Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Jesus Heals on the Sabbath (Reflections on Pentecost 11, Year C)


So Jesus heals on the Sabbath? Good. That’s what the Sabbath is for, isn’t it? The stuffy leader of the synagogue in the Gospel lesson appointed for Pentecost 11, Year C (Luke 13:10-17) seems to have missed the memo. He quotes only part of the Third Commandment as it appears in Exodus: “Six days you shall labor and do all your work (Ex. 20:9),” but he leaves out the whole rationale for the rule in the first place:

“But the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea and all that is in them, but rested on the seventh day; therefore, the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and consecrated it.” (Exodus 20:10-11)

Get the point? The Sabbath is for rest. Rest restores and heals. It’s necessary. Ever go without sleep? Ever deal with something that was so relentless you couldn’t catch your breath? Sucks, doesn’t it? We need the rest. Our souls need it as well as our bodies. The Sabbath is God’s gift so we can be healed. Nothing should be more natural in the world than that Jesus should see the woman who is in slavery to her affliction, and—without her even asking for it—he calls her over and makes her whole. That’s what the Sabbath is for.

Granted, over the years we Christians have made Sundays as dreary and burdensome as the synagogue leader who gives Jesus a hard time in our Gospel story. In one of my favorite novels, Of Human Bondage, W. Somerset Maugham describes a dreary English Sabbath in which a young boy must suffer through interminable Anglican liturgies in both the morning and evening, interrupted by a monotonous Sunday afternoon in which all activity ceases and an oppressive edict of silence is imposed on the household. It’s shear Purgatory. And it was supposed to be good for the soul.

For me, however, the Sabbaths of my youth were always very pleasant times. I got to see my buddies at church, the folks were friendly, the singing and preaching were joyful, and there was always—even well into my adulthood when my siblings and I had moved out of the family home—family time. We’d gather around the dining table in my parents’ home or at a local restaurant. We’d get caught up. We’d talk about the service we’d just attended or whatever else. After Sunday dinner there was our traditional Sunday snooze. I think the whole clan would hit our bunks and doze off until it was time to watch 60 Minutes. The Sunday afternoon nap was as much a part of Sunday as church and dinner. Even when I went away to graduate school, I pretty much kept up our Griffiths family Sabbath routine.

But today, it’s different for a lot of folks. There’s no rest on the Sabbath. Some people have to hold down more than one job to make ends meet. Sales clerks and waiters don’t get their weekly schedules until the last minute, so they can never commit to weekly worship. The “gig” economy has people working seven days, or so dog tired on a Sunday morning that all they can do is stay in bed. America—once home of the “blue laws” which forbade businesses to be open on Sunday mornings and forbade the sale of alcohol on the Sabbath—has effectively killed the Lord’s Day of Rest.

So, okay. The Sabbath doesn’t have to be a specific day. When I was in seminary I knew a Lutheran pastor from Tanzania who had a seventeen point parish back in his home country. It didn’t matter what the calendar said. Whenever Pastor arrived in the village, that day was Sunday.

Martin Luther interpreted obedience to the Third Commandment as hearing the word of God and learning it. This could be done during a lunch break at Walmart or before a shift at the Taco Bell. I think what’s necessary for the Sabbath is not the liturgy or the trappings of a church building (as much as I love these things), but the quiet moment to come to the Word and know that you are loved and valued. If you can couple that with the fellowship of other believers—with your Christian “family” in whatever form they take—and find a few restful, peaceful, healing moments to do it, so much the better.

A Good Sabbath to you, my friend. Thanks for dropping in.

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