May 31, 2026 - Trinity Sunday: What Now?

May 31, 2026 Trinity Sunday
Ladue Chapel Presbyterian Church
John 5:1-9   Isaiah 65:17-25
“What Now?
 Carol DeVaughan

I appreciated Doug’s comments about Trinity in this week’s Chapel Bell. And while I don’t want to focus on the theological concept today, I do want us to keep in mind one aspect of Trinity – that of the community illustrated within the Godhead.

I have had many conversations over the past weeks and months about the importance of community within our faith lives. My sermon at Presbytery a couple of weeks ago centered around our drawing together and working together to strengthen ourselves and our witness and effectiveness toward God’s vision for the world.

Before the pandemic, we took “in-person-ness” for granted; since the pandemic we continue to struggle with concepts of community in virtual spaces. There certainly are advantages – those who are physically unable still can participate; travel time and expense are much lessened. But for me – as a total extrovert – I need people! And I would argue the church was created for community; God did not intend isolation.

Isaiah’s lovely image of God’s vision is just that – God’s vision of a world in which all are united in diversity and interdependence. Even our disabled friend in John’s story is out in public – for 38 years!

Thirty-eight years back from today would be 1988. Some of you may not even have been born then. But if you were, think back to that year and all the years since. What if your life had been on hold since 1988. What would be missing? I didn’t start seminary until the next year, so my present life wouldn’t exist. Jobs, marriages, children – none of that. Just lying there waiting for the next day and the next and the next.

A bit of background to set our stage – the Pool of Bethzatha, or Bethsaida, lay along the main path leading to the Temple. Around it were 5 porticos or waiting rooms, in which people with various ailments would lie. The legend was that an angel would come periodically and stir the waters, and the fortunate one or so who got in first while the water was stirring would be healed. So, naturally you wanted to be in front of the crowd to be able to get in first.

But our friend had been lying there for 38 years and hadn’t made it yet. When Jesus asks the man what’s going on, the man gets pretty defensive. He has whining down to an art! “No one will help me. If I try to get into the water, some meanie pushes in front of me, and I miss my chance.” And apparently in 38 years he hasn’t gotten any better at it.

In fact, just lying there is an option. Maybe he has developed a community of like-minded complainers. Maybe he has become the local expert on the system. He recognizes the regulars. He knows who could be trusted. He knows who could be bribed, which employee might be willing to assist in moving a mat a bit closer, especially for a sizeable tip. He could tell you which seller of animals had never had one of his animals rejected by the priests. He might even have worked out the probabilities of when the angel might show up to stir the waters.

He could probably recognize new faces, first time visitors. Probably was seeing the second generation of healing-seekers. He could offer insight from his years of observation on the best way to get to the front. His problem had become his lifestyle. He had built his life on being the victim, on being unwell.

And so Jesus’ question to him, which on the surface might seem absurd, is in fact the correct question – “Do you want to be healed?” Do you really want something to change?

A doctor talks with someone who has a health problem exacerbated by smoking or other unhealthy life habits – “Do you want to be well?” A counselor works with a couple who keep repeating their mistakes with each other – “Do you want a healthy relationship?” A teacher talks to a student who has failed a test and admits not studying for it at all – “Do you want to pass?” Do you want to be made well or whole?

Often our answer is an unqualified “Yes!” But too often it is a whine or an excuse: “Lord, I’ve been lying here for 38 years and no one will help me, or someone always gets in my way. I can’t help it; it’s not my fault.”

Sometimes our answer is driven by fear that if we give up “the way we’ve always done it,” the system and patterns we know, even when we know them to be faulty, we may be worse off than we are now. Or if we “rock the boat” we might lose our community.

We might decide that just lying there, being inactive, being passive, is an acceptable way to live into God’s new heaven and new earth, God’s promise of life abundant. Or the seductive idea that God will take care of everything for us.

What if we decided we have a role in stirring the waters? What if we are part of God’s plan for healing in the world?

There’s a story of an urban church with a stained-glass window showing an elaborate depiction of the golden new Jerusalem nestled in the clouds. Some members of the congregation thought the window should be taken out because it was too much of a contrast with their inner-city context of slums and drugs and poverty and violence.

But then they realized they could see their actual city buildings through the overlay of the vision of the Holy City.

And they began to talk about how that vision of God’s new Jerusalem could come to earth to dwell with humans. What should they be doing to live in that reality, to work toward that reality?

We need the hope and vision, and yes, the energy, of God’s reign to help us through day-to-day living. But it must be more than a passive hope, more than pie in the sky by and by, more than lying alongside the healing pool waiting for someone to notice. We need one another, and others need us. We need to appreciate others in all their diversity, their oddness, their differences from us – that’s the basic foundation of community, of God’s vision for the way the world is supposed to work.

We have the invitation and the promise of Creator, Savior, Spirit to take up our mat and walk.

Do you want to be made well – or do you want to just lie there?