Day of the Church Year: 6th Sunday of Easter
Scripture Passage: John 5:1-9
Today, Jesus encounters a man who has been ill for 38 years lying near a pool believed to bring healing, the pool called Bethzatha in Jerusalem. In the presence of many people afflicted with various illnesses, people presumably abandoned by family, Jesus asks the man a striking question: Do you want to be made well?
Jesus asks because the man has been ill for 38 years. The man will later tell Jesus that he has no one to put him into the pool, that while he painstakingly makes his own way to the pool, someone else steps down ahead of him.
But the man has been ill for 38 years. In the ancient world, 38 years is a lifetime, actually. In 38 years, the man has not been able to persuade a single person to help him into the pool? In 38 years, though difficult, the man has not made it there himself—as he indicates he can though with some trouble?
Now, we know Jesus. We know he is compassionate. We know he loves this man. Jesus does not view this man with pity. Jesus also does not lament an indifferent world that has failed to help this man. Jesus asks the man: Do you want to be made well? Because in the worldview of this man and all those who are lying near the pool Bethzatha, getting into the pool will bring healing. So if the man wants to be made well, it is within his grasp.
As usual, I think Jesus is brilliant here. A decade ago, I would listen to people’s stories, stories of wrongs done to them, afflictions endured, slights received. I would listen to people’s stories of trauma, significant trauma, challenges raw and real, complex problems not easily solved. As a younger pastor, I assumed people wanted me to help them solve their problems. After all, they came and told them to me. I would get so confused when I would offer up handy solutions to their problems, solutions they could put in motion right there in my office, and people would decline. I vividly remember the day someone who was telling me their problems got increasingly agitated as I made one reasonable suggestion after another. Finally, guided by the Holy Spirit, I asked them: Do you want to solve this problem? No, they said. I don’t. I just want you to listen.
Similarly, just a few days ago, after listening to someone talk about a difficulty for which they had devised a workable solution, I asked if they would like to come into the office and make the phone call that would be the first step in executing their plan. No, they said, looking a bit abashed. They went on to say: I know what I need to do, but I’m not ready to do it.
Just because someone appears to be struggling, ailing, in need doesn’t mean they want to be made well, doesn’t mean we want to be made well. Maybe our vision of what “wellness” is is different than other people’s. Maybe we’re not ready for change. Maybe change is scarier than the current situation. Maybe we in some way strangely benefit from our struggle. Maybe we assume we are not capable of being healed—or that we don’t deserve it.
When Jesus asks the question, the man responds but fails to answer Jesus’ question. The man does not tell Jesus if he wants to be well, and I wonder if it’s because he assumes he won’t be, no matter what he does. I wonder this because I too am prone to this type of thinking.
Over twenty years ago now, I was admitted to the hospital, my first and so far only time. I was in my last year of college, and I was terrified. Terrified as my symptoms began, while I contemplated going to the hospital, on the drive to the hospital, in the ER as the nurse started an IV, when they eventually moved me into a room. I was terrified because I didn’t know yet that, when we are sick, usually, we heal. Especially when we’re 22 and not facing a chronic illness. I was terrified because I assumed I would live with my symptoms forever. I assumed that every condition was a chronic condition. In fact, I was discharged 6 hours later because my symptoms had resolved. My body healed. I was surprised.
Jesus tells the man to pick up his mat and walk. Which must have surprised him after 38 years of illness. After a lifetime, this man could still be healed.
In what aspects of our lives do we assume healing is no longer possible? Perhaps we have been alienated from member of our family. Perhaps we have been living out unhealthy communication patterns we learned in childhood. Perhaps we have lived with addiction for decades. Perhaps there’s always been this thing we can’t shake, maybe a lack of compassion for ourselves, a particular fear, something that lives under our skin constantly and leaves us anxious. In these aspects of our lives, we can get scared if someone asks: Do you want to be made well? Because what happens if we seek healing and it fails? What happens if we seek healing and it works? Our lives will change.
Jesus shares good news today, that even after 38 years of illness, we can stand, pick up our mats, and walk. By the grace of God, we can be made well. It’s some tricky good news because we well know that not every illness or condition is healed. We know that chronic illness, including chronic mental illness, is real. And even acute illness leaves scars. We know that the trauma some of us have endured means our emotional lives are a tangle. We know that the complex truths of our lives require complex healing. It’s not simple. But if we are wondering today if healing is possible, the answer is yes. If we are wondering if healing is possible after a lifetime of illness, trauma, and challenge, the answer is yes.
Just as Jesus says to the man waiting 38 years by the pool Bethzatha, so I say to you: Stand, pick up your mat and walk. By the grace of God, healing is possible. Thanks be to God! Amen.