Saved on the Sabbath

[Journey with Jesus – Day 7]

At first I didn’t realise what day it was. Every day had blended into another, at least for the past nearly four decades, since I had my fall. I was a mere boy at the time – tried climbing one of the walls under construction – on the temple mount area, misjudged it and fell. The pain was unbelivavble, but nothing compared to the mental agony once I realised I wouldn’t be able to move again. I was told I was lucky to survive, but honestly I wished that I hadn’t – each day thereafter had felt like a living death. Since that day the routine was the same. My parents at first and then other neighbours carried me to Bethesda pool by the Sheep Gate. The waters of this pool became known for their healing properties. If only someone was able to be immersed in that water they would be healed – that was the hope, anyway. My problem was that once I was there I was stuck – I was unable to get myself into the water and there was no one there to help me. I would look hopefully at every able bodied person who came my way and some took pity on me enough to give me food, but no one was there to carry me into the water. I was resigned to this life. Every day had been the same for years and would continue to be so.

But then, one day, I noticed someone gazing at me.

“How long have you been here?” he asked.

“I’ve lost count, but I reckon thirty-eight years.”

He seemed to exhale in surprise. “Wow, that’s a long time. I wonder, do you want to get well?”

At last, I thought, this was someone who might be willing to get me into the water. “Of course I do, sir,” I protested, “But when the water is stirred, I don’t have anybody to put me in the pool. By the time I get there someone is already in.”

Then the man told me, “The waters won’t do you any good at all. But I can. I tell you. Get up, take your bedroll, start walking.” Simple as that. On one level, I was thinking, the chance would be a fine thing, but at the same time, I felt an extraordinary sensation in my body – warmth was spreading through those parts of me that had long lost all sensation. I knew immediately that I was able to do what he had told me and what I hadn’t dreamt of doing for decades. I just picked up my mat and walked around – no, I jumped and skipped around! I was so thrilled – and I couldn’t wait to be out of that place which was a place for those who are sick – and I wasn’t any more.

As I was dancing out, I was accosted by some Jewish teachers – I could tell they were religious from their garb – and they looked cross, “What are you doing? Don’t you know that today is a Sabbath? You can’t simply carry your bedroll around – it’s against the rules.”

I was nonplussed, I had no idea what day it is. I simply spluttered, “The man who made me well told me to pick it up. He said, ‘Take your bedroll and start walking.’”

Well, they looked even more furious now. I wondered what I had said. Their questioning became sharper, angrier. “Who gave you the order to take it up and start walking?”

I realised then that I had no idea – I’d been so overwhelmed by the fact I could walk that I had forgotten to see who had made it possible. I looked around and could see no sign of him – he had clearly slipped away into the crowd. Very wise, I thought. I shrugged, “I’m very sorry, I can’t tell you that – he’s gone – and I don’t know his name.”

They shook their heads, looked as though they were going to interrogate me further, but could tell I was telling the truth, so stalked off walking.

Well, I was so full of joy that I wanted to worship God, and made my way the short distance to the temple. There, a familiar voice spoke to me, “Well, you look wonderful! You’re well!” I looked and it was him – this beaming man who was the reason I was healed. “Don’t return to a sinning life or something worse might happen.” he warned. I think I know what he meant – there are worse things than paralysis of the body; our spirits can be imprisoned too. I had been both – imprisoned by hopelessness, bitterness, and self-pity. But now I walked free in more ways than one.

And I realised who he was. Jesus of Nazareth. So much had been said about this man who could heal and teach the most incredible things. Then I did something I will always regret. In my excitement, and yes, fear, I went back and told the Jewish leaders that it was Jesus who had made him well. I didn’t intend what then happened from that moment – this man, who had done such good, found himself with a target on his back – the Jewish teachers were out to get Jesus — they were so outraged, because all of this had happened on the Sabbath. A group surrounded him in the courts and challenged him. When they did so, I heard Jesus defending himself. “My Father is working straight through, even on the Sabbath. So am I.” At this, they almost hissed and the tone changed. They looked so angry. They didn’t want to challenge him, they wanted to get rid of him altogether. Not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was calling God his own Father, putting himself on a level with God.

I was mystified and appalled. How could someone who had brought such life be deserving of such treatment? He saved me, I have new life because of him. Who else could do such a thing? If he’s not who he says he is, then who is he?