Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate there is a pool, called in Hebrew Bethesda, which has five porticoes. In these lay many invalids—blind, lame, and paralysed. One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, ‘Do you want to be made well?’ The sick man answered him, ‘Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Stand up, take your mat and walk.’ At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk. John 5:2-9
It must have been one of the most wretched, miserable
places in Jerusalem.
The pool of Bethesda (or Bethzatha) was surrounded by a “great
number of disabled people… the blind, the lame, the paralysed” lying there (can
you picture them?), in the forlorn hope that a miraculous healing might occur.
Apparently from time to time the waters of the pool would
be mysteriously “stirred”, and the belief was that if you were lucky enough to
get into the water at once you might be healed. This was no doubt pure superstition,
perhaps growing out of a one-off coincidence that had got talked around; but a
belief in fake cures (“hope springs eternal in the human breast”, after all) is
a feature of human nature throughout history – don’t be taken in by the
snake-oil salesman!
John tells us that Jesus visited this desolate place,
presumably surveyed the scene with compassionate eyes, and then focussed his attention
on a man who had been coming to the pool for thirty-eight years. Within moments
the man was up and walking, in response first to Jesus’ penetrating question, “Do
you want to get well?”, and, second, his sharp command, “Get up! Pick up your
mat and walk”. (No mumbo-jumbo, no “stirred water” there!) Various questions
arise…
First, why did Jesus choose to visit
this particular place?
John tells us it was “for one of the Jewish festivals”, but
he doesn’t tell us which one. All we know from the Gospels as a whole is that
he loved to be among ordinary, and especially among needy, people. That thought
alone presents us with a challenge.
At Christmas we celebrate the fact that when he “came down
to earth from heaven” he didn’t come to a palace or to a rich family’s home,
but to a make-shift birth-place, and that set a pattern for his earthly life
(he “had nowhere to lay his head”, Matthew 8:20). Not that he neglected or
ignored the rich and powerful; not at all. He valued all people alike, but frequently
chose to be among those right at the bottom of the pile.
So?
Well, we might not be in a position to devote our lives to
looking after “the poor and mean and lowly”, but what we can do is come
honestly before God to ask if there is anything practical he might want us to
do, not least in terms of financial support for charities and other
organisations, Christian and otherwise, which work at the sharp end of human
need.
The church, especially in the western world, is sometimes
accused of being “middle-class”, biased in favour of the relatively well off. Would
we, in Jesus’ place, have wrinkled our noses and kept well away from Bethesda?
Second, why did he choose this
particular man to talk to?
It seems likely that somebody had drawn his attention to
him – he “learned that he had been in this condition for a long time” - at
38 years probably the longest-suffering person in this sad place. But more to
the point, we notice that Jesus approaches the man rather than vice versa –
usually the person in need comes to Jesus in faith. Was Jesus wanting to make
some particular point?
This leads to a third question: does Jesus’ very
direct question “Do you want to get well?” imply an element of criticism? Is it
something of a rebuke?
Why would Jesus feel the need to ask that question? Is he
suggesting that, while not doubting that the man has a real problem, he suspected
him of having got used to being overly dependent on the kindness and good will
of others? All right, he has nobody to help him into the waters when they stirred,
but presumably there were people who brought him food and looked after his
basic needs? How else would he have survived? And thirty-eight years is a very
long time!
The ancient world was familiar with people we might call
“professional beggars” who had discovered that, while a disability might be
genuine, it could perhaps be taken advantage of rather than struggled against,
especially given the lack of any welfare state.
Likewise, GP doctors in Britain today report the rising
numbers of patients who come to see them virtually demanding a sick-note so
that they need not work – sometimes even with threats. You hear too of
prisoners leaving prison and immediately committing another crime because life
inside is preferable to life outside. Had the man in the story slipped into
that frame of mind? Is Jesus’ sharp question intended to put him on the spot?
We need to be very careful here, of course, especially
those of us who have been blessed with good health and strength (and never seen
the inside of a prison), because certainly there are genuine, honest people who
lack the ability to work, and who should receive all the support they can get.
Who are we to judge them?
But, putting it bluntly, Jesus didn’t call his followers to
expect an easy ride. “Take up your cross and follow me” is no invitation to
ease and comfort! Reading the lame man’s character that day at Bethesda, could
it be that he decided it was time to address him with a deliberately abrupt command:
“Get up! Pick up your mat and walk”?
This is only speculation, of course, but it can’t be ruled
out. And so we are reminded that Jesus calls us to salvation from our sins, not
to an insurance policy against all the troubles and hardships of an uncertain
world. (Paul reinforces this robust attitude in 2 Thessalonians 3:10: “The one
who is unwilling to work shall not eat”: no messing there!)
We may live a long, long way from the lame man at Bethesda,
our circumstances very different from his. But we too can be lazy, too content
with settling for second or third best when there is no need. Could Jesus’
words “Pick up your bed and walk!” (or as we might put it, “Time to get off
your backside!”) be a word for some of us today?
Father, thank you for the mercy and compassion
of Jesus, especially for those in greatest need. Thank you too that he expects
his followers to sometimes endure hardship: Lord, save me from laziness and
self-pity when the way is hard. Amen.
Soften my heart, Lord,/ Soften my heart,/ From all
indifference/ Set me apart./ To feel your compassion,/ To weep with your tears.
/ Come, soften my heart, O Lord,/ Soften my heart. Amen. Graham Kendrick.
