Hebrews 12. 18-29; Luke 13, 10-17.
I wonder how you picture God?
At home I have a collection of images of the divine from some of the Eastern religions, known to my children as “Mum’s heathen gods”.
There are Hindu gods, with their many arms to show their powers and characters, some of them, like Ganesha and Hanuman, with animal heads. Then there are the different images of Buddhas, some fat and jolly, some serene and detached from the world.
I’ve got fewer images from the Christian tradition, but I do have icons and photos on my wall which portray Jesus, Mary and the Trinity in different ways. One of the things I have asked people to do during Confirmation preparation is to draw their idea of God, and that brings interesting responses. You tend to get lots of elderly men with beards, sandals and long white robes; but one 14 year old girl drew a picture of the world cradled in loving hands – which I thought showed some spiritual maturity.
In Judaism and Islam, you have a prohibition on making images or drawing pictures of God, and some strands of Christianity have also observed this at different times. So in these religions you tend to get pictures of God drawn with words. Christianity in particular has gone in for defining God by creeds and statements. But another way of giving a picture of God is through stories. It’s a way Jesus used, through his parables, and it’s also one way used by the Gospel writers, as they tell us about how Jesus acted.
In our Gospel reading today, Luke gives us two opposing pictures of God. On the one hand, Jesus shows a God who relates to humanity through grace, compassion and inclusion. He sees the woman’s need and responds to it, even though she hasn’t asked for help. He calls her from the edge of the synagogue (which symbolises her exclusion from active society as a result of her ailment) and places her in the centre. He lays hands on her – breaking all the taboos in the Old Testament Holiness Code on interaction between male and female – and tells her to stand up straight and hold her head high. He makes her well, restoring not just her health but her place in society. He calls her a ‘daughter of Abraham’ emphasising her dignity, and her equality with the men around her.
On the other hand, the leader of the synagogue demonstrates his belief in a God who relates to humanity through law, fear and exclusion. His only concern was with the rules, especially the complicated oral law which specified what a faithful Jew could or could not do on the Sabbath. To break that law risked angering God. His spiritual blindness meant that he could not rejoice in the good done by Jesus, simply because he judged it was done at the wrong time. He was so keen to obey the letter of the law, that he failed to observe its spirit.
According to Deuteronomy, the purpose of the Sabbath law was to celebrate release from oppression and slavery, yet this man could not rejoice in the release of the woman from oppression by the evil of sickness. His misjudgement about the purpose of the Sabbath was compounded by his own hypocrisy: he would work if it was necessary to feed or rescue one of his animals, but he could not accept healing done on this day.
Pointers to both the God of law and the God of grace can be found in the Jewish tradition. Particularly after the exile in Babylon, strict adherence to the Law and separation and exclusion were seen as the way of preserving Jewish identity and loyalty to God. But there was also another strand, which portrayed God as the God of all nations, who wanted social justice and inclusion.
For Christians, Jesus is the icon of God, the one who shows us what God is like. In the New Testament, too, there are passages like our reading from Hebrews, which portray a terrifying God, who threatens humans who transgress his laws, and whose wrath needs to be satisfied by a perfect sacrifice: passages which inform the theology behind verse 2 of our offertory hymn, a theology in which I don’t believe. But Luke’s stories tell us about a God who wants to heal people and include the outcast, the God of grace, the God that Jesus reveals to us; and that the proper response to that revelation is to praise God and rejoice (as the people in the synagogue did) not carp and condemn (as the leader of the synagogue did).
But this insight is one the Christian community has had to learn again and again, especially as the Church turned from a movement into an institution. Institutions tend to be much more comfortable serving a God of law, with clear rules defining what and who is acceptable, and what is not. Some rules are necessary for community life; but the tendency is to go beyond what is necessary and try to keep the community pure and obedient by fear of breaking ever more complicated rules, a process which tends to exclude people, rather than include them, and oppress them rather than liberate. Though St Paul argued that we are justified by our faith, not by our works, by the grace of God, not by keeping the Law; and the writer of the letter to the Colossians argued against teachings that said the observance of the Sabbath, festivals and food laws were as important as loving all members of the community, the restrictive rules crept back into the life of the Christian community. To counter what it regarded as heresy, the church drew up creeds, and demanded adherence to them as a condition of membership, persecuting those who could not accept these word pictures of God. Even the multitude of laws about what could be done on the Sabbath (now Sunday rather than Saturday) came back, so that it became a time of oppression not liberation. The Puritans forbade music, dance, sport, anything that might make the Sabbath a day of joy. The gloomy Victorian Sunday was maintained with the same hypocrisy seen in our Gospel reading, resulting in situation where rich people could avoid work on the Sabbath day, but the poor could not.
One result of this trend is that, while Jesus is seen as an attractive figure by many, a true icon of the God of grace and compassion, Christianity itself is rejected as reflecting only a God who excludes and punishes. Gandhi said, “I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ!”
Many people, including those from inside different Christian denominations, have admitted to sharing this anxiety that the institutional church doesn’t reflect the God of Grace that Jesus came to show us. That has serious implications for our mission, and our attempts to commend our faith to an increasingly indifferent and unbelieving society, because our practice will inevitably reflect our picture of the God we serve.
So the Gospel today face us with a challenge, not just about how we mark the Sabbath, but also how we picture God and how that picture influences the way we serve God in the Church and the world.
What sort of God do we worship and praise today?
What sort of God did Jesus show us?
A God of rules or a God of love?
One who keeps some of his sons and daughters bent over and burdened, or one who wants them all to stand up straight and hold their heads high?
A God of law or a God of grace?