"Who Me?" given August 21

Fifteen or so years ago, I found myself putting off a task that ultimately was to become crucial to me. In order to jump through the first hoop, I needed to call a colleague of mine in order to ask him to do a fairly big favor for me.  He and his wife, and Donna and I all attended the same college, but weren’t in the same class. So at that point we’d only known each other for about ten years. I can’t say we were the best of pals, but we had a cordial semi-friendship.  But I really needed this favor, and although I have closer friends who I would normally have felt more comfortable asking for a favor, this man was better qualified. He was the best possible choice to do this job.

I could have dropped him a note, or written an e-mail, or called.  I could have even gotten into the car and driven over to see him.  But I didn’t. I hemmed and hawed and stalled and put it off, day after day, until time began to press and I finally made the call.

Of course, I got his answering machine—you always do when it’s really important. That’s a cosmic law of the universe.

            In any case, I sort of stumbled through the message I left on his answering machine, apologizing for asking, and saying I was sorry not to give him any advance notice, and that I knew how busy he was, and emphasizing that I understood perfectly if he felt it was necessary to say no. Being a good guy, he was glad to help me out—frankly, somewhat to my surprise. And as a result, we ended better friends than we’d been before. So the story had a happy ending. 

            But then I asked myself.  Why was I so hesitant to call? It was something more than my customary procrastination. There was something else going on inside my head that kept me putting off this task that was more than simple laziness. Otherwise, why was I surprised that he so readily agreed? 

            Of course, it’s always awkward the first time you ask someone for a big favor.  There’s the fear that they will say no and then you have to come up with someone else to ask.  And in the process of explaining your request you may have to reveal a bit of your personal life to someone else.  And then, there’s the fear that in the end you won’t be able to find anyone to do this favor for you and you’ll find yourself up the creek without a paddle. 

Why was I so hesitant to call and ask for a favor? A little bit of all those things was going on, surely. But there was also an issue of pride and self-worth. This is busy guy with lots of irons in the fire. He won’t have time for me. Would he think me worth his time and effort?

Besides, I shouldn’t have had to ask. I should be more self-sufficient. He’ll probably think that I shouldn’t have gotten myself into this “fine mess” in the first place. You can’t always rely on other people. You should be able to meet all of your own needs without help. That’s, that old American self-sufficiency hang-up that makes us hesitant to admit that we need anyone to help us do anything. 

I mean, John Wayne never had to ask nobody for no favors, did he pilgrim? If John Wayne couldn’t do something, or order someone else to do it, or just punch someone,  it didn’t need to get done. Ask? The Duke never asked or apologized for anything—it’s “a sign a’ weakness”, as he said in McClintock . . He always played a character who didn’t know how to say “I’m sorry” or “please”, and sure as shootin’ never learned how to say “thank you.”—much less—“help me”.”

.Even if our bodies are whole and strong, our spirits and our lives can be crippled and bent by that sort of misplaced pride. Or we might end up trapped by resentment, or guilt, or rage, or addiction, or self-pity. And when that happens, you and I can all too easily find ourselves blocked from appreciating the gift of life we’ve been given by God-- much less enjoying it. 

And even more, a bent and withered spirit will almost bend us double, keeping us from fulfilling God’s purpose for our life. God says to us—go, come, follow me, love me, feed my sheep—but this spirit of resentment, or fear, or unworthiness or whatever it is says “Who, Me?” and traps us, twisting and bending us over in self inflicted misery.

In this morning’s Gospel Reading, Jesus sees a woman who had been struggling with a spiritual problem for 18 years. She’s been so trapped, so bowed down with the weight of this intolerable burden she’s been trying to carry that it has literally bent her spine-- as surely as it had bent her spirit. 

This unfortunate woman isn’t even named. Single women without families were on the fringes of that society in any case. And she had existed on the fringes of the fringes so long she’d lost her identity. She was no longer a Hildinger or a Agram. She was no longer an Axen or a Baron. She was just “that stooped-over lady”.

This unnamed woman didn’t ask to be healed. She just happened to be at the synagogue where Jesus was teaching that day. She may well not even have known who Jesus was.  Even if she’d known though, it’s likely that she wouldn’t have had the inner resources to approach him—or even touch the hem of his garment

But Jesus saw her, and called her to him.

“Who, me?” she probably responded.

Being from a town pretty much like the one He was in, Jesus was well aware of  the kind of life on the fringes she had been forced to lead. He probably recognized the physical and emotional suffering that had twisted her spirit as well as her back.   He probably knew about her anonymity as well. And all of those things were Jesus what cared about—not that it happened to be the day of Sabbath. And so, Sabbath or not, he laid hands upon her and she was healed.

But Jesus wasn’t through yet. When the President of the Synagogue tried to call Jesus on what he saw as a violation of the laws of Moses, Jesus responded by comparing the mercy they would show to a dumb animal to their insensitivity  to a fellow human being. She was not  “whatzername with the broken back”, or that “crippled lady” or even “that poor old woman” anymore. She was and always had been, Jesus reminded them (and reminded her),  “a daughter of Abraham and Sarah”. 

Fifteen hundred years earlier, the Prophet Jeremiah was being kept from fulfilling the purpose of his life. In his case it was a spirit of unworthiness. God had said, “Go, Prophesy!”.  But Jeremiah hemmed and hawed. He weaseled and made an excuse.  “I am only a boy,” he said. Scripture doesn’t say if he was eight-- or eighteen. But he probably was a young adult—because nobody listened to a rabbi who wasn’t yet married with some white in his beard—much less a prophet.  The real point is, Jeremiah didn’t want to do it.  After all, who in their right mind ever wants to be a prophet?

and God said go

          and I said who me?

          and God said yes you

          and I said

          but I’m not ready yet

          and an important meeting is coming up

          and I can’t leave my work right now

          and you know there’s no one to take my place

          and God said you’re stalling.

         

          again God said go

          and I said I don’t want to

          and God said I didn’t ask you if you wanted to

          and I said

listen, i’ m not the kind of person to get involved in controversy

          and besides my family won’t like it

          and what will the neighbors think

          and God said baloney

          and yet a third time God said go

          and I said do I have to?

          and God said do you love me?

          and I said I’m scared

          people are going to hate me

          and cut me into little pieces

          and I can’t take it all by myself

          and God said where do you think I’ll be?

          and I said here I am! send me!

                                                                             -Virginia Theological Seminary

Both Jeremiah and that anonymous woman in the synagogue found themselves touched and healed and freed from the struggles that had trapped and held them back. Both were freed to fulfill God’s purpose for them.  Lot’s of things can trap and twist and bend us over.

Sometimes a spirit of unworthiness pulls us down. We say with Jeremiah, “Who me? “I’m just a kid, who’s going to listen to me?”  But Jeremiah went on to be one of the great prophets of Israel” Sometimes it is our physical limitations that hold us back. Paul complained of an un-named thorn in his flesh. He prayed, “Take away my infirmity, Lord so that I can proclaim your Word.” But Jesus replied, “My grace is  sufficient—it is all that you really need, Paul.”

Sometimes it is the spirit of fear that holds us back.  We say, “If only I could..” We don’t want to fail or look like a fool. Or perhaps it is the spirit of prejudice or of pride or of some other issue that cripples us and holds us back. “Oh I don’t want to have anything to do with those people.”

Whatever it is, Jesus can heal our spirits, and empower us, and give us new life. The only questions is, will you and I accept the healing and empowerment Jesus offers? God gave Jeremiah exactly what he needed—even though Jeremiah didn’t know what exactly it was that he needed, much less how to ask for it. 

. God in Jesus gave the woman in the synagogue precisely what she needed. “Who me? I’m a nobody. I’m a nonentity” But Jesus healed her and Luke tells us that “…immediately she stood up straight and began praising God.”

“Who, me?  I’m not that good a friend to him. Besides I’m not totally sure that he’ll figure doing me a favor is worth his trouble and time.  He’s probably got better things to do than to help me out.”   But he agreed to do it.

“Who, me? I could never be a lay speaker. Who’d want to listen to me preach?” “Who, me? Sing in the choir? I can’t read music. My voice isn’t good enough.” “Who, me?, teach Sunday School? I’m no good with kids.”  “Who, me? Go back to school and get that degree? It’s been too long. I’m not that smart.” “Who, me? Take a church office? I wouldn’t be good at that sort of thing?”  But you could.

 “Who, me? Become a Big Brother or Big Sister? Who, me? Volunteer at a hospital or nursing home or the pantry? Who me? Do adult literacy tutoring? Who, me? Become a Foster Parent? Who, me? Follow my conscience rather than my party alignment when I vote? Who, me? Tithe? Who me? Stay sober? I couldn’t do it. “ But you can.

“Who me? Step away from my fears and hesitations and self-consciousness and guilt and sense of unworthiness. Who  me? Stop blaming and scape-goating and excuse-making and nit-picking and self-aggrandizing sinful behavior? Who me? Straighten up and acknowledge my call, my true identify as a child of God? I can’t.” But you can.

I read of a woman who was bent over and crippled by a life of poverty and abuse. “Alice” was not physically impaired, but the sexual abuse she had experienced as a child and the stigma of growing up poor in a small rural community had turned her into a hesitant, self-doubting, fearful person.

Though she had intelligence, she had never pursued an education. She had married the first man to show any interest in her, a man who turned out to be an alcoholic. She was self-conscious and anxious around people who seemed to have superior intelligence and abilities (though that was often not the case). Her life was warped and constricted as severely as that of the bent-over woman whom Jesus healed in the synagogue.

Alice had a child when she was almost 40 years of age, and remembering that a Methodist church had been a brief haven for her in her childhood, she brought her little girl to the local United Methodist church for baptism. As she stuck around, Alice became a part of the community and allowed her latent faith to flourish, Alice began to stand tall.

She got a driver’s license – something she assumed she’d never be able to attain. She began going to a pastoral counselor, feeling for the first time that her problems were worthy of attention. She began working in Christian education and discovered many gifts for working with young children.

Eventually, Alice came to see that her calling from God was to reach out to poor children – the sort who are rarely brought to church-- the children who may not receive the welcome all children deserve. She became a strong leader, recruiting other adults in her church to serve in this ministry, and teaching them how to serve these needy kids.

Her pastor wrote: “As surely as Jesus helped the woman in the synagogue, so he helped Alice to stand up straight.”

Jesus can do the same for you and for me. Who me? Who us? He’s in this synagogue right now, teaching.  He’s calling you and me to stand up and follow. It’s the Sabbath, but Jesus knows where we are hurting-- he knows what we need in our lives. His Spirit can free us, and straighten us up. His Love can make us whole. His grace is sufficient for us.

Who, us? Respond to our Lord’s invitation and step into a new stage of life—trusting that whatever comes, Jesus Christ will offer healing and hope and possibility and grace sufficient to face it? Who, me? Allow God to lead me into becoming a real, live, responsible, grown-up, praying and ministering and listening disciple? Who, me? Yes. You. Who, me? Yes. Me.