Luke recounts the healing of a crippled woman (13.10–17). It was a Sabbath day, and Jesus was in a synagogue, teaching the people about the word of God. Among the audience was a woman who had been possessed by a spirit for eighteen years, causing her to be bent over double and unable to stand upright, as the evangelist describes.
The woman had not sought healing because she had been attending the synagogue for eighteen years, listening to the word of God and offering her suffering and prayers. Many years before Jesus had begun preaching the kingdom of the Father, she had been coming to the synagogue. She did not approach the Lord for healing grace. Considering the limited understanding of the time, she was likely perceived as justly suffering for some obscure sin she had committed. Consequently, she was barely allowed to enter the synagogue and was pushed into a dark corner, hidden from view.
The Lord sees her. Jesus is attentive. He looks for and finds all those who need healing, mercy, and love. The eyes of Jesus are filled with light, and St. Gregory of Narek describes beautifully that light, piercing through its divine power: “You rejoice in my salvation, oh blessed beatitude, as if overcome by a pleasant and authentic full yearning!” (Prayer 3.1). This is the Light that we celebrate every morning in our Church’s morning prayers and bask under its care and guidance throughout the day. As we gather in the evening to offer our spiritual sacrifices, we express our gratitude to this Light. If we faithfully follow the invitation of the Order of Common Prayers of the Armenian Church, we can truly experience the joy and fulfillment that this Light brings.
The Lord called the crippled woman to approach him from the far corner of the synagogue. He was seated in the place of honor to teach, and everyone’s eyes were fixed on him. He placed his hand on the woman, and she was healed. He freed her from her illness by casting out the spirit that had been crippling her. Luke records that the woman immediately began to praise God.
The president of the synagogue, visibly indignant, reminded the congregation of the commandments of the God of Israel, the covenant-giver, emphasizing that work was permitted on six days of the week, not on the Sabbath. He emphasized the holiness and exclusivity of the Sabbath, reserved for God. A heated discussion ensued, as the light of Jesus’s eyes pierced through the hypocrisy of those who contradicted him. He challenged them, asking if anyone could deny their duty to untie their ox or donkey from the manger on the Sabbath and take them out for watering. He then turned their attention to the woman, a member of God’s family—a daughter of Abraham—and questioned their ability to refuse love and mercy.
It’s truly moving to witness Jesus’s expression of pointing to the woman and calling her “a daughter of Abraham.” This gesture was an urgent attempt to evoke some sense of mercy and empathy in the harsh critics.
In this same vein of thought, what truly do we believe when we pray the “Our Father”? Does it ever cross our minds, as we observe our neighbors, the disabled, the sinners, those burdened by numerous mistakes and wrongdoings, and find in them the inherent dignity of being children of the same Heavenly Father? Do we allow this shared kinship to foster empathy and compassion towards those in need? Does the noble lineage of these individuals inspire us to care for them rather than condemn them?
