God Interrupts Us With Moments of Grace

Brad Sullivan

Proper 16, Year C

August 18, 2016

Saint Mark's Episcopal Church, Bay City, TX

Jeremiah 1:4-10

Luke 13:10-17

God Interrupts Us With Moments of Grace

 Last Sunday, we heard about Jesus saying that he came to bring division, and today, we heard about that division actually happening.  Jesus was teaching in a Synagogue, and then he stopped teaching to heal a woman who came to hear him.  We’re told she had been stooped over for 18 years, so it was known that this woman was almost crippled, and then with a word and a touch, Jesus turns chiropractor and heals her body so she can stand up straight and walk and move well.  We hear the leader of the Synagogue then, basically telling this woman she was wrong for coming to the Synagogue and making sure no one else makes such a mistake.  Rather than berate Jesus for healing her, the leader says 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.”  Hey guys, don’t mess up like she did.  Come back on Sunday or Monday if you need to be healed, not Saturday.

 It seems awful, horrible of him to say that.  Of course she should be able to come to Synagogue, and of course if Jesus is there when she is there, he should be allowed to heal her.  He technically “worked” on the sabbath, but so what, it’s the power of God bringing healing to the world.  That’s what we think when we hear this story, but what if it were to happen here?

Imagine one of our parishioners reading one of the lessons Sunday morning, and then deciding he is going to heal someone within the parish.  He stops reading mid-lesson, and walks out into the congregation.  He turns to one of our beloved brothers or sisters who isn’t physically able, who can’t walk well, who is stooped over, and he says to them, “In the name of Jesus, be healed,” and he touches them, and suddenly they have strength in their arms and legs.  They can stand up straight and walk and move like they haven’t been able to for 30 years.

What do we do at that point?  “Ok, everyone, let’s sit back down for the second lesson.”  Nope, that doesn’t quite work.  There would be a myriad of reactions from all of us.  Some would be praising God.  Some would be afraid.  Some would be asking to be healed too.  Some probably would be wondering, “How much longer is this going to take?  Can we get on with communion?”  “My favorite hymn was next, come on, let’s sing.”

What does the preacher do at that point?  What do I say to follow up that?  Are we going to stop having services here on Sunday because folks from all over are going to start coming here for healing?  I can see the synagogue leader saying, “Don’t come here for healing on the sabbath.”  Can you do that healing thing in the parish hall next time, maybe in between services? Hopefully we’d just allow ourselves to be there in the presence of God made manifest in the healing, but I can see where the leader reacted badly, not quite knowing what in the world to do at that point.  I can see where the people would have been divided over their reactions to Jesus, some praising God, some afraid, some wanting to follow him, some wishing he’d not interrupt their comfortable service of teaching and worship ever again.

God interrupts us.  People interrupt us.  How do we respond when we are interrupted from our comfortable worship and walk with God?  I’m trying to pray here, how dare you interrupt me with you problems.  We’re trying to pray here, how dare you let your children make noise.  I love worship the way I like it; how dare you change something?

 My first Sunday here, we had a pretty big interruption as Will Scott, and I think he passed out, I don’t exactly remember what happened at this point, but there was some commotion back there.  So I went back to see what was happening, and he was lying down, I think one of our nurses was back there with him, and someone had called for an ambulance, so I prayed over Will and then went back up and we continued on with the service.  The paramedics arrived and we continued on, and then before they took him to the hospital, we stopped the service again and had a group prayer for Will.  Then we continued on with the service again.  He ended up just fine after that.

 We got to take this interruption and see it for what it was, a moment of grace.  Those with the ability got to care for Will, the rest of us got to pray for Will, and continued to get to worship and share communion.  The interruptions didn’t mess up the service.  They made it more beautiful.

 In other times and ways in which our prayers and our worship gets interrupted, maybe the interrupters really are just being jerks, or maybe the interruptions are moments of the presence of God breaking through so that we can be taken out of our comfort and routine and brought into the grace of God.

Perhaps the loud and busy child is a moment of grace, a chance for another adult to join with the parents to offer some loving support and attention to the child.  The person offering support would be brought out of their usual worship and brought into the grace of communion with a young family, showing them that they and their children and beloved and belong.

Perhaps the myriad distractions and interruptions we face each day are likewise moments of grace, opportunities for us to let some harrowed person know that they are worthwhile, that they are worth our time and attention.  That may seem a small thing, but being worthy of someone’s time and attention is at the core of what it is to be human.

God told Jeremiah, “before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.”  We apply that verse to all people, saying that before all of us were formed in the womb, God knew us.  We are all worthy of God’s notice, of God’s time and attention.  We were not made to be alone.  We were not made to be discarded.  We were made to be connected to each other.  We were made to be worthy of each others’ notice, to be worthy of each others’ time and attention.

 The discarded woman in our Gospel story today was worthy of Jesus’ notice, worthy of his time and attention.  People in our pews who are by themselves, who are struggling with kids are worthy of our loving and caring notice, worthy of our loving and caring time and attention.  People whom we don’t like that much, or know but don’t see all that often are worthy of our notice, worthy of our time and attention.  People at the bottom of our society, those often discarded, are worthy of our notice, worthy of our time and attention.

 The world was interrupted by one such person couple of weeks ago with the photograph of a young Syrian boy.  He had survived the bombing of a building and he sat in shock in an ambulance, blank-faced, covered in dust and blood.  The world began taking notice again of the innocents of Syria, remembering that these people are worthy of notice, worthy of time and attention.  I don’t know that a whole lot is going to actually change, as those in control of the situation in Syria (Russia, ISIS, the Syrian government) simply don’t care enough (or at all) about the least among them, the weak and the discarded.  They care about their struggles for power, not about the discarded people living and dying beneath the weight of their power.

When we are annoyed by people when they interrupt us, when we disregard the least among us, when we don’t acknowledge or notice the worth of people, when we don’t give time and attention to those worthy of our time and attention, we’re not exactly bombing them and leaving them in shock, covered in dust, rubble, and blood.  At the same time, like Russia, ISIS, and the Syrian government, we are still disregarding people who are worthy of our notice, worthy of our time and attention.  When we’re annoyed by people when they interrupt us and don’t acknowledge their worth, we’re like the leader of the synagogue who said, “Don’t be healed today, come back tomorrow.”

 I don’t say this to make us feel badly about ourselves, but rather to keep us from noticing the specks in other peoples’ eyes while ignoring the logs in our own.  I also bring this up because we all want to feel worthy of notice, worthy of time and attention, love and belonging.  The more we give that notice, that worth to others, the more we will believe in our own worth, the more we will believe that we are worthy of notice, that we are worthy of peoples’ time and attention, their love and belonging.  That’s life in Jesus’ kingdom.  That’s life through the eyes and heart of Jesus.  People and the myriad interruptions they bring aren’t times to be lamented.  Rather, people and their myriad interruptions are moments of grace where we have the opportunity to affirm in others and in ourselves the great love of God and the great worth which we all share, being worthy of notice, worthy of time and attention, worthy of love and belonging.  Amen.