The sick man answered Him, “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up…

HE SUNDAY Of the Paralytic is the Fourth Sunday of Pascha in the Eastern Rite. We replace the RCL Gospel this Sunday with the story of the man at the pool of the Five Porticoes. You know: every once in a while the Angle of God would stir the waters and the first person into the pool would be healed.

To this text we have also a healing in the Book of Acts and a reminder that as Jesus laid down his life for us, we should lay down our lives for each other.

On Wednesday this week we celebrate the feast of Mid-Pentecost, and all things turn to images of water and teaching. This was a time of preparing folks for Baptism (as it is, even today). And the liturgical cycle brings that home to us. And so, if Wednesday we turn to water and baptism, what does it mean that today we have an image of a man unable to get into the water – but Jesus heals him anyway?

John Wesley offers us an image of God drawing people to his table in all cases – through Baptism, of course, but also through the most common Holy Mystery, the weekly table fellowship of the Christian community. Wesley realises that someone may be most directly drawn to Jesus here at communion – and who are we to deny them?

And while I was thinking about this, I found myself wondering, suddenly, does the Johannine community Baptised at all? I realised the Gospel of John has no Baptism story! In fact, Jesus rather pointedly walks past John the Baptist and says nothing to him. John sees Jesus and says, “look there is the lamb of God” and even testifies, “I saw the Holy Spirit descend on him”. But John never (in this Gospel) baptises him. And later, (in John 4) we are told Jesus didn’t baptise any other folks.

So I’m wondering if the Johannine Community had a baptism at all (although it’s clear they had foot-washing).

Our community welcomes people to communion when God calls them – which he may do at anytime, when they walk through the door. Even prior to their baptism.

But, we don’t do it because we believe the Bread and the Wine at the altar are only symbols that are powerless as such. “I believe and I confess” says the liturgy, “that you are the Christ… and this truly is your own most pure Body and this truly is your own precious blood.” I am terrified to draw near to the presence of my God. But I do so out of Faith and Love for him, present here, among us and in us, and with us. If he is calling you, then come – you may have had no one to dip you in the pool, but Jesus will hear your prayers and make you whole anyway.

This isn’t cheap grace, however: it’s free, but not cheap. God’s love is offered to you, but as with all true lovers, he will call a response out of you, a return gift: not required, but real, none the less.

Look at the Epistle: Jesus expects us to lay our lives down for each other – as he lays his life down for us! And it won’t be easy – for just as in the Book of Acts, the Religious and Political leaders found the followers of Jesus suspect, so will they find you suspect. If God is calling you to this table, it is a life of subversion of the dominant social order, it is a life of open revolution against the authority of the state and “respected” authorities that you are being called to. God won’t let you sleep any more if there is anyone hungry and you still have a crumb left on your plate. God will not let you go if there are naked people and you have extra shirts in your closet. And if your bread gets mouldy in the cupboard, God will ask you why you wasted the food of the poor.

But that calling, that love is Free.

And if you can’t get into the pool, Jesus will still give you himself and heal you.

But you’ve got work to do afterward.

Amen.

NLY ONE Week after the Resurrection and our readings for today (from the RCL) confront us with the two things we least want to hear about in church: money and doubt.

We have two layers of Church History here: The early church, we are told, received from each according to their ability and gave to each according to their need. But the earliest church – the 11 – couldn’t convince one of their own that Jesus was raised except for him to see, touch and believe on his own.

We also have a couple of textual layers here: the Johannite material has the apostles receiving the Holy Spirit via the breath of Jesus. The Lukan material – perhaps to accentuate the universality of the Holy Spirit – portrays the spirit coming on Pentecost. The early communism of the church is in response to this Pentecost experience.

Imagine being, for a moment, in the room that day that Jesus showed up the first Pascha. Imagine (or project, at least) your joy. Imagine your astonishment. Then Jesus departs (for where, you do not know) having breathed on you something called “The Holy Spirit”. Then in the middle of your spiritual high comes Thomas… “Bah! Humbug” he says.

How do you react? Tell me, how you treat Thomas now? Here he is, one of the Lord’s chosen 12. But one of them has already betrayed him. Another one has already denied him and everyone in the room ran away at the most important point in the story. And yet all of that has been forgiven and Jesus was just here a moment ago – Sorry you missed him, Tom, but really: he was just here! “Bah! Humbug” he says.

How do you deal with his doubt?

The reading in Acts is the set-up for the story of Ananias & Sapphira: essentially the story is one of “everyone shared everything, except these two, and they died”.

How do you deal with doubt?

Preachers at St Gregory’s Church in San Francisco get feed back: the parish tradition holds that “we continue the work of preaching together”. After a time of silence the congregation is invited to share their own personal experiences which were called to mind either by the sermon or by the readings. The Sunday I preached, Gay Pride Sunday, there were a good few friends in the congregation. The first person to speak said, in response to my sermon, “that’s all very well and good for you who believe in Jesus, what about for those of us who don’t?” And there was an uncomfortable laughter around the room: but no answer was forthcoming. I still don’t know the answer.

How do you deal with doubt?

I think that the answer might come later in our reading from 1 John: Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. (4:20)

When first contemplating these readings for Thomas Sunday, I was sitting in a coffee shop in Buffalo – near the back. Reclining on a sofa next to me were a man and a woman who had about them the air of street people. They were unwashed, although the woman had finely painted nails and red, high heeled shoes of a sort that could not but be called “Spikey”. The longer I sat there the more they seemed to me like a prostitute (she even had a gold lamé vest) and her friend or dealer or pimp. Not sure. At one point he got up and announced he was going out on the street to panhandle a bit. While he was gone she napped.

The entire time I sat there watching I really wanted to make some text/tweet/facebook comment about prostitutes and the coffee shop on Saturday Morning. But every time I typed it… I deleted it. Finally, I looked over there and some switch clicked in my head about Jesus and Prostitutes. And I realised I wasn’t being very Christian at all. About the only thing I could come up with that was not at her expense was “Kyrie Eleison”. How can we love God, whom we have not seen…

There was in the coffee shop another man who offered the lady some coffee. He had clearly spoken to her before: she joked with him and everyone at the table laughed. I heard him – clearly across the coffee shop – ask her if she still had his phone number. And to remember to call him if she needed anything.

How odd to find Jesus in Spot coffee in the body of an African American Muslim.

Jesus says, “Blessed are those who do not see and yet believe”. And yet the only way we know of our believing is to love those whom we do see… even the ones who deny.

How do you deal with doubt? The real issue for us is to realise that doubt is not a doctrinal question: it is a moral one. Doctrinal questions are easily settled by appeals to literalism and various texts – the Bible, the Fathers, the XXXIX Articles, the Liturgy, Hymns, whatever. But moral issues are solved only in relationship. My doubt is in failing to see Jesus present in the coffee shop. For me Jesus can’t be risen even though he was present for me to touch and see if I had only believed enough to do so.

It’s easy to be there on that first Pascha: Jesus walks into the room with us at every turn if we can but believe enough to see him.

How do you deal with doubt?