In the Natural Creation a divide is created in day 2, with the waters gathered above separated from those below. The water “above” is new, not only in its position but also in its composition, these waters are salt-free and life giving. Those beneath, from which the elevated waters came, cannot sustain human life. Our expectations in John’s Creation therefore follow this same theme: in this portion of the gospel we expect to find life drawn out of death using the object of water as the carrier of the metaphor.
Reappearance of the Baptist
With these thoughts in mind we turn to the text (John 3:22-36) and immediately encounter John the Baptist. Without the creation pattern, this would be a most anomalous occurrence. John the Baptist has already completed his herald role and baptism of the Christ (John 1:6-36); we would expect him to subsequently pass from the narrative (as he does in the other gospels), and not reappear. Yet within the model of John’s Creation the Baptist’s appearance is appropriate – even anticipated – at the opening of Day 2, for there is no more appropriate metaphor for the waters of life than baptism. Thus mention of John’s tending those “constantly coming to be baptised” (3:23, NIV quotes) is an excellent reflection of the work of creation’s day 2.
The depth of the parallel extends further than just a mention of the work of baptism, however. Note how Jesus is described in the context of one who is baptizing:
They [John’s disciples] came to John and said to him, “Rabbi, that man who was with you on the other side of the Jordan – the one you testified about — well, he is baptizing, and everyone is going to him.” To this John replied, “The one who comes from above is above all; the one who is from the earth belongs to the earth, and speaks as one from the earth. The one who comes from heaven is above all” (John 3:31).
Compare this statement with the ways baptism is presented. Paul presents baptism as the destruction of the old man — which is of the earth — and his carnal desires (Rom. 6); Peter presents baptism as the repentance — from carnal conduct — to forgiveness of sins (Acts 2). John’s Gospel emphasises a different facet of the same truth: that the baptismal work of Jesus is the transition from the state of death to the state of life; John achieves this by describing Jesus as one who is “drawing up to heaven from earth,” cleverly mirroring the very act of God with the waters on Day 2.
Jesus’ Ministry: The Waters Above
We are confident, therefore, that the theme for this section of John’s Gospel (3:22-5:47) is “Waters of Life,” specifically with relevance to the creative act: the raising up of some life-giving thing from something dead beneath. This is fully supported by the text that follows: the encounter at Jacob’s Well (4:1-43), the healing of the official’s son (4:46-54) and the healing at Bethesda (5:1-15). The story of the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s Well is of sufficient import to form the core of next month’s article (Lord willing); we will address the other two events here.
Drawing up of “those beneath” 1: the dying
The royal official said, “Sir, come down before my child dies.” Jesus replied, “You may go. Your son will live.” The man took Jesus at his word and departed (John 4:49-50).
Once again the central feature hints at resurrection: a restoring to full health of one who is close to death, and a healing that is enabled by the belief of the child’s father in Jesus’ ability to perform it — note the relevance of the inclusion that the father “took Jesus at his word.”
The very next part of the narrative is a continuation of this same idea telling of the healing of the impotent man at Bethesda, (John 5:1-15). Once again John has selected a story for this portion of his gospel in which a man is physically raised up from his prostrate position (the enactment of being “drawn above”).
Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked (John 5:8-9).
We observe the recurring theme of water along with the healing. Here it is the pool at Bethesda, the physical water by which the healing usually came for those who gathered at the poolside. Yet these waters are contrasted with Jesus as the spiritual water, who draws up the man from his afflicted state to the full physical abilities of one who is alive.
Why are we shown two miracles, the official’s son and the invalid, why does not one suffice? There are two distinct ways in which a human ailment can be severe: it can be chronically severe (i.e. it has been a problem for a very long time), or it can be acutely severe (i.e. it is life-threatening). These two miracles are not just repeats of each other, but rather a discrete example of each type. The child’s illness is acutely severe (i.e. he is critically ill and about to die) and he is brought back from the brink of death by Jesus’ act of healing. By contrast, the impotent man’s illness is chronically severe: the Bible bothers to point out that it has been ongoing for 38 years! Jesus recovers this man who has suffered for the majority of his life.
Putting these two miracles together therefore gives us a very simple, but very profound, teaching in Jesus’ ability to heal. It is a total ability; an ability to heal wounds that are either chronically severe or acutely severe. Translating this to the spiritual plane, as the Gospel of John consistently invites us and provokes us to do, provides us with much comfort for our own condition. There is no sin we can have committed which causes a wound too deep (i.e. a spiritual sickness too acutely severe) for Christ to heal. Nor is there any condition or lifestyle that we can have perpetrated for so long (i.e. a spiritual sickness too chronically severe) for Christ to be able to heal. Sometimes there are wounds that are so severe that the sufferer cannot generate the necessary humility to seek absolution, but that is strictly a (further) weakness of the patient, and not a limitation of the healer. It is made manifestly apparent in these verses that no spiritual wound is beyond the healing power of Jesus. These are powerful moments in the Gospel of John, and we do well to pay them full attention.
Exhortation from the poolside
We can develop the above to a more exhortation theme. The invalid has lain under the arches of Bethesda, where the pool is rumored to have healing qualities at certain times, for a total of 38 years (John 5:2-5).
Jesus asks the man a question:
When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, “Do you want to get well?” “Sir,” the invalid replied, “I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me” (John 5:6-7).
We don’t have recorded for us the tone of voice in which Jesus spoke, merely the words that were said. Nevertheless we propose that Jesus poses the question here in anger (even though we know Jesus bore the sympathy and compassion of the Father Himself). The evidence for this is twofold. First, the words that Jesus speaks to the man after he is healed clearly reveal that the man’s behaviour has certainly been reprehensible. Jesus says to him: “See, you are well again. Stop sinning or something worse may happen to you.” (John 5:14) Second, we deduce the aggressive nature of Jesus’ question from the answer the invalid gives, because the answer reveals exactly what the invalid thought he was being asked, including the tone that he perceived. Consider Jesus’ question in the simplest and most innocent sense: “Do you want to be made well?” Logically the only available answers are: “Yes, please;” “No, thank you;” or “How can you possibly do that?” Yet look at what the man says!
Sir… I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me (John 5:7).
How can this possibly be an answer to the question he has been asked? Yet this is a vital clue, because by studying the answer he gave, we can work backwards to extrapolate the question that he felt he was being asked. To do this we need to formulate a question that fits the given answer. Likely that question was: “How is it that you’ve lain here for thirty-eight years, and in all of that time you’ve totally failed to use the water in the pool to heal yourself? Are you serious about trying to be healed or not?” Now the given answer (“Sir, I have no man…”) fits perfectly, so we can deduce this is indeed the sense of Jesus’ question.
Why is this relevant to us? Because the story of the impotent man has the potential to mirror our condition alongside the healing waters of memorial bread and wine. Jesus is angry with the man because, although the healing waters lie right alongside him and have been accessible for many years, he has made no genuine effort to plunge into them and be wholly healed. This is because his life is convenient as it is: Bethesda is a place where the crippled congregate, and here, among those who necessarily beg for a living, is found a stable, if meagre, income, living off the charitable alms received from those who pass by. The fundamental change of being healed would be rather frightening. He would have no further justification to beg, and would have to begin working for a living. Given that he has no trade or profession (he has lain by the poolside for 38 years, don’t forget), there is a genuine probability his material situation will worsen, rather than improve! Thus he maintains an equilibrium state from the charitable donations he receives, alive yet permanently crippled, by the poolside.
Likewise each Sunday we are confronted with the challenge of the memorial bread and wine. How do we understand the sacraments in terms of the elements we encounter in John 5? Are they the alms that we receive lying by the poolside, or are they the pool itself? We deduce the answer: they can be either the alms or the pool, depending on the attitude with which we approach them! If we approach bread and wine with the attitude of merely wishing to be freely given forgiveness (as alms are given), then that is how we will receive them, simply as alms fueling our equilibrium state by the poolside — spiritually ever crippled, but surviving on grace. John’s creation shows us that this is not to fully embrace the reality of the “drawing above” of day 2, rather this is the state that angers the Master so that he might grab us by the shoulders and demand: “Wilt thou be made whole?”
It is clear we can do better. A desire to be healed cannot be cultivated until one recognises that one is sick. We do not approach the emblems of bread and wine to “better ourselves” but rather to “make ourselves better.” The distinction may be subtle, but that this distinction should be recognised is a matter of desperate importance. By approaching with genuine intent to be wholly healed we can be prepared to accept the challenge of being made a new man (for it was within Bethesda’s pool that a healed man was made). Regardless of how many years we may have lain by the poolside, as we pass bread and wine quietly from hand to hand, we can find within ourselves the courage to offer that better prayer: that this time we will plunge into the pool and be healed.
Drawing up of “those beneath” 2: the dead
The natural extension of this limitless healing power of Jesus is seen in the ability to recover a soul, not only up to, but from beyond the brink of death: the power of resurrection. This logical train of thought in John leads to exactly that. The closing words of John 5, and of day 2, deal wholly with the fact that the resurrection power of God is fully manifest in His Son: the ultimate as the healing waters of life.
For just as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, even so the Son gives life to whom he is pleased to give it.. .Do not be amazed at this, for a time is coming when all who are in their graves will hear his voice and come out — those who have done good will rise to live, and those who have done evil will rise to be condemned (John 5:21,28-29).
The conclusion of the day’s pattern, therefore, is that the Son has the power to “draw up” to life, and will draw up to life all those who are in the graves.
Additionally, there is one interesting detail from this final set of verses in the latter half of John 5. It is verse 19, which is given in the context of justifying that Jesus has the power of resurrection:
I tell you the truth, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does (John 5:19).
Principally this verse demonstrates that the Son has the power to give life through the argument that the Father gives life and the Son performs all the works of his Father. Consider also a potential broader application of this verse, particularly in the light of the fact that we are searching through John to either ratify or discard the proposal that the book is structured as a spiritual parallel to the Creation sequence. The verse assures us that “whatever the Father does, the Son also does.” Now the Father created the world, and all things therein, in a period of time evidencing six discrete sections, and this verse assures us that the Son does whatsoever the Father does! Is this not direct evidence that we will find, somewhere, a “creation” by the Son? If it is, then we have found in this single verse a small corroboration of the whole pattern that we seek to justify. But perhaps it is not. Perhaps we have stretched the application of this verse beyond its reasonable bounds — the reader must determine that for himself. At most this verse is direct evidence of the veracity of the very pattern we seek to justify, and it is at least a fascinating idea whose implications will stretch to the very last sections of this study.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One