When Healing Isn't Coming
A Sermon on John 5
A friend recently sent me a book called “The Lord Is My Courage: Stepping through the Shadows of Fear Toward the Voice of Love,” by K.J. Ramsey. The book is an in-depth reflection of the 23rd Psalm, with a chapter not for each verse, but for each phrase. The author takes the psalm slowly; the first chapter is on just the first two words of the psalm, “The Lord.” In her exploration of “the Lord,” she doesn’t refer back to how the Lord reveals to Moses, as “I am who I am,” or John 1, “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” No, she recalls Jesus’s baptism, where God says, “This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well-pleased.” And the author reminds the reader that God, the Lord, also calls us “Beloved.” She starts with a reminder of our identity, who we are and whose we are. We belong to God, and God calls us “Beloved.” This author says that “these are the words we all most long to hear… You are seen and secure.” Because, she says, most of us struggle to have the courage to hear and believe that “we are beloved because we’ve all been baptized in different water – the stream of scarcity… There’s only so much room in this stream, so we usually become bullies or beggars – either pushing our way to have a place in the water or hanging back in case someone else elbows us out of the way or says we don’t belong.”
This is what has happened to the man by the pool at Bethsaida today. Unable to walk, others continually push him to the side and out of the way so that they can be the first to the pool. And this has been going on for 38 years! Thirty-eight years, this man has lived under the porticos by this pool, unable to walk, or even really move much unless someone is willing to help him. It’s a long time to live with an untreated chronic disease. Those of us who live with chronic conditions know that even when treated, even when under control, the pain and limitations can affect your mental health. It can affect how you think, what you think, what you spend your time doing.
So, when Jesus asks this seemingly simple yes/no question of “do you want to be healed?”, the man does not have a simple answer for him, much less the seemingly obvious answer of yes, he wants to be healed. Doesn’t everyone want to be healed? Doesn’t it make sense to us that even though the man doesn’t say yes, Jesus goes ahead and heals him, anyway? Except, Jesus usually waits for the person’s answer. He doesn’t usually plow ahead. Jesus usually engages the person in conversation, like he did in the previous chapter with the Samaritan woman at the well, or even the chapter before with Nicodemus. Perhaps the Gospel writer got tired of writing out conversations, yet there’s no record that Jesus engages this man in conversation. He comes across him, he asks a yes/no question which the man doesn’t directly answer, he heals him, anyway, and he moves on. But let’s slow this down and take a closer look at what’s going on here.
Jesus asks a yes/no question with a seemingly obvious answer. And the man does not answer yes or no. Instead, he says he feels stuck. He expresses ambivalence. And he says that he needs help; he cannot get unstuck by himself. For thirty-eight years, someone has always beat him to the pool, and it has affected his self-confidence and his sense of self. After thirty-eight years, can he even remember what it was like to walk? To stand up? Is he even sure he belongs here, under these gates? Is he worthy to receive the healing water from the pool. Or has he bought into a narrative of scarcity. There seems to be a finite amount of water to go around. Only the first one in the pool gets healed. Not the second, or the fifth, or the hundredth. There doesn’t seem to be enough water for him, too. It’s a blessing of scarcity, that can only be given once.
It reminds me of the story from Genesis 27 when Jacob stole his twin brother Esau’s blessing. With his mother’s help, Jacob dresses up like Esau, in animal pelts, and his mother cooks his father’s favorite stew. His father has gone blind, but the son who comes to see him feels hairy like Esau and smells like game, including in his favorite stew. Jacob pretends to be his older brother, and receives his older brother’s blessing. Not long after, Esau gets back from hunting and fixes his father’s favorite stew. He goes in to see him to receive his blessing, the blessing of the firstborn, and Isaac says, “I’ve already given my blessing.” Esau knows immediately that it was his brother, who was always quite deceitful. He begs for a blessing from his father, “Have you only one blessing? Bless me, me also, father!” I would guess that this man at the pool at Bethsaida could identify with Esau, begging for a blessing for himself, too. Is there a blessing for me, too?
The good news is that God’s grace and love are abundant and infinite. There is a blessing for you, too. There is healing for you, too. Everyone can receive healing. The waters that flow by the throne of God are never-ending. You are God’s beloved. With you, God is well-pleased. Promise. God’s love and mercy do not run out. They do not end. That’s what we know now; this man at the pool does not seem to know that. He feels stuck and ambivalent, because how can he believe that when there is only one person healed each time the pool water is troubled? There seems to only be so much healing to go around. He’s been waiting for 38 years. It’s no longer a simple yes/no question, do you want to be healed.
This past week, a few of us chaplains received a training (on Motivational Interviewing with Stephen Rollnick, a psychologist) related to working with patients who feel ambivalent, who may feel like healing isn’t coming. The trainer said that when someone feels stuck and ambivalent, the worst thing you can do is to present the case for why they should change. Do you know why? Because then usually the person will respond with all the reasons why they shouldn’t change. Confrontation is not helpful in this situation. Instead, what’s helpful is to come alongside the person. In chaplaincy, we often call this “companioning.” We’re here to journey with you. If you want to talk about your own reasons for changing, great. We’re happy to explore those with you and encourage you. But they’ve got to be your reasons, not anyone else’s.
The training included talking about a “righting reflex.” This is the human tendency that when we see a problem, we want to solve it. Right? If you see a problem, and you know how to fix it, it’s really hard to not step in and fix it. This is what Jesus does; it’s why he heals the man without the man ever agreeing to be healed. “I can heal you!” Bam. It’s done. Jesus being the most human, “I can fix this problem,” and most divine, a miraculous healing, at the same time. However, when this “righting reflex” meets ambivalence, it results in trouble and dysfunction. That’s why the man comes across as unwilling and ungrateful. If Jesus had come alongside him, like he does with so many others, if he had explored what was going on instead of assuming that he knew the problem and how to solve it and had the means to solve it, then the man probably wouldn’t have turned Jesus into the authorities for healing on the Sabbath. The man never got a chance to come up with his own reasons for healing. He didn’t get a chance to talk about his experiences over these thirty-eight years. He says he’s stuck, and Jesus just heals him. So, the man stays ambivalent. He’s no longer physically stuck, but he seems mentally and spiritually uncertain about his healing and what just happened. For years, he dreamt of this day and now it’s here, without any warning. I imagine he feels a bit disoriented, and his mind needs a minute to catch up to what just happened to his body.
Why? Because healing means change. It means living differently, being in the world differently and any time there is change, there is grief, because one thing is ending and another thing is beginning. He may have dreamt of healing, but could he imagine life after healing? Can he imagine life walking again? Or has it been so long that he can’t remember anymore. Maybe he had given up on those hopes. You can’t do what you can’t imagine. The good news, as Paul writes in Ephesians 3, is that God can do more than you can imagine. God can do more than you ask, think, or imagine, according to his power working in us. Do you want abundant life? Do you want the blessing that is there for you, too? Are you willing to be healed? Are you willing to live life differently?
If you’re feeling stuck or ambivalent about it, that’s ok. That’s where you are. And I know there are many folks here, including our chaplain service, who are willing and trained to come alongside you to explore what’s going on. What’s keeping you stuck? What makes a simple yes/no question hard to answer? Does healing feel like it’s a long way off? The man says he needs help. Do you need help? Do you know what kind of help? Sometimes we can get so stuck we don’t even know what kind of help we need to get un-stuck.
Before coming here, I was a chaplain at another hospital in the area, one which includes night shift (which we do not have here). At 4 a.m. one night last summer, I was called to the ED to meet with a patient who reminded me of the man at the pool at Bethsaida. He was stuck. He was in a wheelchair. He knew he needed help, so he came to the Emergency Room for medical help, and while there, he also asked for the chaplain to visit because he knew he needed spiritual help as well. He had some ambivalence, healing didn’t seem like it was coming, and he knew he couldn’t keep living how he had been any longer. He needed change, and he needed help to change. I’d like to share with you the poem I wrote about the encounter. The last stanza is a prayer, which I offer for all of you, as well.
I met the man waiting by the pool of Bethsaida He is middle aged and unable to walk He’s waiting to be healed Just like when Jesus met him He’s asking for help In the only way he knows how By coming to the hospital And asking for the chaplain The doctor asks which ailment to focus on (he has many) And he says the one that will make him walk again The chaplain asks what he needs And he says prayer and forgiveness He's been mistreated; he, in turn, has done the mistreating His body is keeping the score He's ready for healing; he wants to end the cycle He needs help getting in the pool for healing He feels unsure (ambivalent) he’ll be here in the morning So he asks for the chaplain to check He’s still here in the morning When the day shift arrives I met the man waiting by the pool of Bethsaida, Where they say the first one in the pool after the waters are stirred will be healed But when you can’t walk, how can you get in the pool by yourself? If no one helps you in, how can you get in to be healed? Jesus heals the man next to the pool of Bethsaida that day After making the Samaritan woman at the well feel seen After the midnight convo with Nicodemus After turning water into wedding wine Jesus, heal this man, too May he feel your forgiveness May he be able to extend forgiveness to others Jesus, heal him, body, mind, and soul Amen.