Invalid
Thirty-eight years.
I had kept track. He had been there thirty-eight years. I'm the caretaker of this pool, this place of healing, and so I know everyone who hangs out here for any length of time. And he had been here thirty-eight years.
This is a strange and holy place. We call it "Bethesda," the House of Mercy. The water is ordinary water, I can tell you that for a fact. It comes from a spring nearby, and I'm the one who wades into it every day to make sure it stays clean and presentable. But every once in a while, the waters stir. I think it's probably a bubble in the spring, but a tradition began around here that it was an angel stirring the waters. And the belief became that the first person in the water after it was stirred would be healed.
So the House of Mercy has become a place for the sick, the hurting and the dying. More than once, I've been witness to someone's death as they waited for and hoped for healing. Being a caretaker can be a sobering and difficult job.
I'm a very practical man, so it's hard for me to believe in this angel business. Oh, I believe in God, don't doubt that. I always have. God's been good to me. I'm just not sure that about this angel business. If God wanted to heal someone with these waters, why would they have to wait until some random time when the waters stirred? And why only one? Why wouldn't God heal everyone who got in? And yet...and yet, I've seen too many people healed here to be a complete cynic. I may doubt, but I do believe. God does seem to hand out mercy here, and healing. So I've not done anything to squash the legend. I just go along with it.
But, back to him. The thirty-eight year resident. He really is sort of a resident. He's able to go home when someone comes and gets him, but sometimes he stays at the pool all night, just laying there, because no one seems to remember he's here. He is an invalid. Strange word, don't you think? How can we label anyone as "invalid"? Just because he can't move he's not valid? Well, anyway...I've talked to him from time to time. When he first arrived, he was all pumped about the stirring of the waters, and for a while, whenever they moved, he would try to get in them. Really try. But, you see, one of the downsides of this "miracle" is that pretty much everyone is in it for themselves. No one would help him because they were all out for their own miracle.
So, over the course of thirty-eight years, this man quit trying. And started whining. I would still talk to him, but not as often. I got tired of him making excuses for himself. And now, he's wasted thirty-eight years of his life.
Then, He walked in. I had heard of him, of course. Pretty much everyone in Jerusalem knew of Jesus. But this was the first time I had actually seen him. He walked in and looked all around, turned and gave me an approving smile, then went directly to the invalid man. Sort of made me wonder if he came here just for that man. He didn't ask any questions about his condition. In fact, he only made one statement: "Do you want to get well?"
What a strange question. Everyone here wants to get well; that's why they are here. But, after having watched this man for thirty-eight years, I knew, more than most, that he didn't really care if he got well anymore. He had given up. In fact, that's what he told Jesus. He wouldn't even look at the rabbi; he just sort of stared toward the pool and recited his mantra: "Every time the waters are stirred, I try to get into them, but no one will help me."
That's when Jesus moved into his field of vision and said, with a voice that caused the man to look up, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk!"
There was no blinding light and no magical sound. The man simply looked up at Jesus, and then he did what Jesus said. He got up. This "invalid" man suddenly was standing. A bit shaky—after all, it had been at least thirty-eight years since he had stood—but he was standing. And walking. And smiling. I hadn't seen that smile in a long, long time. And just that quickly, the House of Mercy became a House of Joy.
Jesus came looking for him. Of that, I'm convinced. Jesus came looking for this man so that he could restore hope and joy and life to this man. I wonder what he might do for me. What might need healing in me?
I had kept track. He had been there thirty-eight years. I'm the caretaker of this pool, this place of healing, and so I know everyone who hangs out here for any length of time. And he had been here thirty-eight years.
This is a strange and holy place. We call it "Bethesda," the House of Mercy. The water is ordinary water, I can tell you that for a fact. It comes from a spring nearby, and I'm the one who wades into it every day to make sure it stays clean and presentable. But every once in a while, the waters stir. I think it's probably a bubble in the spring, but a tradition began around here that it was an angel stirring the waters. And the belief became that the first person in the water after it was stirred would be healed.
So the House of Mercy has become a place for the sick, the hurting and the dying. More than once, I've been witness to someone's death as they waited for and hoped for healing. Being a caretaker can be a sobering and difficult job.
I'm a very practical man, so it's hard for me to believe in this angel business. Oh, I believe in God, don't doubt that. I always have. God's been good to me. I'm just not sure that about this angel business. If God wanted to heal someone with these waters, why would they have to wait until some random time when the waters stirred? And why only one? Why wouldn't God heal everyone who got in? And yet...and yet, I've seen too many people healed here to be a complete cynic. I may doubt, but I do believe. God does seem to hand out mercy here, and healing. So I've not done anything to squash the legend. I just go along with it.
But, back to him. The thirty-eight year resident. He really is sort of a resident. He's able to go home when someone comes and gets him, but sometimes he stays at the pool all night, just laying there, because no one seems to remember he's here. He is an invalid. Strange word, don't you think? How can we label anyone as "invalid"? Just because he can't move he's not valid? Well, anyway...I've talked to him from time to time. When he first arrived, he was all pumped about the stirring of the waters, and for a while, whenever they moved, he would try to get in them. Really try. But, you see, one of the downsides of this "miracle" is that pretty much everyone is in it for themselves. No one would help him because they were all out for their own miracle.
So, over the course of thirty-eight years, this man quit trying. And started whining. I would still talk to him, but not as often. I got tired of him making excuses for himself. And now, he's wasted thirty-eight years of his life.
Then, He walked in. I had heard of him, of course. Pretty much everyone in Jerusalem knew of Jesus. But this was the first time I had actually seen him. He walked in and looked all around, turned and gave me an approving smile, then went directly to the invalid man. Sort of made me wonder if he came here just for that man. He didn't ask any questions about his condition. In fact, he only made one statement: "Do you want to get well?"
What a strange question. Everyone here wants to get well; that's why they are here. But, after having watched this man for thirty-eight years, I knew, more than most, that he didn't really care if he got well anymore. He had given up. In fact, that's what he told Jesus. He wouldn't even look at the rabbi; he just sort of stared toward the pool and recited his mantra: "Every time the waters are stirred, I try to get into them, but no one will help me."
That's when Jesus moved into his field of vision and said, with a voice that caused the man to look up, "Get up! Pick up your mat and walk!"
There was no blinding light and no magical sound. The man simply looked up at Jesus, and then he did what Jesus said. He got up. This "invalid" man suddenly was standing. A bit shaky—after all, it had been at least thirty-eight years since he had stood—but he was standing. And walking. And smiling. I hadn't seen that smile in a long, long time. And just that quickly, the House of Mercy became a House of Joy.
Jesus came looking for him. Of that, I'm convinced. Jesus came looking for this man so that he could restore hope and joy and life to this man. I wonder what he might do for me. What might need healing in me?
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| My daughter Rachel standing in the ruins of the Pool of Bethesda - Jerusalem Old City - June 2012 |
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