Free...to Love

​In the Gospel reading we just heard, Jesus heals a crippled woman who was bent over and could not stand up straight.
 
As best we can tell, this woman didn’t come to the synagogue that morning looking for healing. She came to the synagogue to do whatever it is she normally does on the sabbath. But Jesus sees her suffering, calls her over, and heals her, without even being asked. It’s yet another display of Jesus’ divine compassion as well as his healing power.
 
But what sticks out for me in this story is Jesus’ odd choice of words when he does the miracle. Jesus says, “Woman, you are set free.” Jesus uses the same phrase at the end of the reading when he responds to the angry leader of the synagogue. “Ought not this woman…be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?”
 
Jesus sets this woman free. That makes this is a story about more than physical healing. It’s a story about Christian freedom. In her particular case, freedom from bondage to the physical ailment that has compromised her life for eighteen years. And, freedom from the limitations that people like the leader of the synagogue want to place upon this woman, using the sabbath law as justification.
 
Now, as I have mentioned before, I am an eldest child. Like many eldest children, especially eldest sons, I appreciate rules. I like knowing what I am supposed to do or not do. I can imagine myself in the synagogue that day agreeing with the synagogue leader that this was NOT how things are supposed to be done.
 
But Jesus never seems to be limited by rules, not even by the rules in God’s law. Indeed, as here, Jesus often seems to make a point of publicly violating the sabbath, particularly when the law of the sabbath stood in the way of human flourishing.
 
And the lesson is clear. For Jesus, freedom from law means the freedom to love, always, no matter the circumstances.
 
Jesus uses his freedom to set this crippled woman free. And this healed woman was called to do the same, to use her new-found freedom to love and serve her neighbors in whatever way she could.
 
The Apostle Paul says that is our calling, too. “You were called to freedom,” he tells us. “Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself’” (Galatians 5:13-14).
 
Jesus’ example and Paul’s words can be hard for eldest children like myself. I want clear instructions on what to do, and what Jesus says is, “you are set free.” I go to Paul for help, and all he adds is, “love your neighbor.”
 
And I think, what does that mean? What does Christian love look like in practice in our ordinary lives?
 
I take as an example my interaction with my somewhat problematic seat companion on my long airline flight home a couple of weeks ago.
 
As I said in my sermon last Sunday, this woman was troubled. In the words of our passage, she was in bondage. Bondage to a bad relationship. Bondage to a serious illness. Bondage to anxiety about our flight.
 
I didn’t feel much like engaging with this woman. And, I didn’t have any obligation to engage with her. She was just a stranger who happened to be assigned the seat next to mine. Nobody could reasonably expect me to do much beyond being civil. Nobody, that is, except Jesus.
 
Looking back at my flight, here is the conversation I imagine having with Jesus once I realized my seat companion was emotionally needy.
 
I imagine Jesus looking at me, but not saying anything at first. That would get uncomfortable pretty quickly, especially if I was feeling a little defensive. So, I start the conversation.
 
“Jesus, I am tired, and this is a long flight. Can you help me out by keeping this woman away from me?”
 
Jesus replies, “Is that really what you want?”
 
I answer, “Well, sure. You can see that she is super-needy. And it’s not like I owe her anything.”
 
Jesus, looking a little doubtful: “That’s true, I suppose. You are free to do what you want. And for the record, I love you no matter what you decide to do.”
 
Me, feeling good about the direction things are going: “So you will keep her away from me?”
 
Jesus, now looking a little sad, a lot like he probably looked when he was trying to teach his disciples and they just didn’t get it: “You know that’s not how I operate, right? You know the stories. People constantly bombarded me with their needs. Do you remember how I responded to them?”
 
Me, now feeling considerably less good about the direction things are going: “It’s not a fair comparison. You’re Jesus! And all I’m asking is a little uninterrupted time for a nap. Surely that’s not too much to ask.”
 
Jesus, more sternly this time: “How do you want me to respond to you, the next time you come to me with your needs? What if I happen to want a nap at the time?”
 
Me, in dismay: “What do you expect me to do?”
 
Jesus: “I don’t expect you to do anything. I don’t insist that you do anything. I’ve already said, ‘I love you,’ and nothing will change that. But here’s a thought. You might try loving this woman as my child and as your sister, and see where that takes you.”
 
Me: “I don’t want to talk to you about this anymore right now.”
 
None of that went through my head while I was on that flight.
 
And here are some things that I know. I really was tired. This woman was a stranger, she was a little problematic, and she had problems that I certainly couldn’t solve.  
 
But here are some other things I know. This woman was scared, and she felt alone in the world. And for a few hours, I could have helped with that. And probably still gotten a nap.
 
On that plane, I didn’t use my Christian freedom as well as I could have. I didn’t love my neighbor as myself. I didn’t show to this woman the kind of love that Christ shows to me. That was a failure, and that was sin.
 
Now, I do not tell this story because it was important. This particular interaction was not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, not to my seat mate and not to me. I haven’t spent the last couple of weeks fretting about it, and I am guessing she has forgotten it entirely.
 
I tell this story not because it was a specially big deal, but because it is typical of the kinds of interactions I have every single day, that all of us have every single day.
 
We are constantly confronted with the wants and needs of the people around us. Always we have the opportunity to respond in love, or to turn away. And most of the time I do whatever I do without seriously pondering the question, what is the loving thing to do or say in this moment?
 
What I wish for myself, what I hope for all of us, what I pray for all of us, is that we can do a little better at remembering that responding to people in love is one of our options, the Christian option, the best option, for the people around us and for ourselves. And I pray that in Christ’s name. Amen.