10. In Jerusalem. The Healing of the Paralytic at the Sheep Pool. Conflict With the Pharisees Over the Disciples Plucking Grain on the Sabbath. The Healing of the Man With a Withered Hand

Since the ministry of Jesus Christ had hitherto been carried out chiefly in distant Galilee, few in Jerusalem yet knew of Him, and the Savior could arrive in the capital of Jewry without arousing any particular public attention toward Himself. But news of His extraordinary activity had reached Jerusalem as well, and among the representatives of the dying Jewish order it involuntarily aroused anxiety and suspicion, which manifested themselves clearly on this occasion.

On His way to the temple, the Savior passed by one of the pools that served as a water supply for the inhabitants of Jerusalem. This was the well-known sheep pool—Bethesda—which modern excavations have shown to lie not far from the northwest corner of the temple enclosure. It was a pool about twenty-four fathoms in length and seven fathoms in width, divided in half by a stone wall two cubits thick. Sheep destined for sacrifice were ordinarily washed in it, but the water was also renowned for its healing properties. From time to time an unusual stirring of the water took place in it, “for an angel of the Lord went down at certain seasons into the pool and stirred the water,” endowing it with miraculous healing power; “and whoever stepped in first after the stirring of the water was healed of whatever disease he had.” It is not surprising that this miraculous property drew to the pool “a great multitude of the sick—blind, lame, withered—waiting for the stirring of the water,” who remained there under the shelter of five separate porticoes built by private benefactors of the afflicted. Among the many sufferers there was one poor man who had been paralyzed for about thirty-eight years. He lived in the very porticoes of this pool, but to no avail, since he was helpless and the stirring of the water occurred at irregular intervals, so that others—more fortunate and less feeble—always managed to plunge into the pool before him while the favorable moment had not yet passed. Christ looked upon this man with heartfelt compassion. It was evident that the spirit of the unhappy sufferer was no less paralyzed than his limbs, and his whole withering life was one unbroken despair. The Savior purposed to give the poor man—to whom He could give neither gold nor silver—a gift for the great feast. He wished to help the sufferer whom no one had ever wished to help before. “Do you want to be healed?” He asked him. At first these words scarcely roused the unhappy man from his despondent numbness: he apparently did not even look up at the one who had spoken. But thinking, perhaps, with a momentary gleam of hope, that this was some stranger who out of kindheartedness wished to help him be the first into the water when it was stirred again, he simply answered with the bitter tale of his long and fruitless waiting. But Jesus intended a swifter and more effectual help. “Rise,” He said, “take up your bed and walk!” This was spoken in a tone that could not be disobeyed. The look of the One who spoke, His voice and commanding tone—like an electric current—ran through the emaciated limbs and broken frame, enfeebled by the suffering and sin of a whole lifetime. After thirty-eight years of paralysis, he instantly rose, picked up his bed, and walked. In joyful amazement he looked around to see his unknown benefactor, but the crowd was large, and Christ, seeking to avoid any crude excitement among the people, quietly withdrew.

The sudden appearance among the crowd of a man well known to all as a helpless paralytic—now striding briskly along the street—could not but draw universal attention to him, and he was surrounded by a crowd of people asking how he had suddenly recovered. But among the crowd there were also strict legalists, who were not concerned with the fact of the poor man’s recovery itself, but with the fact that he was violating one of the most sacred ordinances of the Law of Moses—namely, the Sabbath. “Today is the Sabbath,” said these legalists to him, “it is not lawful for you to take up your bed.” Sabbath observance was one of the favorite hobby-horses of the Pharisaism of the day, and since the spirit of the Mosaic legislation was increasingly suppressed in this sect by the letter of dead ritualism, the Sabbath had lost in it its former exalted character—of spiritual and bodily rest from labor and of consecration to the service of God. What came to the fore was a petty observance of rest, and it was surrounded by such absurd inventions of officious sanctimony that this blessed day of rest was turned into a day of burdensome bondage and every kind of restriction. With the utmost trivial exactitude it was specified what one could and could not do on the Sabbath—how many steps one could take, how far one could move, how much one could eat, how much one could write, what medicines one could take, and so on. But most of all, rules had been elaborated concerning the carrying of burdens on the Sabbath day. Drawing on the saying of the prophet Jeremiah—“Take heed for your souls and carry no burden on the Sabbath day” (27:21)—the rabbis had contrived an entire code in which it was precisely stipulated which burdens could and which could not be carried on the Sabbath day. Since the Sabbath began at Friday evening and was announced by the sound of a trumpet, every true Israelite was, according to the rabbis’ teaching, required to immediately set down whatever burden he carried. “On Friday, before the Sabbath begins,” ran one ordinance, “no one should go out of his house with a needle or a pen, lest he forget to lay them aside when the Sabbath arrives. Everyone must carefully search his pockets at that time so that nothing remains in them that it is forbidden to carry out on the Sabbath day.” Not only was it forbidden to carry actual burdens of weight, but according to the interpretation of the Pharisaical rabbis, one was forbidden to wear on the Sabbath even shoes with nails or patches, since nails and a patch also constitute a “burden.” Rabbis were therefore strictly forbidden to wear shoes with patches, lest by forgetfulness they violate the sanctity of the Sabbath—which in their opinion was observed by the entire universe, so that the very angel of the Lord never stirred the water in Bethesda on Sabbaths. With such views it is not surprising that the scribes and Pharisees did not hesitate to point out to the healed man what an unlawful deed he was committing in carrying such a “burden” as his miserable bed. But the blessed man had no time for these petty casuists, and boldly answered them: “The man who healed me told me, ‘Take up your bed and walk.’” Struck with perplexity as to who this bold transgressor of the Sabbath might be, the legalists—paying no attention whatever to the miraculous healing—asked him: “Who is the man who said to you, ‘Take up your bed and walk’?” — that is, who gave the unlawful command for which he could be brought to judgment and punishment. The identity of Jesus Christ was evidently still so little known on the outskirts of Jerusalem, or the man had paid such dull indifference to Him when He first spoke, that in fact he did not know who his benefactor was. But he found out shortly afterward. The narrative reveals in him one attractive trait. A little later we encounter him already in the temple, where he had come to offer thanksgiving to God for the unexpected and miraculous renewal of his joyless life. There too the Savior saw him, and addressed him with a simple but weighty admonition: “See, you have been healed; sin no more, lest something worse befall you.” Evidently this man had been bearing severe punishment for his grave sins, and had received forgiveness of them together with his healing. But he proved unworthy of so great a benefaction. Upon learning who his benefactor was, he—in order to exonerate himself from the guilt of Sabbath-breaking—“went and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had healed him.” This was all His enemies needed. They had already before sensed the danger to themselves in the authority with which the Nazarene prophet had encroached upon their prerogatives, as had been the case in the expulsion of the traders from the temple, and only His swift departure to Galilee had then deprived them of the opportunity to subject Him to persecution, as they had done to John the Baptist. Learning now of His reappearance in Jerusalem, and sensing what a bold blow He was dealing to their cherished idol of Sabbath observance, they did not hesitate to publicly interrogate Him as to what right He had to violate the Sabbath by such actions of His. But in this they had to hear from the Savior an answer whose irresistible force of reasoning plunged them into helpless confusion. To their stern question, Christ answered the Jews: “My Father is working until now, and I am working.” These words contain the entire spirit of Christ’s teaching concerning the Sabbath. When God finished the creation of the world, His Sabbath was not a rest in the sense of a complete cessation of activity. He works unceasingly—namely by His providence and grace sustaining all creation and restoring it from its fall to new spiritual life. And this good work the Heavenly Father has performed throughout all eternity, including Sabbath days and years. And since the Word of God is the constant participant in the activity of God Himself, He too—having become incarnate on earth and taken on human form—likewise performs this great work and may use the Sabbath for it. Hence the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath; indeed the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. Such arguments, delivered with authoritative persuasiveness, brought the Jews into extreme confusion and indignation, and since they were unable to bring forward arguments of equal force in reply, they resorted to a simpler means: “And the Jews persecuted Jesus and sought to kill Him, because He did these things on the Sabbath. And even more they sought to kill Him, because He not only broke the Sabbath but also called God His own Father, making Himself equal with God.” But the Savior meanwhile used this occasion to point to His Messianic dignity, and in warning to them indicated how, in their blindness, they were overlooking the fact that so recently so great a prophet as John the Baptist had borne witness to Him, and that this testimony was in full agreement with Moses and all the Scriptures.

But the hatred lodged in the hearts of the Jewish leaders against the Nazarene prophet left them unable to penetrate the deep meaning of these arguments, and they began with even greater persistence to watch Him in order to find occasion for a new violation of the ancestral ordinances and to have grounds for a bolder move against Christ. The occasion soon presented itself. The Savior left Jerusalem immediately after the Passover ended and set out with His disciples in the direction of Galilee, along a road that wound through fields of barley already producing its first fruits—the firstfruits of which were offered as a sacrifice on the second day of Passover. The law permitted one to pluck ears of grain along the road to satisfy hunger, and the disciples, exercising this right, were indeed plucking ears, rubbing them in their hands, and eating them. And it was the Sabbath. The vigilant enemies at once seized with malicious glee on this new instance of Sabbath-breaking. According to the interpretation of the learned rabbis, plucking ears was equivalent to harvesting, rubbing them in the hands to threshing—and for performing such labors the penalty was stoning. In their view it was a terrible crime. History records instances of true Jews who consented to die of hunger rather than violate the Sabbath. A Jewish helmsman, despite threats of death, refused to touch the rudder during a terrible storm after the sun had set and the Sabbath had begun. Yet these wretched Galileans and their Teacher could not endure even a few hours of simple hunger and were brazenly desecrating the sanctity of the Sabbath! Seizing on this occasion, the Pharisees at once surrounded the Savior, pointing with malicious glee at the apostles: “Look at what they are doing”—with a contemptuous nod toward the disciples—“they are doing on the Sabbath what is not lawful!” But the Savior, with truly divine discernment perceiving the cunning of these hypocritical disputers, immediately defended His disciples and, again declaring Himself Lord of the Sabbath, pointed in their justification to examples from biblical history that clarified the true meaning of the Sabbath. “Have you not read,” Christ addressed the Pharisees and learned scribes, thereby convicting them of ignorance of the Holy Scriptures, in the knowledge of which they boasted before the people, “what David did when he was in need and was hungry, he and those who were with him? How he entered the house of God (on the Sabbath day) and ate the bread of the Presence, which was not lawful for him or those with him to eat, but only for the priests?” If David—their great king, their beloved, their saint—so openly and blatantly violated the letter of the law and yet was not subject to censure solely because of need, then why censure the disciples for an innocent action aimed at satisfying their hunger? And further: if their own rabbis had determined that “there is no Sabbath in the temple”—that priests could on the Sabbath chop wood, light fire, set out freshly baked loaves of the Presence, slaughter sacrificial animals, circumcise children, and thus in every way violate the rules of Sabbath observance that they had themselves devised and blindly enforced—violating them by permission of the law itself (Num. 26:9); if one may violate the Sabbath for the sake of the temple, then can one not violate it for the sake of the One who is greater than the temple? And the Christ whom they persecuted is precisely greater than the temple, and as the Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath. Better that they—instead of watching for such trivialities—should remember the great saying of the prophet that mercy is better than sacrifice (Hos. 6:6), that love for humanity surpasses soulless ritualism.

To demonstrate even more powerfully to the Pharisees the groundlessness of their hostility toward the supposed violators of the Sabbath, the Savior on that same day availed Himself of a new occasion that presented itself in the synagogue of the nearest town. In the synagogue there was a man who, according to tradition a mason, had suffered an injury from an accident that had caused his hand to wither; he begged Christ to heal him so as to be freed from the bitter necessity of begging. Everyone knew of his presence—and evidently also of his purpose—and therefore the chief seats were occupied by scribes and Pharisees, whose malicious eyes were fixed on Christ in expectation of what He would do, so that they might then accuse Him. He did not leave them long in suspense. First He told the man with the withered hand to come forward and stand in the middle. Then He submitted to the judgment of their own conscience the question already on their minds, posing it in a way that would show them its true meaning: “Is it lawful,” He asked, “to do good on the Sabbath or to do evil? To save a soul (as I do) or to destroy one (as you are plotting in your hearts)?” To this question only one answer was possible, but they had evidently not assembled here to seek the truth or to speak it. Their sole purpose was to watch what He would do in order to base a public accusation upon it before the Sanhedrin, or at least to brand Him with the disgraceful mark of a Sabbath-breaker. They therefore answered the question put to them with an impenetrable, evasive silence. But Christ did not wish to allow them to escape the verdict of their own conscience, and therefore in justification of Himself brought an example from their own common practice, which made it utterly impossible for them to answer this question. “Which one of you,” He asked, “having a sheep that falls into a pit on the Sabbath, will not take hold of it and lift it out? Of how much more value is a man than a sheep?” The argument was unanswerable, and the example itself could not be denied; and yet the malicious silence of the disputers remained unbroken. He looked around at them with anger; holy indignation burned in His heart, shone in His face, animated His movements, rang in His voice, as He slowly passed His eyes over all those faces stretched taut with malicious stubbornness, convicting them of malice and baseness, ignorance and pride; then, suppressing this bitter and powerful feeling, He turned to performing the deed of mercy and said to the sick man: “Stretch out your hand,” and to the great astonishment of all present he stretched it out, and it became whole, like the other. And so Christ again confounded His enemies—not only with verbal arguments, but with a deed of great compassion that served to bring new glory to the Messiah.