22 May SUNDAY, MAY 22, 2022

The name of the pool or intermittent spring meant house of mercy and/or flowing water. It was a place associated with ritual, bringing sheep to the temple in Jerusalem. According to tradition, on occasion an angel of the Lord would be sent to “stir the water.” Whoever stepped in first would become healed. Gee, that hardly sounds merciful: making sick people wait and compete for a rare opportunity.

Case in point, one poor guy has been lying there sick for 38 years. No wonder Jesus felt bad for him and asked if he actually wanted to get well. Once before I mentioned a seminary exercise where students were blindfolded and led several blocks. With arms outstretched, our hands were placed on the shoulders of a person in front. We were steered into a maze, then separated.

There was in fact, no exit. One by one, each student who previously surrounded me fell silent. Everyone seemed to be literally disappearing. I grew increasingly frustrated and angry. Not one for pranks or games of this sort, I was ready to quit. One of the leaders spoke to me. “What do you want, Nancy?” I grew even more angry knowing the one asking was one who chose this game. They knew the answer. Through tears, I said, “To get out of here.”

I was blindfolded and alone. The reason I didn’t whip off the blindfold was because I knew there was a solution and wanted to discover it myself. Soon a different voice approached and asked, “What do you want, Nancy?” This was a familiar voice, one I trusted, belonging to a classmate named Elizabeth. I answered, “For you to help me.” Immediately, I was whisked out of the maze to join everyone else.

If the aim of the game/exercise was to prove how hard it is for some people to ask for help rather than fail at doing it themselves, I had certainly proven the point. What made me mad was that the situation was contrived. Only moments before they had impressed upon us the idea of relying on and trusting each other. In this instance, they removed our ability to communicate or work cooperatively.

Apparently there was no cooperative effort that prioritized carrying the sick man into the water for thirty eight years. But when it comes to baptizing babies, the cooperative forces of tradition along with various family, friends and clergy members converge. It’s true for most of us, our arrival at the font is similar to one’s chance of being healed at the waters of Bethesda. The dis-abled must rely upon other persons’ willingness to facilitate.

Also true for most of us, the thing we dread more than all else is becoming dependent. God forbid we should become like the man at the pool of Siloam: without means to help ourselves; unable to compete, stuck for decades without making progress. That’s the truth. Pride is built on helping ourselves, being able to compete, and achieving goals: making progress or at the least, maintaining current status. Everything is geared to make us think this way, even religion.

When speaking to other Christians, we always disagree on one point: the idea of whether we choose or depend upon grace to even make that choice. The nicest Christians will insist that people must choose. Even when grace is acknowledged as necessary, most Christians will still insist that people must choose to follow, obey and respond accordingly.

Look at what happens in today’s gospel lesson. The man sounds like me during that blindfold experiment. He doesn’t say, “I want your help.” He explains why he hasn’t been able to help himself and complains further, “No one has offered help, but goes first when I get near.”

Jesus extends an invitation and the invitation itself does the healing. Stand up; pick up your mat and walk. Immediately he was well. He didn’t need to wait for the water to stir or travel into its depths. Jesus proved that the Sabbath was not about ritual. It was about extending compassion and healing beyond a moment in time.

What we choose is how to follow up after being healed. The purpose of healing a lame man was not so he could then walk to the water, the purpose of healing a blind person was not so they could see the pool’s edge. The purpose of healing and restoration, of baptism and the communion of saints is not celebration of a single occurrence. It’s a celebration of their effect over the course of a lifetime.

How we choose is both the result of grace and dependent upon it moving forward. Because the Lord is the one who makes healing and restoration possible. In Luke 5:24, Jesus says to the paralyzed man, “Rise, pick up your bed and go home.” He says this to show he had authority on earth to forgive sins. The Sabbath, Baptism, Confession and Forgiveness are not about ritual, but a continuous invitation to experience healing.

Numerous times in life, we experience dependency. Unable to choose for ourselves, incapable of arriving on our own two feet, unable to compete or come first, someone who loves us, a comrade or perhaps a stranger will choose to carry our bodies toward waters of mercy, to a place we’ll find healing. May we always realize that it was God who approached us and extended the invitation.

That Jesus chose to heal on the Sabbath reminds us of human tendencies to follow rules rather than act compassionately, to worry about our own chances. When one person brings another before God in prayer or literally before a place of mercy, both arrive at a place of renewal. Both can move forward, living with confidence, knowing each was given everything needed to experience healing day in and day out the rest of their lives.

May we never be fooled by a person who desires to hear but one response, whose aim is not to actually help, but prove a point. Think about it. Jesus knew exactly what took place in Bethesda. According to Bible.org and the NET Bible Dictionary, the pool was “a rock-cut, rain-filled cistern, 55 ft. long [by] 12 ft. broad, and [was] approached by a steep and winding flight of steps.”

Had Jesus wanted to check out the pool itself, he’d have instantly gone where the water was. He could have stirred the water himself then waited to see who would arrive first, waiting to congratulate them by offering a high five. That would have been easier and more in line with what most people do where some win and some lose.

Do YOU wish to be healed?

But being Jesus, he chose to see who had gathered in need, who was waiting their turn, who had waited awhile and was still suffering. Who could he help while he was there? Jesus asks, “Do YOU wish to be healed?” Are you convinced you can get there on your own, whatever that means to you, get better, get farther, or just get by? How long will you try under your own power, by your own wits or in wait of other people’s consideration?

God knows that the hardest people to help are the ones who feel capable of doing it themselves, whatever doing it means from day to day. The guy at the pool didn’t answer the question right. He started his conversation with Jesus by complaining and describing the disadvantage of being who he was. And Jesus listened. Jesus invited. Jesus healed.

Sometimes healing comes from just being heard. Upset at the whole blindfold experiment, my classmates and the instructors listened as I explained the unnecessary harm they caused. I learned that my expectations assume certain parameters that not everyone agrees to, that my motivations and desired outcomes don’t always match that of the larger group to which I belong.

Who do you know who’s been waiting decades for circumstances to change? Perhaps they’ve been waiting for generations? Who gathers (or protests) around a place hoping for mercy? Who is powerless, that is, not able to help themselves? Will we blame them for their misfortune or help them reach their goal? When Jesus asked, “Do you want to be well,” he was not aiming for a certain response. I believe that he truly wished to know what the man desired before he granted his wish.

Let us pray. Lord, we thank God that your mercy and love for us is not intermittent like a bubbling spring or hard to approach like the pool of Bethesda. We thank you that there is no wait or competition among us for your attention or for healing. We come to you now admitting to a need. We may not be able to name it, but you know how we suffer from an ailment we cannot cure. Guide us to where other people hurt and through us, may your presence offer them the chance to experience healing for the rest of their lives. In your holy name we pray, Amen.