A sermon by Senior Minister John B. McCall, August 26, 2007
John 5:1-8
Somewhere, on a back road in New Hampshire I’m told that every year near the end of winter, a local land owner posts a sign that says “Choose your rut carefully. You’re going to be in it for a long time.” Good advice.
We all get into ruts. We have deeply ingrained, subconscious positions that we follow without thinking, without considering alternatives. Think about it: how many of us eat the same thing every Saturday night, or go to the same restaurant and order the same menu item? How many of us have a closet filled with variations on a single theme or single color (I could live the rest of my life with blue oxford cloth shirts from Penney’s and khaki Dockers slacks).
How about the favorite story or joke you tell every chance you get… week after week, year after year, until your closest friends rolls their eyes and scream? Or we can chat about the deeply ingrained habit called the Pilgrim Hymnal – 50 years old and falling apart – but sure to generate some real debate when we finally replace it with something that reflects the real world we live in.
Habits and ruts like these are generally harmless. They help us feel secure and give us a structure that frames our lives. But some ruts are unhealthy, even dangerous:
• Shall we talk about the war in Iraq and the rut we’ve chosen there?
• Or consider the dysfunction of school boards and city councils where the actors change but the dynamics never do?
• Or a family that wages its own internal war following destructive scripts.
One familiar definition of mental illness is to keep doing the same thing and expecting different results. Truth be told: these habits, these ruts, weren’t imposed on us from the outside. We chose them. Oh, sure, we have our scripts to follow – other people’s expectations, society’s demands, and the like. But we chose our ruts. Or, more precisely, we choose our ruts over and over, day after day, year in and year out.
Wait a minute, you say! What about all the ways our fates are determined by mere chance, or social class, by health or infirmity, by age or by circumstance? We certainly acknowledge that a lot of the shape of our lives comes from factors we never chose and we can’t simply ignore them. That’s all true and we need to approach every person with the respect and dignity they deserve.
The old sailor’s adage is true in daily life: you can’t change the way the wind is blowing but you can change the set of your sails. We can’t change our history, our story, but habits, behaviors, attitudes and opinions aren’t chiseled into stone. We hold on to them because they work for us – maybe in a very negative and almost perverse way – but we hold onto our habits by choice.
Where is it written that you have to be a bully as an adult just because you were a bully starting in the second grade? Where’s the rule that says you have to behave like a victim forever just because you were a victim at a crucial time? Most of us, most of the time, choose our ruts and stay with them… for a very long time. Maybe for a life time.
Let’s look at today’s Gospel reading. It describes a life-changing encounter at the Pool of Bethesda. I’ve stood there a few times – once with several of you. The pool is just inside the Sheep’s Gate, near the center of the Old City of Jerusalem just a short walk from the Temple Mount where Jesus frequently went to preach and teach.
Archaeologists have excavated down thirty or so feet to reach the ancient site because over the centuries the streets of Jerusalem were built up layer over layer. So to reach the excavated site of the old pool, you have to go down modern stairs. The stone work is stunning, likely built during the reign of Herod the Great.
The Pool, often called Bethesda or Beth-saida, measures about the size of a football field. There’s a partition across the center, dividing it in half. And there are ruins of covered walkways down the four sides and across the center, hence the name “the five arches” or porticoes. There are also porches on all sides with steps down to the pools.
The devout believed that the spirit of God would come unannounced and trouble the water from time and time. The first person to get into the pool would be healed of his or her affliction. Everyone else was out of luck. It was a long shot. There wasn’t a triage nurse who’d decide on the urgency of one patient’s needs over another, like a modern emergency room.
The sick and infirm came and waited. Scripture doesn’t say how many might have gathered there but there was room for hundreds. John tells us that Jesus went out on the Sabbath and visited there, surrounded by people who were blind, lame, paralyzed. He stepped close to one — a man who’d been ill for 38 years, and presumably had been coming to that same spot for all that time.
Jesus’ first words sound almost harsh: “do you want to be made well?” Well, yeah – who wouldn’t? Good question.
I’m no psychologist but I’ve got a pretty good understanding of human nature… especially other people’s human nature! I know I can look at someone’s life from my perspective and see pretty quickly what the hang-ups are. And I know I’ve asked many people the question: “So do you want it to be different?” assuming they’d answer “Yes, absolutely, I’d do anything, give anything to get out of this rut.”
But that’s not always the answer. So Jesus’ said to the man by the pool: “You’ve been coming here 38 years, apparently to get healed, but you’ve never gotten into the pool in time? What else is going on? Do you really WANT to be cured? Life isn’t comfortable for you, but it’s sure secure and predictable. Getting healed means huge changes. Are you ready?”
The man explained the reason he’d been stuck for 38 years: whenever the pool was stirred, someone else reached it first, because he had no one there to help him. Now there was someone to help him. “Pick up your mat and walk!” commanded Jesus. And the man did.
I don’t know whether the tradition was true – that the stirring waters had the power to heal people. But I’m sure this man was healed. He was healed by God’s love that was carried to him in Jesus’ compassion. This Jesus whom we call Teacher and Savior was the channel for God’s healing touch. The man threw away his crutches, picked up his mat and walked into the city to show everyone he was healed. That’s what Gospel says.
So, does this story connect with you?
• Do you pray for physical healing of some disease, some affliction? Have you, for years, sought a cure and found none?
• Do you live with daily despair because you’ve lost any feelings of hope and joy, and don’t even have a reason to get up in the morning?
• Do you carry emotional bruises or scars from times in life that have left you ragged?
• Have you long been in a relationship that feels empty, even hurtful? Are you scared to stay and scared to go, and just don’t know what to do?
Before anything else can happen you have to answer Jesus’ question “do you really want it to be different?” Are you willing to risk the security that comes from the predictable and reliable situation, no matter how tough it sometimes seems?
How long have you said you’re ready for change but, in truth, have lain in one spot so long that you can’t imagine life being much different? Changes – even changes for the better – can hurt in the short run. So we may stay in the rut. Ask a woman trying to leave an abusive marriage. Ask someone with an addiction who wants to get on the wagon. Ask someone who’s gone to a chiropractor to get some joints popped, and who finds the pain is worse for a while after everything’s back in alignment.
Nothing changes until we’ve first chosen to take a risk. And when we decide to break loose we often feel a sense of panic because none of the old supports and systems are there. When we take that chance it may hurt for a while. But remember the wisdom of Helen Keller, a great study in courage and faith. She said:
Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do children as a whole, experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or it is nothing.
We’re not gathered here to make judgments about anyone else’s life. That’s not up to us. I’m not suggesting that caution is always wrong or risk-taking is always right. There’s a time for each. And our insurance carrier insists wants me to be clear: I’m not suggesting you start rock-climbing this afternoon!
But certainly spirit prompts us at various times to ask ourselves if we’re stuck, why we’re stuck. Jesus promised abundant life to those who would open their hearts to the spirit, and open their lives to a new way of being. He healed each one, calling them to pick up their mats and walk with him.
So he asks each of us: “Do you really want to be made well?”
Scripture – and life – remind us that our bodies may get old and achy but our spirits don’t have to. We get in ruts, but our souls are free to live in fresh and lively ways… risking, stretching, and reaching out.
If you’ve been wrestling with ruts and haunted by habits – pay attention to this simple and powerful story. Change is possible; new life is waiting. Spirit invites you. But first you’ll need to answer the essential question: do you want to be healed? And can you trust God enough that you’ll let yourself imagine another way, another path, another possibility?
Whatever you’ve been carrying, I’m betting you can imagine how it would feel if Jesus reached out his hand and said to you – “stand up – pick up your mat, and walk with me.”