I have no one

“Do you want to be well?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; while I am on my way, someone else gets down there before me.” Jesus said to him, “Rise, take up your mat, and walk.”

Monday, I went to the oncologist in San Pedro Sula. My defenses are good, though my platelets are a bit low. We scheduled the third chemotherapy for next Wednesday. 

I returned to Copán and joined the diocesan clergy retreat that had started that afternoon. Tuesday morning at Mass, tears welled up within me as I read the Gospel of the paralytic at the pool of Bethesda. (The ruins of this pool are near the church of Saint Anne in Jerusalem.) 

Photo of the pool of Bethesda (November 2004)

The people believed that an angel would stir up the waters of this pool and those who arrived first would be healed, but this man was all alone, with no one to help him. So, he was waiting. He had been ill for thirty-eight years. 

Jesus approaches him. The paralytic looks to Jesus to move him into the water, but he is in for a surprise. Jesus does not carry him to the waters, but the Living Water, Jesus, comes to him, to hear his plea and to heal him. 

It is interesting how our life experiences often shed a new light on the scriptural text. What struck me that morning at Mass is how I feel surrounded by so many people, who are – in their way – carrying me to the water.

Yes, it’s lonely, sitting for hours in chemotherapy. But Padre German, our pastor, has come twice to be with me for a few hours. Sure, it’s so uncertain, but people ask about my health. How many people are ill, without someone to aid them, to accompany them! 

In his message for the World Day of the Sick this year, Pope Francis wrote pointedly,

Illness is part of our human condition. Yet, if illness is experienced in isolation and abandonment, unaccompanied by care and compassion, it can become inhumane. When we go on a journey with others, it is not unusual for someone to feel sick, to have to stop because of fatigue or of some mishap along the way. It is precisely in such moments that we see how we are walking together: whether we are truly companions on the journey, or merely individuals on the same path, looking after our own interests and leaving others to “make do”.

How true and how sad! One of the most challenging but fulfilling parts of my diaconal ministry has been visiting the sick. At times I don’t have much to say and will use the ritual prayers as a starting point. At times, I find myself inspired and we talk for a while. When the person is disposed, I will share the Eucharist. It is always a joy when those who accompany me offer a hymn after the ill person has received. I don’t know how much I can do this now. At least, I try to share this with the communion ministers (whose main ministry is to visit the sick.) And I can help others become more aware of the central need of the sick for that human touch, that touch of the hand of God, through our hands. I recently finished a book that helps me reflect on my situation: Father Tomas Halik's Touch the Wounds: On Suffering, Trust, and Transformation.

Here are a few quotes that sustain me:

Jesus is everywhere that there are the needy — and for us they are everywhere (and he in them) as an “opportunity,” as an open gate to the Father. (p. 43) 

The first step to healing the world’s wounds is our conversion, repentance, humility — or in everyday language: the courage to be truthful about ourselves. (p. 146) 

...when Christ comes and shows us his wounds it can rouse our “courage for the truth,” our courage to take off the “armor, masks, and makeup” that we use to conceal our wounds from others, and often from ourselves. (p.147)