. . . about a man who’s been an invalid for thirty-eight years and how he comes repeatedly to the waters which must be entered when troubled in order to be healed. He tries and tries, but can’t get into the water because everyone pushes him aside. Jesus comes upon him near the river and asks, “Do you want to be healed?” The man continues his complaints about being constantly pushed aside. Jesus asks him a second time, more quietly, but with something firm in his voice that breaks the poor man’s complaint, “Do you want to be healed?” This time the broken man focuses on Jesus, looking at the calm water in his eyes, and with sudden understanding, the invalid answers with a resounding, “Yes!”

Jesus crouches beside him, his hands close to his legs but not touching them, and whispers like a ray of light, “Then lift your pallet and walk.” And slowly, the man begins like a cripple who is skeptical. As he finds unknown strength in his legs, he starts to rise like a severe arthritic. But as he begins to stand under his own power, he feels spirit in his blood-filled thighs. And once erect, spirit and life are flowing through his limbs, through his unthinking legs, igniting his awareness. Jesus slips into the crowd, and the man, not knowing who he was, splashes through the waters to rejoice, already healed.

The story says a great deal about how we approach and resist reality. The first issue we face time and again is that of needing crisis, troubled waters, to be opened to the terrain of true health, when only being is necessary to be healed (just lift your pallet and walk). Too often, we’re so wrapped in our illusions that we need crisis to open us.

The word health can be traced back to the Indo-European root kailo, which means whole and uninjured. This phrase is also the root of the Old English word halig, which means sacred and holy. Not surprisingly, there’s an innate connection between wholeness, health, and what is sacred. At their deepest level, they are the same. In truth, this innate trinity is a state of living, not an arrived at state of mind. We are constantly healing, never fully healed. We are constantly approaching wholeness, and can never be completely whole. We are constantly working to be here and to recover wonder, and are never finished and holy like a museum relic. Often, it’s this never-ending attempt to heal that saves us by cleansing the buildup of pain and illusion that comes from living in the world.