Sunday, August 25, 2013: Luke 13:10-17

I once read an article by a medical doctor who tried to identify the condition that kept the woman in Luke 13 crippled for 18 years. I don’t remember his methodology, and in retrospect it seems to me a dubious endeavor, but I was deeply interested in his conclusion: the woman suffered from an arthritic condition called spondyloarthritis. The most common version, ankylosing spondylitis, can leave the vertebrae of the spine and neck fused and bent. I remember this because I had just been diagnosed with that form of arthritis. After a year of sleepless nights and morning stiffness, after limping around campus and after visiting one specialist after another, I finally sat in front of a rheumatologist who could have been saying to me: “You are that woman.”

I had never before experienced such an intimate, literal connection with a biblical story. I saw myself in this woman; I could relate to her. And that meant I could relate to Jesus. I saw in her both the possibility of future lameness and the hope of healing. It was a sorrowful and hopeful discovery.

Fifteen years later, however, I realize a contrasting truth: I have very little connection with this woman. Because of advances in medical knowledge, I can exercise and slow the progression of the disease. Anti-inflammatory drugs allow me to do all the things I want to do. Health insurance gives me access to the best doctors and diagnostic techniques. At my last visit to the rheumatologist he asked me if there was anything I wanted to do that I can’t do anymore. “I don’t play tennis anymore,” I said, “but that has more to do with having a job and three kids than it does with arthritis.” I stood six feet tall 15 years ago; I stand six feet tall today. I have very little in common with this poor woman who was bent over and unable to stand up straight.