Homilies on John, Homily 37

“Jesus says to him, Do you want to be made well? The disabled man answered Him, Yes, Sir, but I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred.” [1.] The divine Scriptures are very beneficial, and the help they provide meets every need. Paul declared this when he said, “Whatever was written before was written before for our instruction, on whom the ends of the world have come, so that through patience and the comfort of the Scriptures we might have hope.” ( Rom. xv. 4, 1 Cor. x. 11.) For the divine words are a treasury of every kind of medicine. Whether we need to quench pride, lull desire to sleep, trample the love of money underfoot, despise pain, inspire confidence, or gain patience, we can find abundant resources in them. For who among those struggling with prolonged poverty or nailed to a painful disease will not receive great comfort when reading the passage before us? This man had been paralyzed for thirty-eight years and saw others freed each year while he remained bound by his disease. Even so, he did not give up and despair, although not only discouragement over the past but also hopelessness about the future was enough to overwhelm him. Now listen to what he says, and learn how great his sufferings were. When Christ said, “Do you want to be made well?” he said, “Yes, Lord, but I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred.” What could be more pitiful than these words? What could be sadder than these circumstances? Do you see a heart crushed by long illness? Do you see how all his anger has been subdued? He spoke no blasphemous word, nor anything like what we hear so many people say in misfortune. He did not curse the day of his birth or get angry at the question. He did not say, “Have You come to mock us and make fun of us, asking whether I want to be made well?” Instead, he answered gently and very calmly, “Yes, Lord.” Yet he did not know who was asking him or that He would heal him. Still, he calmly describes all the circumstances and asks for nothing more, as though he were speaking to a doctor and wanted only to tell the story of his sufferings. Perhaps he hoped Christ might help him at least by putting him into the water, and wanted to draw Him to his side with these words. What, then, does Jesus say? Ver. 8. “Get up, pick up your bed, and walk.” Now some suppose this is the man in Matthew who was “lying on a bed” ( Matt. ix. 2 ); but it is not, as many things make clear. First, he had no one to step forward for him. That man had many people to care for him and carry him; this man had no one at all. That is why he said, “I have no one.” Second, their answers differ: the other man said nothing, while this man describes his whole situation. Third, the occasion and the day differ: this man was healed at a feast and on the Sabbath, while the other was healed on a different day. The places were different too: one was healed in a house, the other by the pool. The way they were healed also differed. There Christ said, “Your sins are forgiven,” but here He first strengthened the body and then cared for the soul. In that case there was forgiveness of sins (for He says, “Your sins are forgiven”), but in this case there were warnings and threats to strengthen the man for the future: “Sin no more, or something worse may happen to you.” ( Ver. 14.) The Jews’ accusations also differ: here they object to Jesus working on the Sabbath; there they accuse Him of blasphemy. Now consider, I ask you, God’s extraordinary wisdom. He did not raise the man up immediately, but first put him at ease by asking a question, preparing the way for the faith that would follow. Nor does He merely raise him up; He tells him to “pick up his bed,” to confirm the miracle that had taken place and keep anyone from supposing that what happened was an illusion or a performance. For unless his limbs had been firmly and thoroughly knit together, he could not have carried his bed. Christ often does this, effectively silencing those who want to behave insolently. So in the case of the loaves, to keep anyone from claiming that the men had merely felt satisfied and that what happened was an illusion, He made sure there were many pieces of bread left over. So He said to the leper who had been cleansed, “Go, show yourself to the priest” ( Matt. viii. 4 ), both providing the most certain proof of his cleansing and shutting the shameless mouths of those who claimed He was making laws in opposition to God. He did the same thing with the wine. He did not merely show it to them but had it carried to the master of the feast, so that someone who knew nothing of what had happened could, by his own acknowledgment, give testimony about Him that no one could suspect of bias. That is why the Evangelist says that the master of the feast “did not know where it came from,” showing the impartiality of his testimony. And elsewhere, when He raised the dead, He said, “Give him something to eat,” providing this proof of a real resurrection. By these means He convinced even the foolish that He was no deceiver, no conjurer of illusions, but had come to save the human nature we all share. [2.] But why did Jesus not require faith from this man, as He did from others, saying, “Do you believe that I am able to do this?” Because the man did not yet clearly know who He was. And we see Him doing this after He works miracles, not before. It was reasonable to say this to people who had seen His power at work in others, while faith is required after the miracles from those who had not yet learned who He was but would come to know through signs. That is why Matthew does not present Christ as saying this at the beginning of His miracles, but only to the two blind men, after He had healed many. Still, notice the paralyzed man’s faith in this respect. When he heard, “Pick up your bed and walk,” he did not scoff or say, “What can this mean? An Angel comes down and stirs the water and heals only one person, and do You, a man, hope to do greater things than Angels with just a command and a word? This is nothing but vanity, boasting, and mockery.” He neither said nor imagined anything like this. Instead, as soon as he heard, he got up, and once he was well, he obeyed the One who gave the command. For immediately he was made well and “picked up his bed and walked.” What followed was even more admirable. That he believed at first, when no one was bothering him, was not so remarkable. But afterward, when the Jews were furious and pressed him on every side, accusing him, surrounding him, and saying, “It is not lawful for you to pick up your bed,” he paid no attention to their madness. Instead, he boldly proclaimed his Benefactor in the middle of the gathering and silenced their shameless tongues. This, I say, was an act of great courage. For when the Jews rose against him and said to him with reproach and insolence, Ver. 10. “It is the Sabbath day; it is not lawful for you to carry your bed,” listen to what he says: Ver. 11. “The very One who made me well told me, Pick up your bed and walk.” He was practically saying, “You are foolish and mad to tell me not to accept as my Teacher the One who has freed me from a long and painful illness, and not to obey whatever He commands.” If he had chosen to act dishonestly, he could have spoken differently, like this: “I am not doing this by my own choice, but at someone else’s command. If there is any blame in this, blame the one who gave the order, and I will put down the bed.” He could also have concealed his healing, for he knew very well that they were upset less by the breaking of the Sabbath than by the healing of his disability. Yet he neither concealed the one nor said the other, nor did he ask to be pardoned. Instead, he loudly acknowledged and proclaimed the benefit he had received. This is how the paralyzed man acted; now consider how unfairly they acted. They did not say, “Who made you well?” They were silent about that and kept bringing up the apparent violation. Ver. 12, 13. “Who is the man who said to you, Pick up your bed and walk? And the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had slipped away, since there was a crowd in that place.” And why did Jesus conceal Himself? First, so that in His absence the man’s testimony would be free from suspicion, for the man who now felt himself well was a credible witness to the benefit he had received. Next, so that He would not inflame the Jews’ fury even more, for the mere sight of someone they envy tends to kindle quite a spark in malicious people. That is why He withdrew and left the deed itself to plead its case among them. He would say nothing about Himself in person; instead, those who had been healed would speak, and so would His accusers. Even these last testify to the miracle for a time, for they did not say, “Why have You commanded these things to be done on the Sabbath day?” but, “Why do You do these things on the Sabbath day?” They were not upset by the violation but envious of the paralyzed man’s recovery. Yet in terms of human labor, what the paralyzed man did was more properly an act of work, for what Jesus did was simply to speak a word. Here, then, He commands someone else to break the Sabbath, but elsewhere He does the same Himself, mixing clay and spreading it on a man’s eyes ( c. 9 ). Yet He does these things by going beyond the Law, without violating it. We will speak about this later. For when the Jews accuse Him over the Sabbath, He does not always defend Himself in the same terms, and we must pay careful attention to this. [3.] But let us consider for a while how great an evil envy is, and how it blinds the eyes of the soul, endangering the salvation of the person it possesses. Just as madmen often plunge their swords into their own bodies, malicious people focus on only one thing—harming the person they envy—and disregard their own salvation. Such people are worse than wild beasts. Beasts attack us when they need food or when we have provoked them first, but these people, after receiving kindness, have often repaid their benefactors as though they had wronged them. They are worse than wild beasts, like the devils, or perhaps even worse than they are. For although the devils are constantly hostile toward us, they do not plot against those who share their own nature (and Jesus used this to silence the Jews when they said He cast out devils by Beelzebub). But these people neither respect their shared nature nor spare themselves. Before they torment those they envy, they torment their own souls, filling them with every kind of distress and discouragement, fruitlessly and in vain. Why do you grieve over your neighbor’s prosperity, you there? We should grieve over the evils we suffer, not because we see others held in high regard. That is why this sin has no excuse. The person who commits sexual immorality may plead his lust, the thief his poverty, the murderer his anger. These are weak and unreasonable excuses, but they still have them to offer. But what reason, tell me, will you give? None at all except intense wickedness. If we are commanded to love our enemies, what punishment will we suffer if we hate our very friends? And if someone who loves those who love him will be no better off than pagans, what excuse, what defense can someone have who harms people who have done him no wrong? Listen to what Paul says: “Though I give my body to be burned, and have no love, it does me no good” ( 1 Cor. xiii. 3 ). Now everyone can see that where envy and malice are, love is absent. This feeling is worse than sexual immorality and adultery, for those go no further than the person committing them, but the tyranny of envy has overthrown entire Churches and destroyed the whole world. Envy is the mother of murder. Through it Cain killed his brother Abel; through it Esau (would have slain) Jacob, and Joseph’s brothers Joseph; through it the devil killed all mankind. You may not kill now, but you do many things worse than murder: wishing your brother would behave shamefully, setting traps for him on every side, crippling his efforts toward virtue, grieving because he pleases the Master of the world. Yet you are not at war with your brother, but with the One he serves. You insult Him when you put your own glory before His. And what is truly worst of all is that this sin seems unimportant, though in fact it is more serious than any other. For even if you show mercy, keep vigil, and fast, you are more accursed than anyone if you envy your brother. This is also clear from the following case. A man among the Corinthians once committed adultery, yet he was confronted with his sin and soon restored to righteousness. Cain envied Abel, but he was not healed. Although God Himself continually tried to soothe the wound, he became more distressed and storm-tossed, and was swept on to murder. So this passion is worse than the other and does not readily allow itself to be cured unless we pay close attention. Let us, then, do everything we can to tear it out by the roots, remembering that just as we offend God when we waste away with envy over other people’s blessings, we please Him when we rejoice with them, and give ourselves a share in the good things stored up for the righteous. That is why Paul urges us to “Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep” ( Rom. xii. 15 ), so that in either case we may gain great benefit. Remember, then, that even when we do not labor, we share in the crown of the person who does by rejoicing with him. Let us put aside all envy and plant love in our souls, so that by applauding those among our brothers who please God, we may obtain both present and future good things, through the grace and loving kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom, to the Father and the Holy Spirit, be glory, now and always, forever and ever. Amen.