Being Seen: A Sermon for the 11th Sunday After Pentecost, Proper 16C

 

Homeless Jesus by Timothy Schmalz

What a week. Many conversations and messages that all seem to point back to the theme I was picking up from the readings: humans do matter and are important to God. And too many times, we don't acknowledge that truth to their faces. 

And in these political charged times, where we have Governors crusading against transgender people and attempting to limit access to books and instruction about the Holocaust and the ravages of the African slave trade... we need the church to step up to the plate and swing for the fences to let people know: God cares... even when your government doesn't. 

Texts: Jeremiah 1:4-10; Luke 13:10-17

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“Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, and before you were born, I consecrated you.”

This is such a well-known line of Scripture.

I would imagine that for many of us… to hear God speak such a deep and personal connection to Jeremiah might also resonate with us.

Despite the many misgivings I’ve heard Christians express about the Old Testament, this passage from Jeremiah reveals a God who isn’t some distant, uncaring, mean deity.

The God in conversation with the prophet is engaged with humanity.  

This is a God who validates our self-worth…”the voice of the Lord came to me.”  

Me. Little ol’ me.

Little ol’ You.

Little ol’ Us.

I don’t know how much more personal you can get than that!

Being seen. Being noticed. Getting attention.

Even for those who really don’t like to be in the spotlight or have people fussing over them, to be seen for who we are is so important.

To be ignored or forgotten is far worse and much more hurtful and damaging.

Scientific studies have confirmed the importance of human touch and interaction especially with babies.

Researchers noted that babies can tell when you’re imitating them anywhere from several hours after birth to when they’re only a few weeks old. When a baby sees us smile back at them, or match their inquisitive look, it helps with their emotional and cognitive development.

Being known and seen in this way gives them such joy and comfort and assurance that it actually helps them to sleep better and form their personalities.

Noticing and seeing has a profound effect on adults, too.

I attended a presentation in Virginia with a woman who had once spent several years living on the streets and going in and out of the homeless shelters of Washington, DC.

Her name is Tokyo. She struggled with an addiction to crack… and when she came out she didn’t have the support of her family.

Tokyo spoke about what it was like to be sitting on the concrete step of a building and looking up at all the people going by. Rarely would anyone make eye contact with her. She said that was one of the toughest parts of living on the streets: no one saw her. Many made a conscious effort to ignore her.

Between that and her family turning away from her, Tokyo had that sinking feeling that her life didn’t matter.

That lack of self-worth is something she still struggles with today.

Sometimes… the noise of the world around us can overwhelm that voice of God whispering, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.”

So as we look at our Gospel lesson this morning… the one with the unnamed woman bent over and in pain for eighteen years… and I think we can give her a name.

For now… let’s call her “Tokyo.”

A person easily ignored and unknown… maybe collecting scraps of  discarded food.  Tokyo is drifting along through the Gospel. There’s a spirit of addiction… of being cast out… of being told “You’re stupid. You’re not worthy,” that’s kept her doubled over.

She is so broken and in so much pain that she can’t look up at the stars.

She’s so folded over herself that even her physical presence makes her into a small ball that others easily ignore.

They can’t see the hurt and pain in Tokyo’s eyes because she’s looking at the ground.

One day… by chance… she wanders into the house of worship.

Perhaps she was looking for shelter.

Maybe something told her that this was a safe place where she could just be… without anyone hassling her.

Tokyo is so used to being ignored that she might have been in her own world and not even aware of her surroundings.

It must have been a shock to her that the man who was leading the Torah study on this Sabbath day stepped down from the bema… and called her to come him.

Tokyo wasn’t looking for anything.

She hadn’t asked for anything.

She had no idea who this Rabbi was and why he’d suddenly taken notice of her.

But something in her told her to trust and move toward this man.

“Woman you are set free from your ailment.”

This Rabbi…Jesus… put his hands on Tokyo’s beaten down and beleaguered self… and offered that human touch that can be so transformative to a body in pain and suffering.

Jesus’ hands… Jesus’ ability to see her… to notice her… to validate her worth is so powerful that Tokyo can stand tall for the first time in eighteen years.

Eighteen.

In Hebrew… eighteen is formed by the letters that spell “Chai” or “Life.”

(Fans of old Broadway musicals might recognize that from “Fiddler on the Roof”: the celebratory wedding toast of “To life, To life, l’chaim”?)

Tokyo’s life had been in bondage.

Her doubled-over body raising up into a straight… tall… proud… and strong woman is the visual representation of what freedom looks like. What being yourself… your true self… looks like.

In Jewish tradition… the most central prayer of their faith… called “The Shema” mentions the Holy name… the name of God… eighteen times.

That prayer connects Jews deeply into their relationship with God.

So it’s no accident that Luke wants us to know that Tokyo’s life had been in shackles for eighteen years.

Now thanks to those healing hands of Jesus…she has reconnected to the God that has known her from the very beginning of time and will stay with her no matter what else comes her way.

She has been liberated… to go forth in peace to love and serve others.

By the way… this is true of the Tokyo from DC as well.

She found a reconnection with Jesus…in the form of friends who saw her… and told her “Go home.”

Get right.

Get clean.

She entered a treatment center where she experienced support, and friendship from many, including Episcopal priests.

She not only completed college but has received a master’s degree.

Today, Tokyo helps run a day center in Northwest DC out of the basement of a Presbyterian Church, which serves as safer space for people without housing.

This is her way of praising God… by giving back… by noticing and seeing those who are living the street life she used to know.

Like the woman in the Gospel… she has become tall and free.

Like the prophet Jeremiah… she is known… truly known to her core by a God who has called her to put her knowledge of street life to use for helping others.

We’re all known in this deep way by God…and invited to embrace the liberation offered through Jesus.

“Almighty God to you all hearts are open… all desires are known… and from you no secrets are hid.”

Our task going out from this place is to be like Tokyo.

Give thanks for this gift of being seen… being known… being truly and completely loved by a God who knows all of who we are… the good parts and the failings… and says without hesitation, “Yes, child, you ARE worthy.”

God’s love… communicated to us through songs, scriptures, prayers… and receiving Christ at this table… is the gift that empowers us to pass that love along to someone else.

Sometimes… it’s as simple as making eye contact and smiling. Or taking the time to listen to their story.

We have no idea how important that might be to someone else who’s living a life doubled-over in pain and shame in the belief that they don’t matter.

In the name of God…F/S/HS.