabbath is for you in ways the rest of the week is not. Now experiencing the Sabbath might require us to purposefully stop what we’re doing instead of seeing this day as an opportunity to do some yardwork or start one more load of laundry. But this could also be a moment when we choose to not let our interruptions interrupt the gifts God has given us. We can let the Sabbath be a picture for what life can be and wonder what kind of interruptions we – and those around us – need to break the pain, suffering, anger, and loneliness that does its best to consume us. The Sabbath is meant to be a moment of compassion and care that does more than simply prepare us for the week that comes. It, instead, transforms it because God’s love for you changes everything into something new. We don’t always know when a phone call or a notification or an event or an experience or when a million other things will suddenly interrupt our day. But we can embrace the interruption God gives us in the Sabbath because wholeness is God’s wish for you and for the world. Life isn’t meant to exhaust us nor are we called to exhaust and use up the lives of those around us. Instead, God’s mercy and hope interrupts all our lives so that we can discover just how life-giving we can be.
Amen.