REFLECTION 24TH AUGUST 2025 “HEALING ON THE SABBATH”
By Rev Dr Fei Taule’ale’ausumai
Growing up in West Auckland, our Samoan neighbours were 7-Day Adventists, and of course we were Presbyterian. And my father would always get annoyed when the father next door would mow their lawns on a Sunday morning. And I’m pretty sure that they would get annoyed with my dad when he would mow our lawns on a Saturday morning. Both families trying to honour the Sabbath, but inadvertently creating misery for the other.
This little scene from my childhood is actually a powerful illustration of how sincerely held faith practices can bump awkwardly against each other in everyday life.
My father and the Samoan father next door were both trying to “keep the Sabbath holy,” yet the way each tradition marked it ended up sounding like a lawnmower war across the fence. The Adventists held Saturday sacred, the Presbyterians Sunday—and instead of quiet, holy rest, each family probably felt a touch of irritation or even judgment from the other.
It’s almost comic in hindsight—two families faithfully honouring God, yet accidentally disturbing each other’s Sabbath peace. But it’s also deeply human. It reminds us that faith is not just about doctrines or calendars; it’s about how our lives rub up against those of our neighbours. Sometimes, in trying to serve God, we create unintended friction with others doing the same.
Today we meet a woman in Luke’s Gospel who has carried a burden for eighteen long years. She was bent over, unable to stand up straight. Imagine that for a moment — eighteen years looking at the ground, eighteen years unable to look someone in the eye, eighteen years of pain, of limitation, of being overlooked.
And yet — Jesus sees her. He notices her. He calls her forward. He lays his hands on her, and immediately she straightens up and begins to praise God.
But not everyone rejoices. The synagogue leader scolds him: “There are six days for work — come back then, but not today.” And Jesus replies: “You untie your donkey on the Sabbath so it can get water. Shouldn’t this daughter of Abraham be untied from her burden on this very day?”
Now, Sabbath has always carried tension. For some, it is a holy line that must never be crossed. You may remember Sir Michael Jones, the great All Black. He was one of the finest number sevens the game has ever seen. But he refused to play on Sundays. He missed out on matches, even World Cup games, because for him the Sabbath was a day for God alone. That was his witness — his choice. And people still remember him for it.
And yet… we also know that life is complicated. We know that not everyone can take Sunday off. Imagine if our hospitals closed. Imagine if public transport stopped. Imagine if caregivers didn’t turn up. Life would grind to a halt. Some people don’t get the luxury of Sabbath as a day of complete rest.
It takes me to another story — a personal one. When many of us were growing up, we probably had ideas about what we wanted to do. Maybe some of us dreamed of university. Maybe we thought about a profession, a career. But for my parents, who came from Samoa, it was different.
My dad was a labourer. He didn’t get to choose the “best” job. He simply looked for work to provide for the family. He found a job at Crum Brick and Tile, working as a potter. And you know what? For me, it was one of the best jobs in the world.
He would bring home big clumps of clay. Bags of it. We kids would play with it, I’d take some to school. It was wonderful. Dad would have stayed there until retirement if the brickworks hadn’t closed down.
And here’s the thing about my dad: his work ethic was simple. Once you got a job, you stuck with it. You were loyal. You worked hard. You provided for your family. That was enough and no one worked in the weekends so he was able to rest on the Sabbath.
And it wasn’t just him. All our whāngai brothers who went to work alongside him did the same. They stayed until the factory closed. And when Dad moved on, they followed him. It wasn’t about climbing the corporate ladder. It wasn’t about chasing the best pay. It was about contentment. It was about commitment. It was about family.
Jesus encounters this woman who had been bent over for eighteen years. He heals her on the Sabbath, sparking outrage from the synagogue leader who accuses him of breaking the law. Jesus responds by naming the hypocrisy: people untie their animals on the Sabbath, but they would deny a woman her freedom. The crowd rejoices, and his opponents are incensed.
This story confronts the tension between rigid law-keeping and the deeper law of love and justice. Jesus places compassion and liberation above rules and ritual observance. In progressive circles, this becomes a reminder that religion can sometimes be used to oppress rather than to liberate. The synagogue leader represents a religious system that prioritizes control and conformity over human dignity and flourishing.
Luke highlights that it is a woman — marginalized in the patriarchal world of the first century — who becomes the focal point of this miracle. She has been “bent over” for eighteen years, excluded from full participation in society and worship. Jesus calls her forward publicly, affirms her as a “daughter of Abraham,” and restores her to community. A progressive lens sees this as Jesus elevating women’s voices, bodies, and dignity, and resisting patriarchal silencing.
The Sabbath law was originally given as a gift of rest, especially for the vulnerable — slaves, workers, and foreigners (Exod. 20:10; Deut. 5:14). Jesus restores this intent: the Sabbath is not about prohibition but about freedom, justice, and rest for the weary. Healing the woman was not a violation of the Sabbath — it was a fulfilment of its deepest purpose. We need to see in this as a call to reinterpret tradition when it ceases to serve life.
Jesus names the woman’s condition as being bound by a spirit. Whether taken literally or symbolically, the language of “binding” invites us to think about what forces — social, political, economic, or psychological — keep people bent over today. Poverty, racism, sexism, homophobia, colonialism, and ableism are all “spirits” that cripple lives. Jesus’ action is a call to the church to be an agent of healing from systemic injustice.
Notice that Jesus heals her in the synagogue, in the middle of worship, in front of the community. It is not hidden away. This emphasizes that justice and liberation are not meant to be private acts of charity but public, visible, and communal celebrations of freedom. The woman’s healing challenges the religious order itself.
For the Church: The story warns faith communities not to let rules, traditions, or doctrines prevent them from acting with compassion. Whenever church law is used to exclude women, LGBTQ+ people, migrants, or the poor, the spirit of the synagogue ruler is alive. Jesus invites the church to side with liberation instead.
For Society: The “bent-over woman” becomes a symbol of all whose backs are bent under unjust systems. Healing means not just spiritual restoration but social and bodily dignity. True Sabbath — true justice — comes when the oppressed are lifted up.
For Personal Faith: Many people carry burdens that weigh them down for years. Jesus sees, calls, and restores — offering hope that transformation is possible.
Luke 13:10–17 proclaims that the Gospel is about freedom, justice, and the lifting up of the marginalized. Jesus’ healing of the bent-over woman is not just a miracle story but a manifesto: religion must never be used to bind people, only to free them. The Sabbath — and by extension, all spiritual practice — exists to serve human flourishing and dignity.
Jesus shows us that Sabbath is not simply about stopping work. It’s about being set free. It’s about compassion. It’s about standing tall after being bent down for too long.
For Sir Michael Jones, Sabbath meant saying no to rugby. For my father, it meant working hard with integrity, being loyal, providing for the family. For Jesus, it meant healing — even when others thought it broke the rules.
And so the question for us is not simply: “Should I work on the Sabbath or not?” The real question is: “How do my work, my rest, and my choices reflect the God of compassion, the God of freedom, the God who heals?”
Because Sabbath is not meant to burden us with rules. Sabbath is meant to lift our burdens. It is meant to free us. It is meant to give us space to rest and be thankful.
In this story, Jesus challenges the idea of waiting until another day to show compassion. He reminds us that when we see someone in need, we do not ask, “Is this the right day?”—we simply respond. Like the Samaritan who crossed the road to help, we are called to act in love and mercy whenever we encounter someone who is struggling.
Jesus sees us in our bent-over places. Jesus calls us to stand tall, to walk free, to claim our dignity. And Jesus asks the community — asks us — not to use faith as a weapon to restrict, but as a well of compassion to liberate.
The bent-over woman is every person weighed down by systems of injustice, every spirit bowed by grief, every voice silenced by shame. And the word of Christ for her, and for us, is still the same:
“You are set free.” May we, too, rejoice with her and stand tall in God’s liberating love.
GIVE ME BACK MY WINGS1
I’ve always walked upright
I’ve seen the sky when it’s blue
The flowers in bloom
I’ve walked past the bent over woman
But she couldn’t see me.
The Pacific meets the new missionaries
I’m told women could fly back then
Give me back my wings
That I may once again soar like a bird,
Give me back my wings
That I may rediscover the rooftops
And all that God created me to be.
Where is the bent over woman?
I look but I cannot see.
…it cannot be?
…that I am the bent over woman?
…could she be me?
God, I want to be free
Amen.
Audio of selected readings and reflections
Audio of the complete service
THANK YOU