Healing on the Sabbath—is this work or not?  In Genesis, we read that for six days God created, but on the seventh day, God rested.  In Exodus, we read how this rhythm is repeated as one of the ten commandments.  “Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy,” Exodus 20:8 says.  “Six days you shall labor and do all your work.  But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns.  For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested on the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it.”  (Exodus 20:9-11)

Clearly God has some serious expectations about the Sabbath!  It was this commandment, along with many more detailed rules found in the Old Testament, that the Pharisees had in mind when Jesus came to the synagogue, where we meet him in our gospel lesson today.  Healing was allowed six days a week, no question.  On the Sabbath, however, only certain kinds of aid could be given.  Life-saving first aid was allowed.  But medical treatment that could wait another day was supposed to wait.  So for example, a bad cut could be bandaged on the Sabbath.  That was life-saving, so the person didn’t bleed to death.  But ointment to ease pain or promote healing?  That was considered unnecessary work and had to wait.

For centuries, these rules had been working out just fine—at least, they were working fine as long as you are not the one needing healing!  But what if you were the person in pain?  What if it was your life that was being affected by an injury or illness?  It seems that in Jesus’ day, some religious leaders had made adherence to the letter of the law so important, it was as if the law was more important than people.

But Jesus wanted to change that.  From the earliest days of his ministry Jesus was developing a reputation for being a healer.  He was also busy establishing himself as challenger of the status quo.  Already in Mark we have seen Jesus touch a leper, make friends with a tax collector, and encourage his disciples to pluck grains of wheat on the Sabbath.  All of these actions were taboo in the eyes of the religious establishment.

Mark goes on to tell us about another time Jesus did something controversial.  Jesus went to the synagogue on the Sabbath, which is what all Jewish men were expected to do.  But for Jesus to go to the synagogue was pretty daring, given how much he had already done to anger the religious elite.  He didn’t just sneak in and take a seat in the back row.  Apparently he went right up to the front, knowing everyone was watching him.  You know who else sat up in the front?  In our worship services, if it weren’t for our musicians, no one would sit up front!  But in the synagogue, the front row was THE place to sit.  It was occupied by members of the Sanhedrin, the ruling elders of the religious community.  Right in front of the big men on campus, Jesus calls the man with the shriveled hand to stand up in front of everyone.

We can imagine the tension in the room.  By now it wasn’t just the ruling elders who were watching. Everyone was watching to see if Jesus would break the Jewish rules that say is it unlawful to heal on the Sabbath.  Remember, if the man’s life were in danger, yes, some aid could be given.  Help could be given to make sure injuries didn’t get worse.  But it was against the law to offer help that could medically wait for another day.  So technically, healing this man with the shriveled hand on the Sabbath did not qualify as lawful.  Still, wouldn’t it be lifesaving to give this man the use of his hand back?  Even if the man’s injured hand was not life threatening in a medical way, it was certainly killing his chances of having a productive, happy life in every other way.  In a world with no modern conveniences, two fully functioning hands would have been crucial to earning a living and taking care of himself.  Healing him would be life-saving in a fuller sense of the word, and giving us fullness of life is one of the reasons Jesus came to earth!

Jesus knew the ruling elders were looking for a reason to accuse him, but he also wants to demonstrate this fullness of life.  So he asks, “Which is lawful on the Sabbath:  to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?”  This puts them on the spot because of course it is lawful to do good on the Sabbath!  The members of the Sanhedrin knew full well that it was indeed lawful to save a life on the Sabbath, but they were stuck in their traditional, rigid, literal understanding of what it means to save a life, and didn’t want to change. So they refused to answer Jesus because they didn’t want to open their hearts and minds to a more compassionate understanding of who God is.

Mark tells us that Jesus was deeply distressed at their hardness of heart.  But we can have compassion for the members of the Sanhedrin, because we know how it feels, when things are changing all around us, but we don’t really want them to change.  As we read through Mark, we will see the hostilities toward Jesus increase, because although he wasn’t having a lot of success getting huge numbers of Jewish people to recognize him as the Messiah, some people were.  And many others were following him, listening to his teaching, curious about this miracle working man from Nazareth.  Jesus was changing things, and this made the religious elite very nervous because they didn’t want change.  We can relate to that!  What Jesus calls “hardness of heart” we call resistance.  It’s our natural human reaction to change happening around us.

Even if change is our idea, it is very stressful!  I remember my first day of seminary.  It was also our son’s first day of first grade, and I was nervous for us both.  As a result, it took me longer to get out the door than anticipated.  Then of course, traffic was worse than I planned for, and by the time I got to campus, the student parking lot was almost completely full.  I finally found a space, got my bookbag, and ran as fast as I could to my first class.  I was just inside the building when I saw the professor step out into the hall so he could close the door and get class started.

I was almost in tears because I didn’t want to be late, I was worried about our son, I was questioning the wisdom of starting seminary, you know how things can snowball.  But then something really surprising happened.  As I ran down the hall toward my classroom, the professor said, “Good morning, Dorry!  Welcome!  I’m so glad you are here.”  The thing is, I never met this professor before.  I had no reason to expect to be called by name and receive such a warm welcome.  A few minutes later, the professor explained as he called roll that he went to the security office after our summer orientation had ended, and reviewed the photos we had taken for our student ID cards.  He wanted to know each person’s name before the first day of class, and had been praying for us all week.

It was on that day that I began to realize, one of the strategies we have for navigating change is WARMTH.  Extending a warm welcome.  Offering a kind word or caring gesture.  Taking a step toward connection.  It’s wonderful to be on the receiving end of that kind of warmth.  But if others can’t offer it to us, we can cultivate warmth ourselves!  We can offer to ourselves the love Jesus offered in that room where so many were upset and fearful because change was happening all around them.

Change is hard!  I think Jesus knew the changes he was hoping people in the religious establishment would make would be hard.  What he wouldn’t have given to have them exchange judgment for curiosity, their hard hearts for open ones.  “Stretch out your hand”, he said.  And with that, not only was a hand healed, but the man’s life was saved.  He was saved from being dependent on others to once again being able to use both hands to earn his living and care for himself and his family.  “Stretch out your hand,” he said, hoping that the shriveled-turned-whole hand would be a metaphor that inspired those with shriveled hearts to open them up more fully to the work of God in their midst.

On my first day of seminary, I was so moved by what my professor had done to bring warmth to a stressful time, I wrote him a thank you note.  But I was afraid to sign my name, because I didn’t want to seem like a suck up.  I know he received the note, though, because he told the whole class he appreciated it, but he was bewildered he didn’t know who had sent it.  It was on that day I resolved to never send an unsigned noted again.  And, reflecting on that day, I resolved that if I were ever to receive an unsigned note, I will be sure to acknowledge it, because my guess is, anyone who sends an unsigned note is dealing with some big changes and stressful events in their life.

The whole time I’ve been in ministry, I never received an unsigned note until two weeks ago.  Someone put a typed letter in the Joash box with the offering, saying they are upset that we are not singing enough traditional hymns in worship.  They didn’t sign the note, so I have no way of following up with them personally to hear more and respond pastorally to the issues they raised.  But what I can do is to acknowledge the note, and to hopefully offer a warm response, and let you know, whoever you are, your concerns are important to me and to everyone here.

I imagine many of us have thought about writing an anonymous note at one time or another, and especially lately.  There have been many changes in the world over the last couple of years, mostly changes we have had no say in.  And there have been changes in church, choices we have made to adapt to our present realities.  Some people really miss the 9:45 service with the full praise band and the coffee!  Some people miss the more formal 11 am service with the traditional hymns.  Since September we’ve been offering a “blended” service instead.  It’s an adjustment for everyone—and adjusting to change is hard!  But we’ve got a model in Jesus, who, when surrounded by people who were struggling with change, chose to offer compassion.  He chose to offer warmth.  He didn’t lay low or quietly take a seat in the backrow, but instead, came right up front to offer a visible display of tenderness and caring!

It’s upsetting, when the institutions and traditions we love seem to be pulling away from us.  For years Phil and I have had a hybrid subscription to the newspaper, reading it online during the week and getting it in print on the weekends.  We used to love reading the real newspaper on Saturdays and Sundays!  But they can’t find enough people to deliver the papers anymore, and we almost never actually receive our copy of the newspaper.  I wish things could be how they once were.  But that’s not real life, is it?

This kind of thing is so common these days, there’s a new term to describe how we are feeling:  accumulated grief.  It’s not that someone has died, although that can be part of it.  We have sustained a lot of losses.  Losses of tradition and routine.  Losses in the areas of safety, well-being, expectations, and security.  Losses of loved ones, losses of beloved rhythms.  And perhaps a sense that even our church community no longer feels as familiar and comfortable as it once did.  All of these losses can become an accumulation of grief that can make us angry, and want to rigidly cling to the old to protect us from the difficulty that comes when we must adapt to the new.

But Jesus is Lord of the Sabbath, and offers another option when it comes to handling our accumulated grief, our anxieties about change, and our frustrations and our fears.  That option is warmth.  That example he set is compassion.  The model he gave is us no-doubt-about-it caring.  It’s always wonderful when there are other people around us who can offer that kind of care to us.  But if not, we can offer it to ourselves, because Jesus is with us right now, offering God’s love to us as sure as he offers it to the whole world.  He’s calling us to stretch out our withered spirits.  Asking us to stretch out the places of our souls that feel dehydrated, wrinkled, and weary.  Bidding us to open our hearts to his healing love, so that we can walk this ever-changing life with poise, balance and grace.  What Jesus didn’t give to offer this to all of us!  May this Sabbath day be a day of healing for us all.  Amen.