The Pool of Bethesda
He had been crippled for 38 years. Considering what life expectancy was like in those days, that was more revolutions around the sun as an invalid than most people were blessed with in a lifetime. He had spent that time languishing on a filthy pile of rags, putrid with sweat and age, gazing listlessly at the murky waters of the pool not far distant. He was a man fresh out of hope. Without the ways or means to carve out an alternate path for himself.
He was surrounded by the constant bleating of dying humanity. Sick and waning in strength they moaned and sighed like a ceaseless tide. The nights were the worst because it was then, as the city slumbered and the ambient sounds of man and beast were hushed, that the groans of the sick and dying were amplified.
This was his life when he met the rabbi called Jesus. Perhaps he had heard of him, we don’t really know. Their conversational exchange suggests that he may have not. Maybe he was too closely wrapped in his own sorrows to pay attention to the stories flying around him. Stories of a man who was not only a great teacher but also a healer. Whispers that maybe, just maybe, the long awaited deliverer had come.
When Jesus came to walk among the suffering multitude beside the pool of Bethesda his eyes fell upon this shadow of a man. Jesus was drawn to him. Of all the men he could have touched, he chose to touch this one, probably because he looked to be one of the most miserable and hopeless.
When Jesus approached him the man barely looked up from his dazed reverie. The travel worn sandals and stained feet that paused in his line of vision probably looked like a thousand others that had passed him by. Maybe he expected the man, whoever he was, to keep walking. It seemed inevitable. Everyone else had. But this Man was different. He wasn’t a curious bystander nor was he a righteous gawker come to take the measure of those whom, all Jews believed, were under the just condemnation of God.
Jesus was a man on a mission.
Stooping down to look the crippled man in the face, Jesus tenderly asked him “Do you want to be made well?”
The man misunderstood Jesus’ words. He thought Jesus was referring to the fabled miracle that was said to take place at the pool. It was said that at certain times of the year, an angel went down into the pool and stirred the waters. Whoever managed to get into the water first was healed.
It seemed like a fool’s errand to a crippled man. How was he supposed to get to the water without help, let alone before someone else stepped in first? Despondent he said to Jesus “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; but while I am coming, another steps down before me.”
Jesus didn’t pause to untangle the misconception, instead he simply said “Rise, take up your bed and walk” Jesus' command was clear enough, there was no room for misunderstanding. As the realization of what was happening dawned on the man he fixed his eyes on Jesus. Grasping his words like a lifeline, his faith rose to the surface and, being made well, he rose, took up his bed and walked.
It was a powerful miracle. The man without a doubt, had been crippled for 38 years and Jesus simply spoke a word and healed what was broken. The miracle caused a stir but not for the reasons that seemed obvious. It wasn’t a triumphant melee that erupted in response to a moment of poignant hope. Instead what rose up were the jealous murmurs of angry priests and rulers, using a cloak of righteous indignation to cover up their malice.
Addressing the man who had been cured they said “It is the Sabbath; it is not lawful for you to carry your bed” and the man innocently answered “He who made me well said to me ‘Take up your bed and walk”
When they questioned him about who had healed him and found out that it was Jesus who had done the deed they sought to kill him, ostensibly because he had disregarded their rules regarding Sabbath keeping but in truth because they hated the influence he was gaining over the people.
In healing the crippled at Bethesda Jesus taught the Jews that the Sabbath was meant to be a day of healing for those who were not only physically sick but also spiritually, mental and emotionally broken as well. The man at the pool of Bethesda was suffering as a direct result of sins he had committed and yet, no word of condemnation fell from Jesus’ lips. The man had repealed the bitter consequences of his actions for 38 long years. He understood what had happened to him and why. There was no more need for instruction, only healing and that is exactly what Jesus did. He made him whole; not just physically but spiritually as well.
Often when we see human suffering we are content to alleviate the most visceral needs and there is nothing wrong with that. A bowl of soup for a hungry man, medical assistance for a sick child, a simple act of kindness towards a stranger. Each of these acts of service and others like them are a necessary part of being human and of revealing the love of God but too often we stop at the physical without reaching out to touch something more vital.
When Jesus ministered to the needs of people he didn’t just meet their physical needs. Every encounter was a means to help bring spiritual healing to a sin sick soul. How effective are we in doing the same? A bowl of soup will go a long way towards filling an empty stomach but an introduction to Jesus in an equally unpretentious way can go a long way towards eternity. Let’s take a minute to think about that.
