NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
After this there was a feast of the Jews; and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now there is at Jerusalem, by the sheep-market, a pool which is called in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda, having five porches. In these lay a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind, halt, withered, waiting for the moving of the water. For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool and troubled the water; whosoever, then, first after the troubling of the water stepped in was made whole of whatsoever disease he had. And a certain man was there which had an infirmity thirty and eight years. When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now a long time in that case, he saith unto him, Wilt thou be made whole? The impotent man answered him, Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool; but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me. Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk. And immediately the man was made whole, and took up his bed, and walked: and on the same day was the Sabbath.—John 5, 1-9.
After this there was a feast of the Jews; and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. Now there is at Jerusalem, by the sheep-market, a pool which is called in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda, having five porches. In these lay a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind, halt, withered, waiting for the moving of the water. For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool and troubled the water; whosoever, then, first after the troubling of the water stepped in was made whole of whatsoever disease he had. And a certain man was there which had an infirmity thirty and eight years. When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now a long time in that case, he saith unto him, Wilt thou be made whole? The impotent man answered him, Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool; but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me. Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk. And immediately the man was made whole, and took up his bed, and walked: and on the same day was the Sabbath.—John 5, 1-9.
The most serious charge that can be placed against mankind is this, that when the Gospel is proclaimed to them, that Gospel is rejected, that when pardon and salvation of God is offered, that offer is coldly and indifferently turned aside. We are sometimes surprised at this. We ought not to be. The same coldness and indifference was manifested years ago. It says: "Christ came into His own, and His own received Him not." To-day's Gospel records to us the cure of the paralytic. It was a most remarkable and convincing evidence that He who could bring to His feet this debilitated and disabled man was indeed the Messiah, the Savior of the world. But no; it started a wrangling among His enemies about the power of forgiveness of sin, and caused Him to be haunted with hatred and malice. And as aparallel passage to that Gospel miracle is the record here in the fifth chapter of St. John, part of which we have just heard. Let us notice now,I. the history of the miracle;II. the instruction it imparts.
"After this," says the Evangelist, that is, after Jesus had conversed with the woman of Samaria at Jacob's well, and after He had healed the nobleman's son who was lying sick at Capernaum, "there was a feast of the Jews." The feast, it is generally supposed, was the Passover. And "Jesus went up," out of Galilee into Judea, "to Jerusalem." He went thither not only that He might pay all due regard to the Temple and to the Law, but also that He might have an opportunity of manifesting Himself and His doctrine to a greater number of people. "Now," says the next verse, "there is at Jerusalem by the sheep-market," or sheep-gate, a "pool," or a bath, the ordinary purpose of which was for bathing or swimming, but on account of the supernatural character of the water was called Bethesda, that is, the House, or Place, of Mercy. Around this pool, or bath, were built five porches, porticos, or verandas, which served to shelter from the heat and the cold those who frequented the place. In these porches "there lay a great multitude of impotent folk;" some of them were "blind," some "halt" (or lame), and others were "withered," that is, their sinews and muscles were disabled, withered in one particular part of the body, as the man with the withered hand, or all over, as in the case of the paralytic, whose friends had to bear him on a litter. These patients, at least most of them, were probably deemed incurable by ordinary methods, and therefore they were carried to Bethesda to wait and hope for a miraculous recovery there; for it pleased God (in order to show that He had not forsaken His chosen people, but was operating among them) to send "an angel" who went down at certain seasons into the pool and "troubled the water," by which troubling of it, and by the extraordinary motion that followed, the sick were informed of the time of the angel's descent, and, "whosoever then first, after the troubling of the water, stepped in" was instantly healed, while those who bathed afterwards obtained no relief. All sorts of opinions have been advanced as to this healing spring. That it was not the natural virtue, as in the case of mineral springs in this country, that wrought the cure, is evident from the circumstance that not one disease, but all manners of disease were healed by it; that thesecures were performed not always, but only at the seasons appointed by God, and that not all who stepped in, butoneonly was healed after the troubling of the water. What became of this fountain we are not told; very likely its miraculous properties did not continue for many years. In the porches around this pool was an impotent man; he had labored under a bodily infirmity for thirty and eight years. How long he had waited at the pool we know not, but certainly for a considerable period. But it was hoping against hope. The man was so utterly helpless that even if he saw the water disturbed, whilst he was slowly dragging himself along, another stepped in before him. When Jesus, therefore, passed by and saw him in this helpless condition, and knowing his past history, He asked him, "Wilt thou be made whole?" The man does not even give direct answer, but narrates the story of his long and futile expectation, whereupon Jesus gives this command: "Rise, take up thy bed and walk," when instantly, easily, as if the withered limbs had been thrilled with electric sparks, the man arises, takes up his bed, and walks away. Such is the history of the miracle; and now let us regard some of the instructions it imparts.
Our interest is naturally divided between the man who had lain sick such a number of years, the pool, and the cure. And, surely, a long and wearisome time he had had of it,—thirty and eight years. The woman with the issue of blood who touched the hem of our Savior's garment, had borne her affliction twelve years, but that was scarcely one-third as long, and she was still able to be up and about. As then, so now. The number of those who lie on pallets and are bent low with sickness is larger than superficiality credits; in fact, those who have never been racked with pain, distressed with fever, are few and far between. How many ever give thought as to this providential dealing—have stopped to ask whence it comes, or what profit and lessons may be in it? It has been remarked by a famous writer that there are two chapters of human history that shall never be read upon the earth; the one chapter is the chapter of the dying. The feelings and emotions, the inexpressible thoughts and sensations that pass through the soul when the things of this world fade upon the senses, and the doors of eternity are about to swing open, is an experience which no human tongue or pen can describe, is something which none but ourselves can discover. And another chapter is the chapter of the sick and theailing, as it is written in quietness within the narrow space of a couch and four walls, alternating perhaps with the operating table and passing through the dark valley of the Shadow of Death. And yet, something of this chapter may still be read, and most remarkable, significant, and ofttimes blessed things are experienced in the sickroom. Who dare say that the world in its present condition would be what it still is without this check, this intruder upon the affairs of life? Most men are inclined to regard sickness as a calamity, as a positive misfortune, a smiting scourge. It is not that. It has blessings both to the one afflicted and to those around him. Sickness may contribute to the development of the noblest qualities of the mind and heart. In the rush and tug of life men are too much inclined to concern themselves with the affairs of this life, to lose sight of the greater value of the unseen and eternal. Put such a one from the excitement of business and the frivolity of this world's fashions and pleasures prostrate upon his back with the hot fingers of disease clutching for his vitals or the sharp pains striking upon the heartstrings, and he must be thoughtless, even base, whose appreciation of the merely earthly things does not fall, and who does not learn that with all his boasted strength and all that he has and hopes for, he is only a pilgrim and stranger on this earth, and that there is something more worthy than what is seen and temporal. Oh! the quiet reflections of a sickbed. Many a man is indebted to them for a revelation which has been the wisdom and power of God unto his salvation when the message of Church and its servant had but very little effect. The parched lips of disease are often more eloquent and effective than man's lips. And he that fails of this salutary end of affliction, does not come forth a better person, more devoted and consecrated to his God, has missed the purpose for which it was sent, and gone out of the way of the Almighty. Of this man in the text we may have the assurance that the experience of thirty-eight years remained indelibly upon his mind and enrolled him among the faithful disciples of Christ. May it serve likewise in your case, my dear hearer, at the sickbed of many of whom I have had occasion and may yet be called to minister. And not only for the person afflicted, but for those attending and affected by the affliction, sickness is a blessing, a positive messenger of good and mercy. It is when disease has broken in upon their habitation that many a man has first learned toappreciate the kindly ministry of his life's partner; has keenly felt what this world would be like should death part them asunder, and the hearts sometimes estranged have again become reconciled and determined to bear and forbear. It is when the little cheek is hard pressed against the feverish and aching pillow that we feel how intensely we love that boy and girl and would sacrifice everything else dear to us to keep them. Yes, there is nothing in human experience to bring into larger and better exercise our common love and sympathy and to show that there is still some nobility, kindness, and pity in our shattered humanity than in the care and memories that cluster around the sickbed. Would to God that these experiences touching the hearts that perhaps for long time were dead would be of longer duration, for commonly they are so quickly forgotten and so easily erased from the mind.
So much as to the first suggestion—the man's sickness. The place where he was lying was called Bethesda, which means House of Mercy. Nor need I inform you which is the true Bethesda, the House of Mercy, provided for the cure of those souls who are spiritually halt, blind, withered, and weak. That's the Church of Jesus Christ, and in that place there was a pool, as we heard, endowed with miraculous properties, greatly valued, thronged about by patients. To that pool we have in our Bethesda an exact and superior counterpart, a blessed fountain from which issues the stream of health and salvation upon the sinful and diseased race of man, a water allied not only with the contact of an angel, but with the presence of the Savior Himself. You know of what water I am speaking, you yourselves have been committed into this salutary flood. It is the Sacrament of Holy Baptism. It might be well to speak a few words on the subject. What Bethesda's part was for the body, that, my beloved, is Holy Baptism to the soul. It was a means of restoration and recovery, it gave health back to the limbs and frame. So does Baptism. "Arise, and be baptized, and wash away thy sins," said Ananias to Saul. "A washing of regeneration and renewing of the Holy Ghost," says Paul. "It works forgiveness of sins, delivers from death and the devil, and gives eternal salvation," says Luther. Baptism is the means by which the Holy Ghost operates in a soul, the outward washing which you see with your eyes is a type of the washing which God's power affects invisibly. We speak of Baptism in our church not onlyas a rite, a ceremony, a form of initiation, but as a means of grace, as a means of salvation, by which we are christened, that is, made Christians. To elucidate. Outside of our city there are enormous reservoirs holding millions of tons of water, and we daily see vast tanks holding thousands of cubic feet of gas. But all of these would be useless unless pipes are laid to convey their currents. Lay those pipes, and you have the means of securing water in your homes and light in your dwellings. So the Sacraments, of which Baptism is one, are means by which God's blessings are brought to our souls. It's not an idle ceremony which one can dispense with at liberty, nor is it something which people can wait with till they are old enough to be taught the Christian faith and to understand it; as well might they dispense with the supply of water and illumination, or wait until they themselves can lay the pipes. No; God has given us the means, now we must use them, and use them as early as possible. If this man had spoken as disparagingly of the pool of Bethesda as some people speak of Baptism, and had in consequence kept away from its waters, he would not have met with Christ, and would have remained a cripple all his days. It is for us to use God's means, and to hold with the Scripture that no man is a Christian until he has been baptized. Of course, there is this difference between the impotent man in the Gospel and some in our community. Hecouldnot enter the healing water, theywillnot. They lie by the side of Bethesda, but, not believing in the healing waters, are never benefited as to their own souls.
There are many objections made against Baptism. To repeat and publicly set aright one objection sometimes met with in our circles: What good does Baptism do? See how many children turn out bad afterwards notwithstanding. What good does it do? I answer: The same good that it does if you had water and illumination connection, and then cut it off. No good; on the contrary, if, having been made God's children, Christians, in Baptism, we afterwards live as heathen, so much the worse the sin as our Savior particularly warns this man who was healed. "Behold, thou art made whole; sin no more, lest a worse thing come upon thee." But had the man nevertheless gone back to his sinful life, would that have made the healing of no account? And so the fact that people once baptized live in sin does not make Baptism of no account. Marriage is not a failure because some who have married have proved failures. When a manenlists in the army, the form of enlistment makes him a soldier, but not necessarily a good soldier; he may prove to be a coward and traitor, but it put him in a position to lead a brave and useful life and to win honor and glory; if he chooses otherwise, it is his own fault. So in baptism we are made Christians, but it is our own fault if we afterwards turn out bad Christians. Baptism is the beginning, the means, not the end. We are put on the right road, we are made God's children, citizens of His kingdom of heaven. It is our own fault, not the Sacrament, if we develop into prodigals, wander out of the right road, prove cowardly soldiers and bad citizens.
As to the third suggestion made, the cure, let us briefly note that the condition of that poor paralytic is the perfect emblem of our human nature, of ourselves without Christ. As he was diseased and helpless in body, so are we all diseased and helpless in soul. To a miracle of grace he owed his recovery; and where he found his cure, we must find ours. He stands before us this very moment again, that omnipotent Son of God, that compassionate Savior, and asks, "Wilt thou be made whole?" Wilt thou receive the absolution of thy God, the forgiveness of thy sins, through the mediation of my suffering and death? Nothing else can remove the palsy of our nature, nothing else can give health and soundness.—Let us, then, who feel our malady and wish it removed, answer, Yes, Lord, I will be whole.
Jesus, give me true repentanceBy Thy Spirit come from heaven.Whisper this transporting sentence,"Son, thy sins are all forgiven."Amen.
Jesus, give me true repentanceBy Thy Spirit come from heaven.Whisper this transporting sentence,"Son, thy sins are all forgiven."
Amen.