An address given to a church healing group, 17 March 2001
What I would like to do today is say a little about the theology of our ministry of healing and reconciliation. The role of theology is to articulate the meaning of our existence, and that means not simply the big questions – what is our place in the world? what is God like? – but also the small-scale questions, like: what is our healing group for? how should we move forward in this ministry? So what I will try to cover in this address is the meaning of what we do, when we lay hands on one another in the name of our Lord, and pray for healing and reconciliation.
“Is any among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church, and let them pray over him.”
The Epistle of James, 5.14
I have taken the quotation from James as my text, because, first of all, it is one of the clear scriptural foundations for our practice. We meet in the name of one who healed the sick, and as we have been instructed to love one another as he loved us, so too must we continue his ministry to the sick. The quotation also falls naturally into three parts, which are going to be the framework for my talk: Who are the sick? Who are the elders of the church? And how should we pray? At the end, I want to gather these elements together, and offer a theology of our ministry of healing and reconciliation. I should add at the beginning, that this address is meant to be a contribution to discussions, and not the final word. Theology is the product of a praying community, and it is the community that gives expression to the theology in their behaviour and actions. It is the practical application of words that gives relevance to theology.
Who are the sick?
In the New Testament, there is no division between physical and spiritual sickness. Consider a passage from early on in Jesus’ ministry. [Lk 5 17-26, Mk 2 1-1, Mt 9 1-8] This is where Jesus is teaching in a room, and the room is crowded out with all those who have come to hear his Word. And because there is such a press of space, a paralytic is lowered down into Jesus’ presence from above. Jesus says to the paralytic that his sins are forgiven – at this point no physical healing is offered. This saying of Jesus offends the Pharisees who are present, who consider it blasphemy for Jesus to be forgiving sins. Jesus then says, ‘that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins’ he tells the paralytic to get up and walk, at which point the paralytic is healed – and all were amazed and glorified God. There is much in this passage which could be drawn out – perhaps that is something that you would like to do individually during the quiet moments of today – but for my purposes the important point is the tying together of physical illness and spiritual sickness.
When we are talking about the healing ministry, then, we are talking about the most fundamental of sicknesses – our separation from God, our departure from Eden. The Christian claim is that this separation leads to a lessening of our physical well-being, that the life given to us from God, which dwells within us, which forms and shapes our lives, is frustrated and corrupted by our separation from God. In other words, by our sin. And this sin, which is our separation from God, has a large appetite that extends into our relationships with one another, causing us to become separate from one another, the broken fragments of the one Body.
Now, this could be taken to mean that if someone is ill, then they are sinful, and the illness is something that has been brought upon the person by their own actions. It can therefore be seen as the judgement of a wrathful God upon his errant children. This language has been heard in recent years in discussions over HIV and AIDS – it is a plague of Biblical proportions, sent by a vengeful deity angry at the transgressing of his moral law. That perspective is not a Christian perspective. When we address the suffering present in this world, we are running up against one of the harder mysteries of our existence. Why do bad things happen? In particular, why do bad things happen to good people? I do not have a straightforward answer to that sort of question. The answer that I stumble along with centres upon the nature of faith: that we have a choice between trusting that there is an answer, even if we cannot fully understand it in this world; or making the decision to say that there is no answer – which rejects God, and consequently rejects all value and meaning from our lives, falling into the abyss of nihilism. It seems to me that it is impossible to really live in that fashion – at most it is a decision to move passively through the corridors of this world, never looking up or engaging deeply with our existence. If we are to truly live – live in a way which reaches into the dark earth in which we are rooted, in a way which reaches up to the bright heavens for which we strive – then we have no option other than the way of faith.
When we are confronted with sickness, then, we are confronted with a mystery, something that we cannot fully understand or grasp, and something that, in consequence, draws us closer to God. It is not the case that all sickness is the result of human sin, which can be overcome by the resolute application of prescription confessions and absolutions. That is to take a model of technocratic efficiency as the way of faith, a modern idolatry. Some sickness, in God’s providence, will always remain out of our reach. We must allow that to teach us humility before God, so that we may say with Job, ‘Behold I am of small account; what shall I answer thee? I lay my hand on my mouth.’
Yet some sickness is the result of sin – both sin committed by the life of a person themselves, or by those with whom they are in relationship: their immediate family and loved ones, or those forebears whose legacy shapes and mis-shapes lives over generations. It seems to me that this is where our ministry lies – in healing and reconciliation for those whose lives are blighted in body mind and spirit, and who come to be made whole.
Who are the elders?
Which brings me to the second part of my address – for who is it to whom these people come? Who are the elders of the church? The church is in a sense the easy part of that question, for the church is the community formed by the resurrection of our Lord from the dead, the community constituted by that victory over death and sin, the community within which the message of the gospel resides. In other words, us. I don’t know about you, but I sometimes feel nervous when I consider our origin: that we have been formed and commissioned by this great breach in the world, when Jesus came again amongst his disciples, and was recognised in the breaking of the bread. I don’t feel up to carrying on that message. Yet Jesus himself chose the humble fishermen to transmit his message, not the high and mighty. So perhaps we might be bold, despite our shortcomings, and trust the Spirit to enable us to carry the message forward. For we don’t have to get it perfect – part of our message, after all, is that we are redeemed from our shortcomings.
So the church is the community of the resurrection, we who have been shaped by the events of two thousand years ago. The body of Christ, who meet in his name and partake of his life. Who are the elders? The literal translation, as I am sure many of you know, is presbyters – the priests. Those who have been acknowledged by the community and commissioned to exercise leadership. Yet, to make that simple equation, of elders to priests, is I feel to miss something important. For the essence of being an elder is this recognition and commissioning by the community, this acknowledgement of growth in the faith. For the exercise of leadership is a significant responsibility, which depends upon a mature faith to be sustainable.
This language of elders, then, does not refer to our chronological age – the number of years that we have grown through, but rather to the age of our soul, to our wisdom. To be an elder in this sense is to be mature in the faith, to have marinated in the faith for such a length of time that the flavour has sunk into the bones, and can therefore be brought out again into the community.
The church is the community of the resurrection, as I said before, and it carries a message – that God in Christ was reconciling the world to himself; that in Christ sin is overcome; that in Christ we see the way, the truth, and the life, and that life is available to us in all its fullness. A message of forgiveness for our sins. When Christ healed the paralytic, he first said to him that his sins were forgiven. When the prodigal son returns from feeding the pigs, his father comes out to greet him and welcome him before he has a chance to say any words. There is more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents. We are a community whose central claim is that God moves towards us, before we get a chance to even realise our problems, let alone come to begin working on them.
This perspective, this grace of forgiveness offered without qualification or prior regard, is the essence of our faith. The elders of our faith are those in whom this message has been distilled and matured so that it has become the essence of their nature. The medicine of the gospel has reached down and healed a person so thoroughly that the healing seeks further work, overflowing outwards into the life and witness of the believer, and drawing ever more people closer to the source of our life and healing. This is a grace, the free gift of God to his children, the life in which we are called to participate. As we grow in faith, we become bearers of that grace out into the world, ready to offer it to all who are in need.
How should we pray?
So when someone comes to the church, seeking healing and reconciliation, how should we pray? This is the point where the gospel message meets the world – where we are put to the test. How is our faith made present in the world?
I mentioned earlier that Jesus does not recognise the division between physical sickness and spiritual sickness. That is a division which is overcome in him. It is related to the more fundamental division between God and humanity, which is also overcome in him – a division brought about by sin, which separates humanity from God, and an overcoming by the God-man, the one who is both fully divine and fully human: the incarnate Word. Our message centres upon the incarnation, when God was revealed in human form. When we bring the gospel to bear – when we pray with someone who is sick, in other words – we too must be an incarnation of God’s love.
For our message of communion and reconciliation needs to be embodied if it is to take effect, just as the Word of God needed to be embodied if we were to recognise Him and be transformed by Him. This is why we have the laying on of hands as a necessary part of our prayers. This physical, embodied action is – in a very direct sense – the incarnation of the gospel, the embodiment of forgiveness. And as such, this action fits naturally in a Eucharistic context, where we meet the body of Christ.
The gospel that we proclaim is a bright and living fire, which burns out the darkness within us. As the gospel takes root in our hearts – as we know ourselves to be healed of our sins, brought closer to God, and enabled to participate in the true life that lightens every heart – so we can be bearers of that light into the world. When we pray, we come closer to God, we develop our relationship with him, and we are known and transformed by him. And prayer does not have to be a falling onto our knees and closing our eyes – although that is essential. It is also, for example, a study of scripture, taking that word of God into our hearts, allowing us to be transformed by its message. With all our prayer – whether we hold the suffering of the world before God in our intercessions, whether we stand before God alongside the broken in body, mind or spirit, or whether we ourselves are the broken ones, seeking God’s grace in our own lives – in all these contexts, the life of prayer offers the opportunity to transform our situations. We cannot know how the situation will be transformed – we cannot prejudge God’s intentions for our lives, or those who come to us seeking healing – but we can trust in the grace that has been given us, that if we come before God in prayer, we will be heard, and we will be sanctified by grace.
The laying on of hands, therefore, is an expression of our life in prayer. Our life in prayer is what enables us to mature in the faith, to grow more steadfast in our love, to become able to take the gospel into the world, where it can work its mysterious favour upon all with whom we have to do. If what we do is rooted in prayer, if we (to get really theological) are able to participate in the self-giving love of the Holy Trinity, then in our healing ministry we will manifest God’s love to the world, we will embody forgiveness.
Conclusion
For as I said earlier, what we do with theology only makes sense if it is acted out in our daily lives. What we do in our service of healing and reconciliation is incarnate the gospel, but that incarnation needs to work on us, moving into us as well as moving out from us. I know that many people have found participation in the service to be healing in this way, and it is certainly something that is natural and a real part of our ministry – we share in the ministry of the wounded healer, who died to free us from our sins.
Our participation in healing prayer, in the laying on of hands, is something that must also deepen our own faith, and call us forward to acknowledge and be healed of our own sin. Forgiveness is something that we must practice ourselves, and that is hard work. The service is the capstone of the ministry, but the foundations are our own lives. The foundations lie in our reactions to pain in our own life – the letting go of offence, the refusal to nurture anger or hold a grudge. To do this requires developing new habits and new casts of mind – to put on the armour of Christ, as Paul has it. Yet this is the new life which we are called to create as a church, a new living community which holds reconciliation at the centre of its life and witness. Just as our faith is a journey, not a destination, so also is the ministry of healing. May the risen Lord guide us on our journey, and enable us to be ministers of his grace. Amen.
(Prompted by reading the excellent book with this title by L Gregory Jones)