Freedom-Jesus-style

 

(Read Luke 13:10-17) - now, just imagine watching this exchange.

Other translations tidy up the scene for us – this is Jesus, after all, and we imagine some decorum. Civilized debate is what we’d prefer from Jesus – this is God’s temple, after all. But Eugene Peterson helps us paint a different picture – one that feels (and sounds) for me a little more like real life – because real life is what we’re faced with – and what Jesus endured – so just think about how you’d respond to this scene…would you cheer? Would you resent Jesus for ‘causing a scene?’ we aren’t always comfortable with the unexpected – especially in worship; especially where our beliefs are concerned. And Jesus is famous for introducing us to the unexpected.

Jesus offers freedom – in a place devoted to worship of God and teaching about God’s ways – and that offer is received badly by the people in charge…because they imagine that are in charge.

The sabbath worship had a strict order – to honour God we must act in a certain way – there are rules, you see, because God likes rules…at least, that is the argument some will use.

The meeting-house president rails at the crowd – telling them off for daring to present their problems before God on the Sabbath (don’t come here on the sabbath hoping to be healed…)

It would be like me telling pretending I can control the way you encounter God through this worship service – daring to think that only I can tell you how to find peace – or to encounter grace – or to feel the presence of God. (for the record, that’s not how it works.)

Worship attendance for many folks can become a place where you wait your whole life to feel as good as the leader says you should feel – to experience the things that the tradition says you need to experience – and so you wait, and wonder what it is you are doing wrong; how have you failed God because you haven’t had the ‘mountain-top experience…

How many of you have encountered church in that way?

I’ve heard enough stories – and I’ve experienced for myself in the past  the challenging relationship people have with their communities of faith. Whether it was being segregated into church school as children (or teachers!); hushed by parents (or strangers) during some part of the service; being stared at as a newcomer – or stared out of someone’s pew (if you were from here, you’d know that was Roger’s family pew…)  I’ve tried (in the past) to say the words and mean them that would put me on the side of the saved (for the record, that’s not how it works.) There are communities of faith that promise you the moon in return for you obedience and undivided loyalty. There are places where the rules are more important than the wonder of discovery or the sense of awe that comes from learning that you are a flawed, but much beloved child of God.  There are too many places where church hasn’t moved so far from the attitude expressed by the worship leader in Luke 13.

We have only good intentions. We are trying to offer worship worthy of the Lord of all Creation. There is an order to things that (we imagine) must be observed – and I’m not gonna lie, such order brings comfort to me as a leader and as a worshipper. I like to know what’s next – I like to settle in to a pattern – disruptions are difficult for me.

 

 

Not the crying baby, or the snoring senior or the homeless person who paces the aisle – not like that; the disruptions that make me nervous are the kind that Jesus takes in stride; a woman in need, who moves Jesus to act. A miracle in the midst of the mundane. God breaking through. When that happens (and it happens all the time!) it leaves me speechless. So much of what happens in worship is predictable. So much of what God is up to is not, and it’s taken me fifteen years of ordained ministry to come to terms with that – especially when it happens in a service I’m conducting.

An orderly approach is all well and good – but rest on the sabbath does not mean no good can be done – rest means rest from our labours but also relief from our burdens and, in this case, restoration of health and wholeness. The ‘work’ Jesus is accused of doing is nothing less than life-giving. And isn’t that what worship is all about?

I’ve never seen someone healed in a service – but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened. Sometimes, it is happening to me.

Our ancestors-in-the-faith built monuments to their devotion – buildings with fine furnishings such as the one we are blessed to inhabit as a congregation. Our tradition is famous for doing things ‘decently and in good order’ (for the record, we’re not always so good at that…) Our parents and grandparents tell us stories of ‘the good old days’ when Sunday was for worship, and nothing else – no one worked – no one played – the rules were clear, and strictly enforced. And the wonders of God were often lost to the noise about rule breaking and Sabbath keeping. We could be the target of Jesus’ scorn, but we are also targets of Jesus’ mercy.

The grace we find in Jesus is not subject to rules and regulations. In Jesus, God reminds us that grace IS the rule. Our halting, obstinate, and well-meant devotion to order as an expression of faithfulness can be overcome by the mercy of Jesus who stands in our midst to remind us that we’re free: free from having to prove ourselves worthy; free from feeling like we must mind the rules for the sake of salvation. Salvation doesn’t need our protection – salvation defies our definition.

Wonderous things are happening – God is at work, 24/7/365. Some rules, it turns out, were made to be broken.

So, what will God do in our midst today?