Caught by Surprise

At the invitation of Will McGarvey, a Bay Area pastor colleague who is in the West Bank with a group, I went to the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Beit Jalla on Sunday. It was a lovely service. The only English heard was Will's reading of John 5.

By now, I've grown used to following the liturgy without any expectation of hearing or understanding anything familiar. The lack of shared language means I get to sing and pray whatever I want while still in community with others. With my journal in hand, I spend the "sermon time" writing out my reflections on the passage.

John 5 begins with the story of the man who waits beside the pool of Bethesda for the waters to be stirred by an angel with the hope that he can be the first into the water and then receive the healing miracle. Lame for 38 years, he had never won that lotto ticket.  So he sat and stewed, waited and wondered if he would ever be helped. Jesus wanders by and asks him a very pointed question, "Do you want to be healed?" Instead of answering, the man blisteringly blames others for edging him out of his opportunity. Jesus tells the man to stand up, take his mat and walk. He does and is healed.

Blame plays a powerful role in our lives. We often narrate the painful parts of our stories with a large dose of "it's his fault." When we are hurt, it is difficult to perceive any other point of view beyond one that reinforces our feelings and our victimization. Please don't misunderstand me. Of course there are times when we have been truly wronged! But maturity often requires us take a step out of our emotional vortex and examine the situation from multiple points of view. This is where compassionate comprehension is often discovered. It may not excuse the behavior or attitude of another but it may provide empathetic wisdom for moving on, for healing. 

new church friends:  Salam (peace) and Marah (joy)

So how can this story apply to my current context. I'm living in a place that is under military scrutiny 24/7. Permitted access in and out of Bethlehem is through gates supervised by teenage soldiers with AK47s. Walls keep people from their families and farms. Imports and exports are regulated by the Israelis. Incursions via illegal settlements, water availability, agricultural destruction, and mobility restrictions are the common experience of the Palestinians.  


I found myself wondering, would Jesus ask the Palestinians if they wanted to be healed? Do they want to be restored to full health, as the Greek word "hygies" implies? And what would the Palestinians say? And if they did blame the Israelis, would it be untrue or wrong? Would that somehow avoid Jesus' question?  

Deep in thought, I noticed a blind women sitting a few rows ahead of me. I wondered how she responded to stories like these. I'm always a bit uncomfortable when preaching on healing stories when so many are not healed in the way the Scriptures describe. I was grateful to be distracted from the political questions but now was troubled by human suffering and God's seeming unwillingness to heal people in ways that I would like to see. I pondered this conundrum until it was time for communion. 

communion table

We all came forward around the altar, each one receiving the body and blood of Christ. This is true healing. All together, one body united in one Spirit by our one Lord. I was happy and content until a beautiful, pure, solitary voice began to sing. Then I lost it. The blind woman was singing It is Well with My Soul. Somehow, the poignancy of this song sucker-punched my soul.    

Yes, we all want to be healed.  

Wholeness comes in knowing that our lives are seen, held, understood, and loved by Christ. The lame man was entitled to his bitterness as are the Palestinians to their just cause. But our healing cannot be simply the lack of infirmity or the prevailing realization of justice. It cannot be solely the absence of bad things happening to us or the demand for a world where everyone treats everyone else with kindness and respect. These things are important and, as Christians, we are called to work for their fruition. Complete wholeness is far more than that. It comes in the form of mystic communion with God, our common experience of being compassionately urged to move forward, heal, and invite others to do the same.  

It comes in the sweet soulful song of a sightless woman who is just like me.

It is Well with My Soul
This hymn was penned in 1881 by Horatio Spafford after all his young children perished at sea while making their way to the Holy Land.  Beset by Job-like suffering, he and his wife became the founders of a radical utopian Christian community in Jerusalem called the American Colony, a hotel/restuarant I've been to several times while in Jerusalem.  

sculpture in the church courtyard

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

     Refrain:
     It is well, (it is well),
     With my soul, (with my soul)
     It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.