NOTES for Joh 5:1-24

It is hard to imagine someone more single-minded and more certain of how and what must be done than the sick man who had lain for 38 years by the Sheep Gate. He had been there so long that everyone passing by had surely grown used to seeing him there and had long ago forgotten why he had ended up there. Even Jesus raises the question: "Do you want to be made well?"

Many years earlier this man had come here in the hope that someone would help him get down into the water as soon as the angel of the Lord touched it, but his hopes had never been fulfilled. During that long time, he himself had apparently forgotten that he needed healing, thinking only about how to get into this pool in time. To a direct question, instead of simply saying "yes," this man answers with a detailed description of why he is still lying on the bank.

But the Lord acts differently, not at all as the sick man had imagined for many years: He does not lower the paralytic into the water, but tells him to get up and walk, taking his mat. God works miracles without relying on human logic, overturning our ideas about the world, even breaking the Sabbath. And very often, like the Pharisees who were present at this healing, we find it hard to accept that He breaks familiar laws, doing what in no way fits our idea of Him.

Judging by everything, the people who gathered near the pool of Bethesda were precisely those longing for healing. And Jesus asks the sick man what seems a foolish question: "Do you want to be made well?" Why, one asks, is he lying here if he does not want to recover? But not everything is that simple. At times doctors encounter this kind of situation: a person runs from doctor to doctor, scrupulously follows every instruction; it appears that everything is being done as it should be, yet there is still no improvement. And the illness, it would seem, is not serious, but nothing helps. Experienced doctors in such situations often say that this is work for a psychiatrist or psychologist: the person is simply comfortable being sick. The body refuses to recover because this is familiar, this is comfortable. The person has something to do: he is undergoing treatment. Having recovered, such a person would simply lose the meaning of life!

The same thing happens with our sins. Blessed Augustine described this attitude toward sin with remarkable wit and self-criticism: "Lord, grant me chastity! Only, please, not today." We come to God and ask, ask Him to heal us, to free us from sins... But in reality we simply do not see our life without sin. We are used to sinning and repenting, and do we in fact need the help we ask Him for? He asks a simple question: "Do you want to be made well?" And until our answer is a sincere "Yes" coming from the heart, no healing will be possible.

The Torah, the commandments given by God, were always perceived as a guide along the path of righteousness. It is not surprising that Jesus turns to the Torah, and more precisely to the Decalogue, interpreting its commandments from the point of view of the Kingdom He brought into the world. And from the point of view of the Kingdom, what comes to the fore is not the action as such, but the intention behind it, the intent a person invests in the action he performs. And if the intention is present, the actual fact of performing or not performing the action changes nothing in principle. If, for example, a person hates his neighbor so much that he is ready to kill him, Jesus, as one can see, equates such hatred with murder.

At first glance such an approach may seem too strict. But it must be kept in mind that the inner Torah, about which many learned rabbis and teachers of the Torah spoke in those days, put precisely intention, intent, in the foreground. Getting rid of evil intentions was considered the most important step on the path to acquiring the inner Torah. But the issue is not only the inner Torah as such. The issue is also that intentions have special significance for the Kingdom. After all, the substance of the Kingdom is God's breath, and its fabric is formed by the relationships that bind a person both with God and with Christ, and with neighbors.

The quality of relationships determines not only the quality of a person's life in the Kingdom, but also the very possibility of remaining in it. That is why Jesus gives so much attention to intention: after all, every intention of ours, if we are inhabitants of the Kingdom, concerns not only us and the people toward whom it is directed, but the entire Kingdom as a whole, in all its fullness.

Quite recently, we celebrated a “Christian women's day.” Today we have another feast of our own, one that might be called a “Christian health day”: the Sunday of the Paralytic. What does the Church tell us by choosing these passages for this day? She says that we are all sick, both physically and spiritually. And this is our good fortune, because “it is not the healthy who need a physician, but the sick,” and Christ is our only “doctor”: He “came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance” (see Mt 9:12-13). Moreover, we are not merely sick. We are truly paralytics: we cannot obtain healing by ourselves. Only Christ can lower us into the water (see Jn 5:7). Only He will lead us to heaven.

Let us look at the man healed by Jesus. As Scripture says, he had been in his illness for thirty-eight years. Even in good health, it is hard for us to imagine such a span of time. He did not spend all those years at the Jerusalem pool, but he spent much of that time in this painful waiting and disappointment: first waiting for the movement of the water, and then feeling disappointed when he realized that once again he had not made it in time...

But he still tried! When he saw the water move, he began to go down into the water; he did not finally despair after realizing yet again that he was too late. The easiest thing in this situation would be to give up and believe that healing was impossible. His endurance and faith, though not visible at first glance, are striking.

And then comes his conversation with Jesus. To what looks like a foolish question, this sick man answers directly and honestly. He does not say, full of pride, "Isn't it obvious that I want to be healed? Why else would I be stuck here?" No, the sick man speaks of his weakness, no doubt asking for help yet again with his words about having no one to put him into the pool. And in response to his trust and faith, he receives healing.

For the Jews who listened to Christ, the most astonishing and impossible thing was that He called God His Father. To a certain degree they were right: who among human beings would really dare to call God his Father? Only in the Lord Jesus Christ is the possibility of such adoption revealed to us, while within the framework of the Old Testament relationship with God this is absolutely impossible. And here we see that rare case when the Lord does not reproach the Jews for unbelief, but gives proof that He has the right to call the Father in this way: the works of Christ, in which the glory of God is unambiguously revealed. On the basis of these very works the Lord calls people to honor the Son as they honor the Father.

But then, in today's passage, the Lord says another astonishing and very important thing. The point is that a person's life outside the New Covenant concluded by Christ passes in one way or another in expectation of judgment and in preparation for it. From deep antiquity people understood this, which is why almost all ancient religions pictured the rulers of the underworld with scales in their hands, and why even the ancient Egyptians carved assurances to the gods on the walls of tombs in the name of the dead: "I did not kill, I did not steal, I did no evil..."

The Old Covenant also does not free us from this experience of all our actions, deeds, and thoughts being subject to judgment. That is what the law is for: to be judged by it... For the Gentiles, the Lord Jesus Himself also speaks of the Last Judgment, as the evangelist Matthew tells us in chapter 25. This judgment is a kind of checkpoint beyond which you either enter eternal life or do not enter it.

So the exceptional newness of Christ's covenant consists, according to His words, in the fact that the one who believes in Him is not judged and does not come into judgment, but has already passed from death into life. It goes without saying that the word "believes" does not mean someone who only "confesses with his lips," but someone who lovingly fulfills the will of Christ. For such a person the Kingdom of Heaven begins already now. When the Lord says, "Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven has drawn near," He offers all of us entry into it.

Speaking about His ministry, Jesus mentions both judgment and the resurrection of the dead - everything that His listeners associated with the end of earthly history, the coming of the Messiah, and the arrival of the messianic Kingdom. Yet He still does not call Himself the Messiah. Perhaps this very thing gave rise to many misunderstandings: while claiming messianic prerogatives, Jesus nevertheless does not proclaim Himself the Messiah, and an ordinary person, even a prophet, was not allowed anything of the kind according to the generally accepted religious ideas of that time. Why, then, does He not try to resolve the misunderstandings simply by announcing that He is the Messiah? Then the response to His words would surely have been different, and the accusations would have been fewer, or perhaps there would have been none at all. After all, people expected both judgment and a special relationship with God from the Messiah, though of course this was not a matter of God-manhood in the Christian sense.

The problem, however, was that in the Jewish world of that time both the Messiah and His tasks were viewed through the lens of the tradition of militant messianism. This tradition had seemed to fade almost completely in the Hellenistic period, but it gained new life in the era of the Maccabean wars, which were regarded as the beginning of the messianic war, during which or shortly after which the Messiah would appear. The Messiah had not only to declare Himself; He had to act, and to act in a very specific, expected way. Jesus had no intention of acting that way. His main task during His short earthly ministry was to bring as many people as possible into the life of the Kingdom. His mission came down to going and revealing the Kingdom wherever the Father indicated, and to creating a community of those who had shared in the Kingdom and were ready to devote themselves to bearing witness to it. For everyone else, including even the apostles, all of this was only a prelude to what they considered most important: preparation for a messianic uprising and a messianic war that was supposed to end with the expulsion of the Romans and the founding of a new "kingdom of the righteous."

Jesus, however, constantly speaks about one and the same thing: the Kingdom and His true mission. He does not call Himself the Messiah precisely so that no one will demand from Him what He could not do in any case, because it was not part of His Father's plans. This made everything much more difficult and brought the tragic outcome nearer, but it made it possible to avoid misunderstandings that could have led to a serious spiritual temptation. That temptation, in 70 C.E., led to the destruction of the city and the Temple, as the Savior had foretold.

"Making Himself God" was an accusation quite often thrown at the Savior during His earthly ministry. It was thrown by deeply religious people. What was it: malicious slander or a misunderstanding? Most of all, neither.

Here it is simply the difference between religion and Revelation. Between an external knowledge of God, as if from the outside, and that fullness of communion with Him which is impossible without the fullness of His presence in the one who communes with Him. Jesus constantly speaks to His listeners precisely about such fullness. He knows what He is talking about: He was born with this fullness. He did not have to search for it and rejoice if He managed, even for a moment, to catch a glimpse of its reflection, as ordinary people do. The fullness of the life of His heavenly Father abides in Him constantly. Of course, He understands that none of His listeners has access to it as He does.

But He knows something else as well: there is a path leading to this fullness. A path that begins in the human heart, leads to Him, and then, through the fullness of His life, to the fullness of communion with God revealed in the life of the Kingdom. And then each person becomes a son of God. Not the Son with a capital letter, of course, as He Himself is, but a son. And here this is no longer religion and not even mysticism; here it is a new being, a new existence, a new life.

In the fullness of God's life, opened through the Messiah. Through the Son with a capital letter. But to a person who has made religion the goal and meaning of his life, this seems like blasphemy. How can a human being claim the fullness of communion with God? Between God and man there is an abyss. It is never bridgeable, under any circumstances. And if someone appears who claims that one can be close to God as to a human being, and even closer, he is either a madman or a blasphemer.

Meanwhile Jesus bears witness that as Man He feels no distance between Himself and God. "I and the Father are one." There is a distinction: the Son is not the Father. But there is no distance. And the action is one. "My Father is working even now, and I am working." This lack of distance seems absolutely incredible to a religious person. The paradox is that religion arose from the feeling of this distance, and arose in order to overcome it. And now the One who has overcome it appears.

It would seem that one should simply rejoice. But it turns out that what was conceived as a means has already managed to become an end in itself. And now the specialists who manage this means are indignant when they see that it is becoming unnecessary. They are ready to do everything to get rid of the One who has devalued it. But the Kingdom does not fit into any religious framework. One has to choose, and each person makes his own choice.

"What do these words mean? " What means "hath everlasting life" and " is passed from death unto life "? In any case, it is not about a deliverance from physical death - because all the apostles, and John the Evangelist himself are dead also, and it is exactly their faith and observation of the word that we take for standards! How's like that "shall not come into condemnation"? It is in fact said that: " it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment" (Heb 9:27). The word "life" can probably help here. Life is not a fait accompli, but a fact which is been carried out. That's why life does not belong to those who listened to the word, but to those who listen to it; as well as faith is a dynamic notion: there is a distance of a colossal dimension between the faith in the existence of God and the faith in Christ's death and resurrection. Thus, a listener and believer is someone who is engaged in the way of life, the way of growth, someone who departs from the way of degradation and disappearance. But what about the judgment? Let us think about such an interpretation: the believer doesn't come to the forthcoming judgment, because he is already under judgment - indeed, " judgment consists of the fact that light came into the world " ( see Jn3:19), Christ is this light, and the believer " walks in the light ", that is before the face of the One, to Whom the Father gave judgment. Every split second the Face of the Judge is turned upon us.

"What do these words mean?" What does "has eternal life" and "has passed from death into life" mean? In any case, not deliverance from physical death: all the apostles, and John the Theologian himself, died, and yet we consider their hearing of the word and their faith exemplary. How can it be that such a person "does not come into judgment"? After all, it says: "It is appointed for men to die once, and after this comes judgment" (Heb 9:27).

The word "life" can help here. Life is not an accomplished fact, but something that is taking place. Therefore life belongs not to the one who "heard" the word, but to the one who is hearing it; and faith too is a dynamic concept: the distance between faith in God's existence and faith in Christ's death and resurrection is enormous. Thus the one who listens and believes is someone who has stepped onto the path of life, the path of growth, someone who has left the path of degradation and disappearance.

And what about judgment? It can be understood this way: the believer does not come to the future judgment because he is already before the judgment, for "this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world" (John 3:19); Christ is this light, and the believer "walks in the light," that is, before the Face of the One to whom the Father has given judgment. Every moment the Face of the Judge is turned toward us.

It is striking how differently we can perceive what we read, how differently we “hear.” Perception would seem to depend on the time of day, the reader’s physical condition (quite simply, whether or not one has had enough sleep), and the desire to receive information. Yet there is One in this world who can turn everything, including hindrances, to good (see Rom 8:28). In verse 24 Jesus speaks astonishing words. But even these words can be heard in different ways. Sometimes, by God’s grace, something flares up within us in response to what we have read. He grants this either when we ask for such hearing or when He Himself very much needs us to hear. This is probably the attentive listening and response to His word of which Jesus speaks—not something achieved by our human strength alone. It is no accident that He repeatedly said, “Let anyone with ears to hear listen!” (Matt 11:15). Who, then, does not have these ears? Yet only the Lord can open them. So let us ask God for the gift of hearing, so that the words “whoever hears My word” may apply to us.

The Lord again speaks about the judgment that awaits all human deeds. This was probably discussed more than once during Christ's earthly ministry, and all the evangelists in one way or another pass on what the Teacher said. Unlike the lengthy parable of the Last Judgment recorded by the evangelist Matthew, the evangelist John gives here a revelation about the authority that the Father has given to the Son.

The Lord says that the Heavenly Father has given Him authority to execute judgment because He is the Son of Man. On the one hand, this refers to the Messiah, whom Holy Scripture often calls the Son of Man, and so we may understand the Savior to mean that judgment has been given to Him because He is the Christ, the Savior and Redeemer of the world. On the other hand, let us remember the words of the apostle Paul: "Therefore He had to be made like His brethren in all things, so that He might become a merciful and faithful high priest before God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because He Himself suffered when tempted, He is able to help those who are tempted" (Heb 2:17-18).

John of Damascus says the same thing in the irmos of the resurrection canon in the first tone, addressing Christ with the words: "You alone know the weakness of human nature and, in compassion, took it upon Yourself; gird me with power from on high..." The Son, in the thought of the apostle Paul and of St. John, alone knows all our weakness, and therefore He is given the right to judge us: He Himself drank our cup to the bottom.