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 MTS SINAI AND ZION - Here’s an excellent brief overview of
what we are in Luke’s story:
The approaching passion in Jerusalem casts its
shadow over this material. This brief section opens with a controversy in a synagogue,
Luke’s last reference to Jesus teaching in a synagogue. It closes with a reappearance
of Herod Antipas, his perplexed curiosity about Jesus (9:7-9) having soured into thoughts
of executing him. Midway in this section Luke says, "He went on his way through towns
and villages, teaching, and journeying toward Jerusalem" (verse 22). As stated
earlier, geographical references are either so irregular or so lacking altogether that
attempts to reconstruct the journey should be abandoned. The journey is theological and
pedagogical in its arrangement; the disciples are being prepared for Jerusalem and for
events beyond Jerusalem. So is the reader; especially the reader. [1]
This is a troubling passage-because it caricatures what all too often
happens in worship places. Though muted and less obvious, still the scenario of worship
order vis-à-vis unmet needs haunt us. Wonder how often this needy woman had come and left
worship without even a nod in her direction, without any compassion or at the very least,
without any empathy or concern being shown her. Such qualities of concern are not
anachronistic at all-Hebrew people knew well God’s hesed toward the weak and
infirm.
 Just this week a prayer service began with these words . . "Missed
opportunities for compassion happen all the time . . . how can we become servants to each
other in our times of need?"
Can you think of opportunities for compassion for this week? Sometimes, people become
hard of hearing to the mundane and common occurrences that happen all around them. What
opportunities do you see and hear?
 Recently I sat
amongst a "Bagels and Bible" class. Ironically, they were studying a topic
called "The Blessing," by Gary Smalley. The agenda, "envisioning a great
future," was set, and so we walked through our topic with great cadence. Then from
out of nowhere we heard, "I’m such a bother. I’m just a burden to
everyone." Nell our oldest and feeblest member had spoken. Since we were supposed to
be envisioning a great future, I chided her a bit.
"Nell," I said, "don’t listen to those words about being a bother;
you’re not a bother! God loves you, try to envision a future that places you as a
valuable person, a loving and caring person in it."
Ninety-four year old Nell hesitated, "Should I tell you?" she half conversed
with herself. For several long seconds she debated internally what to do. She finally
decided that she would break her silence.
The story she told us was shocking-that week she had been abused and virtually
terrorized by a someone going door to door with a bogus environmental cause. The poor lady
hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten for several days afterward. Fear had left her without
energy. And she had come to our class that morning deeply wounded.
Missed opportunities for compassion happen all the time . . .
Nell was the woman bent over and tormented by Satan for lo these many years, and we
almost missed the chance of a lifetime to show compassion-because we had an agenda to
stick to.
The leader was heads up enough to stop the topic and tend to Nell; the members
encircled her with their compassion and love and a huge dose of excellent advice!
"What opportunities for compassion around you have you missed this week?" the
text seems to ask us.
A homily on this passage might simply raise such a question of the passage by retelling
the story and then freezing the characters and the stage enough to ask that question.
Can you come up with your own stories-personal or borrowed-that raise such a question?
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[1] Interpretation Series: Luke (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1990), page 169.
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