Sign, Wonder, and the Art of Deflection

One day, Jesus entered a synagogue where he was offered an opportunity to teach (Luke 6:6-11). But this wasn’t just any day; it was the Sabbath. And there were specific regulations about what one could and could not do on the Sabbath.

So, when Jesus encountered a man in the synagogue whose right hand was withered, the religious leaders took notice and watched what Jesus would do. Their shared sense of outrage was ignited when Jesus reached out and healed the man, claiming that it was lawful to do good on the Sabbath. But the leaders saw it differently. For them, this act was nothing more than a flagrant violation of Sabbath law.

For Jesus, the healing was a sign of God’s kingdom. For the leaders, it was a sign of religious disregard. They saw the sign, but they lacked wonder. There would be no reflection on what was really happening in front of their eyes. And their interpretation of the sign was actually an act of deflection. If they could turn people’s attention to the violation, then the value of the healing might fade into insignificance.

That’s how deflection works. If people’s focus can be moved away from an act or an event to something consequential or tangential to it, then the thing itself is diminished in its value.

A man’s hand is restored, but the value of the healing is disregarded because of Sabbath violation.

There are protests about police brutality and racism, but the value of the reason for the protests is diminished when attention is diverted to the resulting violence and looting.

People cry out, “Black lives matter!” But the outcry is muffled when it is subsumed by the counter-cry, “All lives matter!”

We see signs of injustice, and such signs should also produce the kind of wonder that opens our eyes and hearts to the pain and suffering of others. But deflection diverts our attention in such a way that the sign is reinterpreted, diminished, or subsumed, and wonder becomes irrelevant.

Deflection is an art form. It can be helpful at a Thanksgiving dinner when weird Uncle Harold wants to start a political argument. Deflecting the conversation toward his interest in collecting rare coins or brewing beer might help save the family gathering from disruption and anguish.

But deflection can also be strategically employed in order to turn people’s attention from very real and important issues. The most effective aspect of such deflection is the legitimacy of the claims made by the deflectors. Yes, it was true that Jesus’ work of healing took place on the Sabbath. Yes, it is true that violence and looting are destructive acts. Yes, it is true that all human lives are of value.

But the art of deflection starts a new conversation that produces a fog that hides the real issues from view and makes them irrelevant. The restored hand is irrelevant because it was restored on the Sabbath. Police brutality and racism is irrelevant because violence and looting took place during some protests. The value of black lives is irrelevant because the value of everyone else’s lives swallows the violation of black lives into an abyss of disinterest.

People of faith, in particular, should not allow deflection to take priority over reflection. When we see the signs of injustice, we must allow wonder to emerge so that we see with open eyes and hear with open ears. Deflection closes us to the possibilities that the cries for justice that we hear may actually be invitations to enter the work of God’s kingdom. It should be the people of God who are among the first to respond to those signs and who do not allow the masters of deflection to have their way.

As Jesus said to his detractors: “When it is evening, you say, ‘It will be fair weather, for the sky is red.’ And in the morning, ‘It will be stormy today, for the sky is red and threatening.’ You know how to interpret the appearance of the sky, but you cannot interpret the signs of the times” (Matt. 16:2-3).

May it not be so among us.