“I HAVE CALLED YOU BY NAME”
PRECIOUS
Isaiah 43:1-4a
Luke 13:10-17
Rev. Gary Paterson
March 14, 2010
Several years ago, I was participating in a Bible study—walked into the class, ready for a learned presentation, a meaningful discussion. But very first thing -- the leader asked us all to stand, bend over at the waist and stare at our feet. Seemed a bit silly, but hey, I’m an agreeable type. The seconds stretched into a minute… “Hold the position!” were our further instructions; another couple of minutes; I was beginning to feel uncomfortable – back muscles complaining ever so slightly. “Now, begin to walk around the room… no, I didn’t tell you to stand up. Keep your position, back bent, looking at your feet… and walk.” Definitely feeling less agreeable; definitely feeling uncomfortable… and stupid. “Now, try greeting the person beside you… no… don’t look up; just twist your head as best you can; smile; shake hands; introduce yourselves.” And so it went… I lost track of time… endless; hours… that’s what it seemed like; probably ten minutes. “Now listen,” the leader said, as she opened her Bible, and began reading, “ Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight.”
And so it began… eighteen years. That’s a long time to walk through the world bent over, staring at your feet; not able to look others in the eye. Not able to marry … who wants a bent over woman? -- in first century Palestine that was close to being a death sentence. Not able to work either… which meant poverty; always begging for the next meal. Receiving a hand out, if you’re lucky…. somebody takes pity on you… a little charity. It’s hard to know what’s worse – the discomfort and pain of a twisted spine, or the reaction of those who left you at the edges of village life.
But that’s not where the story ends… “When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, ‘Woman, you are set free from your ailment.’ When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God.” Jesus is a healer, and invites this woman to move into a new life, where she is free, unburdened; where she stands tall, and experiences wholeness, transformation. That’s good news; that’s gospel.
Right this moment, upstairs in the Sunday School room, our children are discovering another healing story. A different one… a paralyzed man who is brought to Jesus by his four friends. It’s a great story for kids, perfect for acting out. The friends each grab hold of a corner of the stretcher, and because there’s a crowd around Jesus, they have to climb up to the roof, take off some of the tiles, attach some ropes to the stretcher, and then lower their friend down, down, down, right at Jesus’ feet. And Jesus speaks, “Pick up your bed and walk.:” Which is to say, be free, unburdened, stand tall and experience wholeness and transformation. More gospel.
Last Wednesday, at the Christian Prayer and Buddhist Mindfulness Group, our leader, Judith Rees-Thomas, invited us into a contemplative meditation which focussed on the healing of a blind man. “Have mercy on me,” he kept crying, and Jesus asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” And he replied, “I want to see.” And that’s what happened.
Miracle stories I guess… at least, that’s what they sound like. But I think more is happening than meets the eye or ear. I don’t want to argue about whether these healings happened just as described – maybe they did; but what is certain is that if we get caught up in arguments of literal interpretation, the power of the story is truncated, diminished. For surely, at some deep level, we are moving in a world of metaphor, where the healing of a bent-over woman, a parlyzed man, a blind person become moments of gospel proclamation, declaring that the God who is being revealed in the ministry of Jesus desires that everyone experience new life, and whose Spirit is at work, bringing about wholeness, transformation, a power that brings freedom, that leaves you standing tall… a taste of resurrection.
Surely these stories are meant to speak to each one of us, we who are feeling burdened by our lives, unable to move forward, not seeing new possibilities. They are good news stories holding forth a promise that we too might set free from what binds us, that we too might discover a new life. Indeed, I wonder if what we are seeing in our own city these days, in the lives of so many Paralympians, is yet another example of what transformation looks like. Not miracle cures, but new possibilities, and changed social attitudes – all of which lead to a new wholeness of spirit, mind and body. Can you imagine a gospel story that begins with, “There was a young man who lost his leg to cancer… and feeling the power of the Spirit, he hip-hopped his way from Newfoundland to northern Ontario, and touched a nation’s heart.”
Now, you may be wondering when I’m going to get around to talking about an Oscar-nominated movie…. which is why some of you are probably here. So let me change focus, while staying with the same gospel theme. Let’s talk about Precious – God knows, a woman who is burdened, stuck, hurting, in pain, paralyzed, so bent-over by all that life has loaded on her back; someone who desperately needs healing. Harlem, late eighties; a sixteen year old black woman, morbidly obese… probably three hundred pounds plus; illiterate. Sexually abused… starting at age three. Regularly raped by her father; at age twelve she gives birth to a child with Down’s Syndrome. Now, once again pregnant, the result of yet another incestuous rape. Teased, tormented and bullied by her classmates. Kicked out of school. And when she returns home, where you hope she might find comfort from her mother, Mary – and surely the religious irony is intended – well, she gets nothing but further torment – because this Mary is a harridan from hell, a monster, whose main enjoyment in life, after smoking and channel surfing, is found in belittling, attacking and abusing her daughter, in ways unimaginable. Indeed, Precious is one bent-over woman.
“Precious” is a hard movie to watch, as the director Lee Daniels forces us to see every grimy, gritty, appalling detail. You want to turn away; you want to dismiss what you see as over-the-top melodrama. One critic called the film “poverty porn,” but not so – for even as you sit watching, feeling completely appalled and overwhelmed, you sense the reality of what is being revealed. If you wanted to, if you were up to it, you could find Precious in Vancouver. Perhaps at the Youth Centre, just a couple of blocks down Burrard street, a young girl who has run away from home, who has lived through sexual abuse, who sells her body on the street to get enough money for another hit, anything to dull the pain and get through the day, the night. Or maybe drop in at First United, and talk to some of the three hundred folk who will be sleeping there tonight. Or perhaps visit any number of AA groups, and listen to the stories that are being told. Vancouver is full of bent-over people who hunger for healing, who probably don’t believe it’s possible. And here, in this congregation, although it may not be as dramatic, I’ll bet lots of us… maybe all of us… could tell stories of feeling overwhelmed, paralyzed by grief, despair, feeling trapped, nowhere to go…. a little bit of Precious in all of our lives.
But you already know this story… bad news is easy to come by. Which is another way to say that we are hungry, all of us, for gospel, for some good news. Perhaps this is why we are willing to endure the brutality of this movie, “Precious,” because it doesn’t end with the bad news, but suggests that transformation really is possible, even if it appears only as a slender hope. This film is a gospel story, frankly, moving from pain to possibility, from abuse to kindness, from death to life; from being bent-over, paralyzed, blind, to standing tall and free, walking into a different future. “Precious” is a Lenten film with an Easter conclusion… although just like that first resurrection, the ending may sometimes feel unbelievable.
It begins with imagination. Deep inside this young woman, Precious, there is a dream of a different life. Just when the events of her “real” life become overwhelming, she slips into a fantasy world, where she is glamorous, beloved, desirable, full of laughter and admiration. It is a technique that the director uses, I suspect, to convince us, the audience, to hang in there, but it also alerts to the power of imagination. There is more going on in Precious than is summed up by the horror our her outward circumstances. Now, this fantasy life could end up merely being an escape valve, and indeed, the alternatives that Precious does imagine are shaped by glitz, glamour and TV reality. Such a world could easily lead to a dead end, and probably, in the long run, could only be sustained by a slide into drugs, with their seductive easing of the pain. But imagination is also a gift, and allows hope to enter into Precious’ life. Elusive, almost impossible… but still, hope.
The movies makes good use of song, as a backdrop to what is happening on screen, and early on we hear a 1930’s tune:
That’s what’s happening for Precious; her imagination creates fantasy dreams that walk and talk and dance. And maybe, just maybe they might come true. As Rick Hansen said at the opening Ceremonies of the Paralympics, on stage in his wheelchair, “There is nothing you can’t do if you put your mind to it. Anything is possible.” Well… maybe.Did you ever see a dream walking?Well, I did.Did you ever see a dream talking?Well, I did….Oh, it’s so grand, and it’s too, too divine!Did you ever see a dream dancing”Well, I did….
In this movie, change becomes possible through the hope that lives in other people, that reach out to Precious, perhaps because they see something in her, a spark, or maybe just because they are determined to make a difference, or maybe just because they can’t help themselves from trying, even if the odds of hope becoming real seem so minuscule. It’s the principal that kick starts the journey… picture this harassed inner city school principal, puffing desperately away on her cigarette, pushing the buzzer of Precious’ tenement apartment, taking the time to invite this lost, pregnant, overweight, expelled-from-school, black teenager into an alternative school programme, “Each One Teach One” – what are the chances of Precious accepting this invitation? Who knows; but the principal chooses to act in hope.
Maybe the bigger surprise is that Precious decides to try it – her dreams give her the strength to take that one step… suspicious, doubting, wary of yet another kick in the head, yes; but she responds. She is met by a teacher who hopes all things, believes all things, endures all things. Whose love never ends. (To quote a well known Biblical passage.) Then there’s the social worker; and the maternity nurse; and the group of young women who are Precious’ classmates in this alternative literacy class. This is hope with skin on it, in the flesh, real people who actually care… I would call it incarnation. “What do you want me to do for you?” is the question that is being asked in one way or another; and Precious is able to respond… “I want to see, I want to read, I want to take care of my baby, I want to be free, I want to be loved.”
It doesn’t come easily; it takes hard work; it takes time. There’s another theme song, this time at the end of the film, as Patti Labelle sings,