Wilt Thou Be Made Whole?

Christ healing the Paralytic at the Pool of Bethesda by Bartolome Esteban Murillo

This is the question, the offer, Jesus extends to the man who laid by the pool, Bethesda, for 38 years waiting for the waters to move, so he could be healed of his infirmities. And it is what Jesus is asking us, offering us, this very moment.

Some translations use “healed” but I like the KJV word “whole” much better. Most instances of physical healing in the New Testament can easily be interpreted as metaphors for the spiritual healing and resurrection Christ performs in our hearts in rebirth and regeneration.

Jesus offers us spiritual healing at all times. And in that, he is inviting us, just as he invited the man at Bethesda, to become whole. He is offering the final and perfect integration of our trinitarian being, for eternity, and the earthly means by which he intends to make us whole: the Holy Spirit, the Church, and the Eucharist. He has also given us his infallible Word to minister to us and to help us know him.

Peter Kreeft is responsible for bringing this idea of trinitarian life and being into my own thoughts. We are made up of body, mind, and spirit, and to actualize—to develop into the person God had in mind when he created us—these parts must all be tended and nurtured; cultivated. Integration of these parts, through the work of the Holy Spirit, and through our disciplines and practices, is health and wholeness.

In his book, Suicide and the Soul, James Hillman notes that the natural impulse of living things is to cling to life—to want and will to live. He explains how in taking one’s own life, there is a great deal of overriding that is done to repress the impulse for life. A great tragedy, to be sure.

Unfortunately, the will to live, spiritually speaking, isn’t quite as strong as our will to live physically. Putting habits into place that preserve our spiritual life and keep us spiritually healthy are not always priorities. (I’m talking to myself here.)

Maybe we neglect our spiritual health and wholeness because we can’t see physical signs of deterioration like we can when we are physically unwell. Skin discoloration; loss of muscle tone and strength; puffiness or heartburn. Achy joints. When we feel or see these things in our bodies, we know our physical health is not at its peak.

Signs of spiritual sickness look like a lack of love and a lack of peace.

You’re quick tempered and easily irritated. You’re selfish. You almost never have a good word about anyone. Everyone else is the problem. You cease to steward your material resources well. You neglect intentional time in prayer, study, and contemplation. Maybe you even engage in self-destructive behaviors. Maybe those behaviors hurt other people, too.

And you hardly ever think about God.

If a thought about God creeps in, you feel intense guilt or shame, anger, or ambivalence. You want to hide. Or rage. Either way, you want to get the thought out of your mind as quickly as possible. You tell yourself that God either doesn’t or can’t love you.

And you remain unhealed. Un-whole.

Could you picture yourself by the pool at Bethesda? You need a miracle. You’ve suffered so long. You have no peace and no quality of life. You feel you have nothing to offer the world except your sickness.

Now, imagine Jesus is asking you, “Wilt thou be made whole?” In the question, he is offering you life. He is giving you the grace to be whole.

He asks you this because he loves you so deeply—because he wants to make you whole.

Our spiritual healing is the beginning of wholeness. The other parts of ourselves respond to the inner-workings of our heart, the well-spring of life.

Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, know that Christ Jesus is the miracle worker by the pool at Bethesda, and he comes to you now—he sees all your sickness and he is, at all times, with deep compassion, asking if you’ll be made whole.

Wilt thou?

Will you?