August 24, 2025
11th Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 16, Year C – Mark Winward
When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, “Woman, you are set free from your infirmity.” Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God. – Luke 13:12–13 (NRSV)
Last week I said that if a Lectionary selection is confusing, difficult to understand, or hard to believe, that’s exactly what the preacher should be focusing on. This is one of those Sundays. And because today’s Gospel account is particularly difficult for us to swallow as 21st century Christians, I think it can get in the way of the real message behind the story. This morning, I want to suggest that there are three different levels we can view this Gospel account of Jesus healing the disabled woman.
First, this story addresses the reality of spiritual burdens. Particularly in the West, we tend not to consider the possibility that some conditions are not just physical but also carry a spiritual dimension. We treat sickness as merely sickness, and violence in people as merely violence. Yet I think most of us can recall individuals who are so weighed down spiritually—perhaps because of abuse or poor self-image—that their physical demeanor reflects that heaviness. The daily burdens we carry can snowball over the years into spiritual outcomes that sometimes express themselves physically.
Still, to focus only on spiritual burdens sidesteps most troublesome aspect of this passage. Given the rest of Luke’s Gospel, the “spirit” that crippled the woman struggled with might more plainly be interpreted as a demonic spirit. For many Westerners, the very idea of demons conjures up cheesy movie images of heads spinning around and victims speaking in strange voices. C. S. Lewis addressed this in The Screwtape Letters: “There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe and feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.” Christians often fall into this very trap—either an absolute denial of evil, or a paranoid tendency to see a demon under every bush.
For those of you veterans who have experienced combat, I hardly need to remind you of the reality of Evil (with a capital E). Before I went to Iraq, another chaplain warned me that you couldn’t only see but also feel the spiritual oppression in that war-torn land. I didn’t believe him—until I witnessed things I prefer not to describe, sights that I can only describe as demonic. Now, I realize this kind of talk makes people squirm, but it always amazes me how easily American Christians dismiss the demonic. Consider this: most Americans believe in angels, usually influenced by biblical descriptions. Strangely enough, there are even people who deny the existence of God but still believe in angels! So I ask: “If angels exist, do you believe they are at least as intelligent as we are?” Most people would have to respond “yes.” If so, do they have free will—the ability to make independent choices? Again, most would agree. And if angels can make independent choices, is it possible that some might have chosen to turn against God? Hmm…. Scripture tells us that Satan and his demons began as angels who rebelled against God, and for a limited time have sought to corrupt and destroy God’s creation.
Of course, rather than denying the existence of the demonic, we also have to avoid the opposite extreme. Contrary to many pop-preachers, the Bible doesn’t teach demons are lurking behind every misfortune. It speaks of them in terms of “legions” or “thousands,” not billions. Still, a few powerful beings can certainly raise a lot of hell (pardon the pun)! More importantly, the Prince of Darkness is unlikely to make a cameo appearance in your life—unless you are of extreme strategic importance (which most of us are not). Only one being in this universe is capable of being in more than one place at one time, and that is God. The cartoon image of an angel on one shoulder and the Devil on the other is simply not a Christian concept. Sure, the Bible talks about being attacked by the Devil – but in the same way we might say an army is attacked by Hitler or Putin, even though they themselves are not physically present on the battlefield.
The truth is: the darkness of our own souls is more than enough to bring about most of the trials and temptations we face. When we give in to that darkness, we contribute to Satan’s ultimate objective: to corrupt and destroy God’s creation. Yet the end has already been determined. The good news is that Satan can never triumph over God; and, according to today’s story, he need not triumph in your life either. Whether we interpret the woman as weighed down by years of a spiritual burden or as the victim of demonic activity, the point remains the same: Jesus set her free. And the implication is that he can do the same spiritually for you and for me!
But this story isn’t only about spiritual healing; it’s also about physical healing – and that’s equally difficult for us to accept today. Yet most religions—and even modern science—acknowledge there’s more to this world than meets the eye. For Christians, the central affirmation of faith we affirm every Sunday is this: Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. If I’ve chosen to believe in a universe where dead men don’t necessarily stay dead, it’s hardly much of a leap of faith to believe a spinal misalignment might be miraculously corrected. If you spend as much time in hospital ministry as I have, it’s difficult to dismiss the possibility that God does heal. Sometimes he uses medicine; other times, the healing has no apparent explanation. Why some are healed and others are not is a mystery we’ll not solve this side of heaven. That’s why I continue to pray for people’s physical healing—not as some magical incantation but as an act of aligning our will with God’s will, placing ourselves and others in the loving hands of God.
That attitude of trust and openness is, I believe, at the very heart of this story. The dramatic exorcism or miraculous healing may be the most spectacular or unbelievable part of this story, but I don’t think it’s Luke’s point. Rather, he uses the woman’s healing as a foil to highlight the attitudes of those around her. The woman came to synagogue with her burden, approached Jesus with her need, and left praising God. The senior rabbi, however, responded not with praise but with criticism—rebuking Jesus for healing on the Sabbath. In modern terms, that’s as petty as someone stopping to save the life of a roadside accident victim, only to be given a ticket for double parking! Anyone making such a charge would be missing the point entirely – and so was this local rabbi.
God was working right there in their midst, but Jesus’ opponents were so determined to tear him down that they missed the point. God had given this extraordinary individual, Jesus of Nazareth, the power to heal in mind, body, and spirit – and the implications of this were beyond their imaginations. Rather than marveling at God’s power at work, they got hung up on ritual. Now that can be a danger even today – particularly for liturgical traditions like ours. Of course, we should take our worship seriously, offering God our very best. But when form overshadows substance, like the Pharisees we miss the point. This story serves as a warning for us to practice modicum of humility, to remember that the point is to celebrate God’s grace, not our ritual.
And that, I think, is Luke’s point. We can get so easily distracted in the details that we miss what God is really doing. First, like the woman who might not have sought Jesus out, we can become so focused on our problems that we fail to turn to God at all. Second, we can get so caught up in the demonic elements of the story that we miss what God is doing. Finally, we can become so rigid in our rules that we fail to recognize God’s work when it comes in an unexpected form.
Ultimately, this story isn’t about suffering, or evil, or ritual. It’s about God’s work in the world. And when you live your life not by looking for a demon under every bush, but by looking for God’s hand at work in your life, it’s nothing short of transformative! And instead of looking down burdened by despair, you begin to look up in hope—and life takes on a whole new perspective! Amen.
Live
August 17, 2025
10th Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 15 Year C – Mark Winward
Jesus said, Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division… [families] will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law” – Luke 12:51, 53 NRSV
Today’s Gospel presents some of Jesus’ harshest words—verses that might not be most preachers’ first choice. It has always frustrated me that when a reading contains something difficult to hear, hard to believe, or seemingly incomprehensible—and the preacher dodges it. But that’s exactly what the preacher should be addressing. So it is in that place we find ourselves with today’s Gospel reading.
If we were to list ten of the hardest sayings in the Gospels, today’s passage would undoubtedly make the list. Jesus’ declaration that He came to bring fire, a distressing baptism, and division—even within families—are hardly comforting words. Quite frankly, we’d rather imagine Jesus as a peacemaker than as a home breaker. And it hardly helps to dismiss these sayings as “not authentic to Jesus.” They remain in the Bible—Scripture that the Church, through the ages, felt led to include in the canon.
My hermeneutic—that is, my approach to interpreting Scripture—is to ask: What does the text say? What did it mean? And what does it mean to me? It’s been said that “a text without a context is a pretext.” Be wary of any preacher who quotes multiple verses without considering their surrounding context.
August 10, 2025
9th Sunday after Pentecost – Mark Winward
Audacious Faith
At first glance, today’s readings may seem unrelated. But look closer, and a thread begins to emerge—one that ties Isaiah, Hebrews, and Luke together. Woven through each passage is an audacious faith: a bold, risk-taking trust in God we are called to live out.
In Isaiah (1:1, 10–20), the young prophet is blunt with God’s people. Their outward good works, he says, are meaningless without an inner change of heart. Offerings without repentance are empty. Prayers without transformation go unheard. Instead, Isaiah calls them to something deeper: “Learn to do good; seek justice; rescue the oppressed” (v.17). True worship is not just ritual—it’s the transformation of both heart and action.
Hebrews (11:1–3, 8–16) picks up this theme, focusing on Abraham’s faithfulness. This chapter is sometimes called the “roll call of the heroes of the faith.” But as my old professor Reggie Fuller would say, “The Bible knows no heroes… heroes are witnesses to their own achievements; whereas in Hebrews 11 the great figures of salvation history are brought forth, not for their heroism, but for their faith.” He defined faith as “taking a risk to trust God at God’s word when God makes promises about the future.”
The challenge is that Hebrews 11:1 is often misunderstood. The NRSV says, “Faith is the assurance (hypostasis) of things hoped for, the conviction (elegchos) of things not seen.” Yet those Greek words are never used that way anywhere else in the New Testament.