The Gospel tells the story of a woman who was bent over for eighteen year. No, that's not true. It doesn't tell her story, it just says that she was in the synagogue.
When I was seventeen eight of my classmates had summer jobs cutting grass in the Catholic cemetery. They worked under a year-round employee whose name I never hear. They always referred to him as Sickle-Ass. My classmate never mentioned the man's family or his religion, or his interest in sport or art. They usually chuckled a little when they mentioned Old Sickle Ass. They thought they were clever for giving the man that nick-name.
They never practiced any empathy by trying to share the old fellow's heartaches, but Jesus did that with the woman who was bent over for eighteen years. His concern for her washed over his soul, and he reached out and cured her.