THE HEALING POWER OF HIS LOVE
John 5: 1-9
Imagine
yourself as a first century time-traveler approaching Jerusalem’s Sheep
Gate during festival time. You barely notice the porticoes
surrounding a pool, so shocked are you by the crowds of invalids,
paralytics, and blind persons all seeking the healing waters of
Beth-zatha.
A bystander explains: The common understanding is that spirits,
believed to bring healing, are responsible for the stirring of the
waters in the pool. Before you can move away from the disturbing
sight of so many supplicants, you find yourself eavesdropping on a
conversation between a passerby called Jesus and a man ill for
thirty-eight years.
You can’t help but wonder why no one else in all this time has stopped
to assist the man. But then in a moment of painful
self-examination, you ask yourself, “Would I stop?”
You listen as the dialogue between the healer and the long-time invalid
results in the simple command, “Stand up, take your mat and
walk.” And before your eyes, the man is made well, indeed taking
up his mat and walking. Astonishing.
And yet the entire experience raises many questions for you, questions you ponder long after the healing.
Why has the invalid been coming to this place for thirty-eight
years? By his own admission he has no one to assist him into the
healing waters, and others always shove past him, denying him access to
the pool. What, you ask, could be going on in his mind for all
these years?
Is he such an optimist that he believes, like Charlie Brown attempting
to kick the football, that the next time ... or the next ... someone
will assist him into the pool and thereby facilitate his healing?
Or is he unsettled by the suspicion that he could make his way to the
pool, immerse himself in the healing waters, and discover that
absolutely nothing happens? What then? His life is centered
around this place and its healing properties. What if ... what if
... it’s all an empty promise? Would he then lose his purpose in
life? Worse yet, would he abandon all hope?
One could even suppose that through the years there actually had been
tenderhearted souls offering assistance to him, but whose help he
declined from fear of “testing the waters.”
Or in some hidden part of his psyche, does he ground his identity in
being a victim? After all, there are those who use, even relish,
their victim status. What if a miraculous healing at the same
time stripped that victimhood from him? Who would he be then?
He has perhaps often wondered what healing would require of him.
Stepping into the pool might mean there would be no turning back to the
old ways. The challenge of leaving the familiar behind and
accepting a new way of being may overwhelm him.
You, the time traveler, note the invalid’s uncertainty when the man
Jesus asks him, “Do you want to be made well?” You are stunned
that the invalid doesn’t shout, “Hallelujah! Yes, yes, yes!”
Instead he offers excuses and rationalizations. He’s helpless. Others have ignored or exploited him.
All of these scenarios are easy intellectual exercises for you, the
sophisticated, uninvolved time traveler. And then it hits
you. “Am I being judgmental?”
Slowly it dawns on you. Jesus is able to penetrate the layers of
self-protection this man has used to insulate himself from pain, fear,
and hopelessness. Jesus sees into his wounded heart and damaged
soul,
You are humbled by your insight. It is you who have been
blind. The answer is right in front of you. It is because
of his mercy and compassion that Jesus bestows upon this man the gift
available to all of us—the gift of new life.
Healing. A sacrament of the church. Listen to the words of
our Book of Common Prayer: “I lay my hands upon you in the Name of our
Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, beseeching him to uphold you and fill you
with his grace, that you may know the healing power of his love.”
What a promise—that I, that you,—might know the healing power of Jesus’
love! Like the invalid in the Gospel, we don’t need to muscle to
the head of the line to enter the healing pool. Jesus’ compassion
and healing touch are available to us all.
But hold on, you may say. Despite all our sacraments and prayers,
some appear not to be healed. They remain, ill, lame,
disturbed. So...how do we reconcile this reality with a
loving, compassionate God?
Yes, sometimes the questions seem too big for us and pat answers fail
to satisfy. But ask yourself: What does healing look
like? Do we always recognize it?
Perhaps we want or expect dramatic results worthy of a tent revival
faith healer, when, in fact, the healing that is actually going on is
subtle, occurs over time, and surprises us in its manifestations.
A case in point. For much of my adult life, I was the family
point person for addressing the serious, ongoing health issues of my
parents and brother. During that time, I lived from one
crisis to the next.
It seemed that no matter how hard I prayed or what healing ministries I
availed myself of, nothing changed. They were still ill and
incapacitated. My middle name was Stress, and there were times I
questioned why God had so burdened them and overloaded my plate.
Healing? What was that?
As you might guess, I was looking for healing in all the wrong places,
attempting in my arrogance to micromanage God. It was not my
brother, my mother, or my father who needed the miracle. My
family was fine—in faith and trust, they had already accepted their
health challenges. It was I who needed help.
When I finally gave my burden to God, the healing came, not in their recovery, but in my changed attitude and outlook.
There is a story told about Lee Atwater, George H.W. Bush’s campaign
manager. By his own admission, he was a ruthless, opportunistic,
difficult man. He had once even told President Bush that his
“kinder, gentler” theme was nice, but no vote-getter. Then
Atwater got brain cancer. Facing death, he changed, speaking with
the voice of the Golden Rule.
In the hospital, Atwater began listening to God and others, reaching
out to his fellow patients and attempting to mend the broken
relationships in his life. In his sickness, he blossomed into
something he never was before. He said, “My illness helped me to
see what was missing in society, what was missing in me: a little
heart, and a lot of brotherhood.” [Reported in Storytelling the Word by William J. Bausch]
The point here is that we need to listen and to raise the question
posed by the mystics: “What is the weeping asking of me? What is
the sickness, the brokenness, the off-centeredness asking of me?”
In Roberta Bondi’s book To Pray and To Love, she says
this: “In God all things are finally healed. Some of that
healing will only be completed in ways we cannot know in the final
renewal of all things in God. But much more than most of us are
ever willing to imagine can be healed in the course of this life as
well if we truly seek it and do not dictate to God what shape that
healing is to take.”
The church provides for the sacrament of healing. St. James’
offers a weekly healing service on Wednesdays at 2:00 PM.
After the 10:00 AM service is the opportunity for participating in the
anointing and laying on of hands, a sacrament also available upon
request at any time from a priest.
Perhaps such services and practices are unfamiliar to you, and you may
be curious about what happens. I would invite you, in the words
of Jesus, to “come and see.” All that is asked of you is to
observe, to pray, and to be present.
Healing involves the inward anointing of the Holy Spirit, but it
doesn’t exempt us from the laws of nature or from the human
condition. It means embracing the action of the Holy Spirit in
our lives, whatever form that may take.
Healing itself is a mystery. It doesn’t always play out as we
expect or desire. But as we open ourselves to the work of the
Holy Spirit, we, like the invalid man and like Lee Atwater, are changed
and made into new beings.
And, miracle of miracles, isn’t that the essence of Easter?
Amen.
Laura Shoffner
St. James' Episcopal Church
Eureka Springs. AR6 Easter
May 9, 2010
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