Rev. Tom Sorenson, Pastor
May 16, 2004

Scripture:

Let us pray: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

I know that it’s dangerous to express any kind of generalities about people. People are so diverse, our personal stories and our life circumstances are so varied, that it is virtually impossible to say anything that is true of anyone. That being said, I’m now going to violate my own rule against making blanket statements about all people. It is safe to say, I think, that everybody needs healing. Oh, there may be physically healthy infants who don’t need much healing; but anyone who has reached the age of self-consciousness, at least, is certainly in need of at least some healing. For many, probably most of us, we need some kind of physical healing. I of course don’t know all the kinds of physical healing that each of you may need. I know that I have several physical conditions that could use a good deal of healing. Even when we’re very young we may suffer from a variety of physical ailments that need healing. As we age, most of us experience more and more health problems. As they say, growing old is not for the faint of heart. Physical infirmities are simply part of the human condition.

There is, however, another kind of healing that most if not all of us need. I certainly know that I do. As much as we may need physical healing, we need, I believe, psychic healing even more. You see, most of us have physical ailments, but most if not all of us have spiritual ailments as well. We are spiritually, psychically incomplete. Our souls are not well. We sometimes sing a wonderful song here that has the beautiful refrain: "It is well, it is well with my soul." Yet I know that all is not well with my soul; and I know I’m far from unique in that regard. Now, I know that some of you are saying: "What’s he talking about? There’s nothing wrong with my soul. I may have the gout and heart palpitations from time to time, but there’s nothing wrong with my soul!" And maybe you’re right. Maybe you don’t need spiritual healing; but hear me out for just a minute and see if any of this rings true with you.

One way to look at the sickness of our souls is through a metaphor that Marcus Borg uses extensively in his book The Heart of Christianity. It is the metaphor of the "closed heart." To understand the closed heart, we must first hear what Borg means by heart. He uses it in the Biblical sense. In the Bible the heart, Borg says, is "a comprehensive metaphor for the self." It is "a metaphor for the inner self as a whole." It is "the spiritual center of the total self." In the Bible’s view of our human nature, our fundamental problem as humans is seen to be that we have closed hearts. God wants to open our hearts, but for the most part we keep them tightly closed.

Many of you are no doubt now thinking: "Now what’s he talking about. My heart is open, or at least I think it is. He must be talking about someone else." Well, maybe; but listen to some of Borg’s list of the things that the Bible says go with a closed heart and see if you recognize yourself in any of it. Borg’s list, with some comments of my own along the way, of the things the Bible says go with a closed heart includes:

Maybe you still don’t recognize a closed heart in yourself. If not, try listening to this statement by Borg:
I know that my heart is closed whenever I feel grumpy or self-preoccupied, when the world looks ordinary, or when the critical voice is strong in my head, whether directed at myself or others. When I stand in a supermarket checkout line and all the people I see look kind of ugly, I know that my heart is closed.
That one sure echoes in my soul, but let me tell you main way that I know that much of the time I suffer from a closed heart. An open heart is a heart at peace. An open heart is a heart that knows itself at home and at peace in that great, mysterious ocean of quiet and comfort that we call God. An open heart is at peace because it knows that all of the Sturm und Drang, and of the conflict and tension of this world, all of the things that we think are so important, to which we are so attached, whether they be political or religious positions, our place in society, our material well-being, the conflicts on which the world expends so much blood and so much treasure, all of these things do not distress the open heart. The open heart is at peace because it has let go of its emotional attachment to all of these things. The open heart takes a stand for justice and for peace because it knows that those are God’s will for all of us, but it takes that stand in peace because it knows that God’s peace transcends even the demands of justice and of peace. The open heart rests in God. The open heart is whole there, and the paltry demands and cares of the world cannot disturb it. It knows that they are not ultimate reality. God is ultimate reality, and God is peace, quiet, stillness, silence, eternal rest.

Now, which of these portraits sounds more like you? The person who is grumpy, self-preoccupied, critical, judgmental, and thinks everyone else at the supermarket is ugly? Or the person at peace, the person at rest in the quiet bosom of cosmic transcendence, where the cares of the world cannot reach and the pain of the world cannot disturb? I don’t know about you, but just about all of the time, I’m that first person, the angry, tense, judgmental person, and not the second one, the person of cosmic peace. Most of the time, my heart is closed.

That means that most of the time I need the healing that Jesus Christ can bring. I need it physically, but I need it even more psychically, spiritually, in my soul. Jesus was, perhaps above all else, a healer. We know that about him as an historical fact perhaps better than we know anything else about him as an historical fact. The Gospels tell more healing stories about him than any other kind. Our Gospel lesson this morning is one of them. It’s the story of a miraculous pool at one of the gates into Jerusalem. In the translation I read it’s called Bethazda, but it is also called Bethsaida or Bethesda, the last being a name familiar to us as a city in Maryland where Walter Reed Army Hospital, a famous place of healing, is located. The waters of the pool have healing power; but in our story this morning there is a man who cannot get into the pool because of his disability and because other people keep crowding in ahead of him. Although in the story the pool is a symbol of spiritual healing, Jesus heals the man who can’t get into the pool. I take it from that healing that Jesus wants us all to come to the pool of healing, and to be healed there. When the pool itself is not available to us, that is, when we can’t take steps ourselves that lead to our healing, Jesus steps and in and takes those steps for us. Jesus heals us. Jesus becomes the pool of healing, the pool we can always come to in times of need.

Jesus, our way to God, can make us whole. Although I have not myself experienced so-called faith healing of physical ailments in a way that I consider credible, I do not doubt that it happens. Seemingly miraculous healings are reported from virtually every culture and every faith tradition that we know of. I don’t dismiss faith healing simply because I haven’t seen it or because it contradicts all of my Western, rationalistic notions of how things are supposed to work. Physical healing is possible. Jesus can do it. But it is even more true that Jesus offers us spiritual healing. Jesus is our pathway to God. By connecting with Jesus we gain access to God, who is ultimate wellness, wholeness, and peace. By connecting with God in and through Jesus Christ our spirits are made well. We connect with God in and through Jesus Christ in prayer, in an attitude of acceptance and openness to what God the Ultimate Spirit has to offer us, through worship and in the sacraments, through personal devotions and study of Scripture. We do it by immersing ourselves ever more deeply into the Christian tradition, living our lives in that tradition, and letting our tradition work its transforming magic in our hearts. When we do that, Jesus becomes our Pool of Bethesda just as He did for the man in this morning’s story. There, in the eternal arms of grace, we find wholeness and peace. So: Everybody into the pool! Health and wholeness await us there. Amen.