[ p. 95 ]
NOT only was Jesus the Great Teacher; he was the Good Physician. Even those who stumble at other miracles have reached the point of accepting the accounts of his healing mission, however they may explain the facts. Indeed, it could hardly be otherwise, if we are to preserve any living portrait of Christ; for the records of his gracious deeds run so closely through the gospel narrative that they are like threads woven in the cloth which cannot be cut away without destroying the garment.
The picture is clear. Jesus went about the towns and villages and through the countryside of Galilee restoring into harmony with the beautiful world about him the sin-sick souls and disease-laden bodies of those who came to him for help. It was indeed a beautiful land then, though afterward Turkish rule desolated it and its villages became filthy to a degree unimaginable in our Lord’s day and under the sanitary regulations of the Mosaic law. To most of those who came to see him, Jesus was first known as “The Healer.”
And many came, attracted by his fame. The demands upon his skill spread like wildfire. Everywhere the sick came with their calls upon his sympathy and vitality. His patients were of all classes, all disorders, [ p. 96 ] all shades of faith, all degrees of gratitude and ingratitude. They crowded upon him till he hardly had time to eat or to sleep.
And what a list we have of his cures! The man in the country of the Gerasenes whose “other self” cried out that his name was “Legion,” as if a great regiment of spirits held him in possession; the blind and dumb man, suffering also from epileptic fits; the boy at the foot of the Transfiguration Mount who fell in convulsions, often tumbling into the fire or into the water; others of whom no particulars are given. How characteristic of a scene of today is the story of the man in the synagogue at Nazareth who suddenly cried out: “Let us alone; what have we to do with thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth? Art thou come to destroy us?” Was he perhaps a religious fanatic, or an epileptic, taken to public worship instead of being sent to a state hospital?
In other than mental sicknesses the list is equally impressive. The man with the withered hand; Peter’s wife’s mother; the woman with the issue of blood; the centurion’s servant; the helpless paralytic let down through the roof; the lepers; the blind man (or were there two?) at Jericho; the daughter of the SyroPhcenician woman on his only recorded trip outside the borders of his own land. In some cases he encouraged their own will power, as when he said to a crippled man, “Stretch out thy hand!” At other times he emphasized the need of faith : [1] “Your faith has saved you, go in peace.” Now and then we read of sickness [ p. 97 ] that seems to be associated with sin. Is it not so associated today? Why plunge into questions of sex morality to answer? So we have a striking case where the Master first declared, “Thy sins are forgiven thee,” before going on to say, “Arise and walk.”
No wonder that in Gennesaret they “ran through the whole district, and began to carry about on their pallets all who were sick, when they heard where he was, and wherever he entered into villages, or cities, or in the country, they put down the sick in the streets, and besought him that they might be allowed to touch if it were but the border of his garment.” And no wonder, with power like his, and faith like theirs, that “as many as touched him were made whole.”
How did Jesus regard these cures? In general he tended to minimize them. Although his pity forbade him to refuse aid to those who crowded about him, he was reluctant to press overmuch his healing powers. Soon after he began his teaching, the inhabitants of Capernaum suddenly discovered his gifts, and instantly he was deluged with applicants. “The whole city was gathered at the door.” He labored over the sufferers until darkness drove the importunate crowd home, intending to return the next day. Jesus, however, resolved that there was to be no other such day; he rose before dawn and left the city. His immediate disciples discovered him in a lonely place, sunk in deep prayer, [2] and they tried to bring him back. He refused curtly: “We will go into the other towns that I may [ p. 98 ] preach; I left Capernaum because preaching there has become impossible.” Afterward it became a common thing for him to warn those whom he healed to say nothing about it—instructions that were too frequently disregarded.
The reason for this course is obvious. Had he allowed himself to become merely a “miracle man,” the purpose of his life would have been frustrated; it would have been impossible to keep alive his own contacts with the Father or to deepen the communion with his disciples. It always disappointed him to find that people came to him primarily as a healer. It made him feel how few there were who really cared for the good news he brought or for the Kingdom. So he absolutely refused to perform any work save as he was moved thereto by the spirit of mercy. The Pharisees were always demanding of him “a sign”; even Herod hoped, on one occasion, to see some miracle wrought by him, but that was not the way he desired to win adherence.
None the less, Jesus did not look upon the opportunity for such healings with indifference. He would not work a cure to prove his claims, but the cures, when worked, could at least point the minds of observers in the right direction. On a brief visit to the east side of the Sea of Galilee he relieved a sick man, and on this occasion he did not command silence. The man wished to “follow him,” but Jesus pointed him to a more immediate duty: “Go, tell your friends what great things God has done for you.” In this region Jesus had no intention of preaching, and so there was [ p. 99 ] no danger of having his work submerged by requests for cures; on the contrary, knowledge of his power might very well stir up curiosity, and so induce the dwellers in that district to make the journey into Galilee to see and hear him. Again, when John the Baptist sent disciples to ask, “Art thou he that cometh, or should we look for another?” he sent back the message, “The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead [3] are raised up.” In addressing a man like John, who, great as he was, still adhered to the outlook of the Old Testament, Jesus used arguments that John could best understand. But for the climax he reserved the work that he himself counted most important—“The poor have good tidings preached to them.”
We should notice, moreover, that Jesus recognized that others as well as he could effect cures. There were certain “sons” of the Jews who had some success in what the language of the times called “casting out demons,” and he even appealed to the experience of these “sons” to support him in an argument. Yet their success and his were not really comparable; his was so overwhelming that it could be only described as being “by the finger of God.” So irresistible, in fact, was his triumph, that everyone ought to see that new and strange powers were at work in the world: “The Kingdom of God has come upon you.” This is as near as Jesus ever came to treating his cures as “signs.”
[ p. 100 ]
How are we to think about these works of healing”? In the first place, of course, modern readers are apt to be puzzled by the reference to demons. Here, naturally, our Evangelists [4] are using the terminology of their own day, when the belief was general that mental and even bodily diseases were to be ascribed to malignant spirits. This is in line with God s plan. A medical lecture in the terms of a modern psychopathologist would not have conveyed anything to the minds of the people of that age. The Bible does not teach science, it teaches religion. Mankind never has been relieved of the necessity of investigation and discovery and never will be. We are free spirits seeking for truth, never empty receptacles to be filled automatically. [5]
We may observe, in addition, that even the nonmental diseases are described for us by persons whose terminology was entirely that of the people of Galilee, not that of scientific modern diagnosticians. Consequently, we are not surprised when we hear that some of the patients [6] were “moonstruck,” and even when we meet such recognizable terms as “palsy,” “dropsy,” or even “leprosy” we are not much the wiser as to the exact nature of the ailments. Certainly we are in no [ p. 101 ] position to divide the diseases into “functional,” which could be healed by suggestion, and “organic,” which probably could not be reached by this means—although this is something that we do not really know. There is, therefore, no point in undertaking an analysis of the various cures in order to decide how much “natural” or “supernatural” power was needed in each case. As has been said before, even those who stumble at other miracles have reached the point of accepting— at least in general—the accounts of Jesus’ healing mission. There are too many parallels from both ancient and modern times, too many cases whose authenticity is impregnable, to prevent acceptance.
What deductions are we to draw from this fact*? Certainly that in studying Jesus we are in the presence of a unique and dominating personality, whose success in relieving distress—mental distress, in particular— was extraordinary. His own interpretation of his powers will probably lead us, as it led him, to think of special endowments from God for a new and wholly revolutionary work. But he never treats his cures as ends in themselves; at the utmost they may arouse in us sympathetic curiosity, and so quicken our interest in his teaching.
There is something more important than bodily health—health of spirit—and we do well to remember that Jesus plainly implied this in the economy he exercised in the use of his healing gifts. The purpose of the Christian religion is not to make life easier, but to make men brave to endure. Faith is not given that all pain may be removed and perfect peace secured; its [ p. 102 ] fruit is the patient bearing of sorrow. Probably the fact of pain—sin, suffering, sorrow—is the outstanding obstacle to faith in a loving God. Jesus gave no easy solution of the problem. But he did show how to face suffering and sorrow. On occasion, also, he lifted the burden for some. His followers must be exercising the same ministry of mercy; but they, too, should remember that there are deeper wants than the need for physical comfort, bodily health, and happiness; and even in helpful service, which is the fruit of Christian love, they should seek to satisfy the real hungers of the human heart.
Indeed, we are even told that at Nazareth he “could do no mighty work there, because of their lack of faith.” ↩︎
May not we suppose that this prayer was for strength to resist the appeals of the unfortunate ones, that he might have time for the more important work? ↩︎
Possibly some of these terms may be partly figurative, including the ‘spiritually blind,” etc., but the literal sense is present also. ↩︎
Not including John, who docs not mention this class of cures. ↩︎
At the same time, we may well wonder if some of our modern explanations of mental disease may not sound as crude to the scientist of two thousand years hence as the theory of demons does to the scientists of today. The effect of mind upon matter has always been a mystery. Men talk much about it, but no one understands it, not even men of science. They may tell us about dual personalities and the subliminal self, about various “complexes” and neurasthenic delusions, and yet the mystery remains. The mind itself is a mystery. ↩︎
St. Matthew iv: 24, compare xvii: 15. The Revised Version translates by “epileptic.” ↩︎