I don’t think I am alone in sometimes finding it difficult to recognize God’s presence in my life. This reality was particularly brought home late this past summer while visiting Israel, Jordan, and Egypt with my mom.

In sweltering temperatures, drenched in sweat I felt awe and amazement as we visited Mt Nebo, the Western Wall, and the Garden of Gethsemane—but also an odd sense of emptiness at places where I most “expected” to feel a sense that “Jesus really was here,” such as the Church of the Nativity and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was doing something wrong.

Next up was the Pools of Bethesda, an archaeological site. I was hopeful that without the crowds, enormous vaulted ceilings, or vendors, I would find what I had been looking for.

Most scholars felt that the pool or five porticos were allegorical until archaeologists found a pool with five porticos near the Sheep’s Gate in Jerusalem. According to tradition, Mary was born in Bethesda and there is a church dedicated to her mother St . Anne nearby.

Descending the metal staircases into the site, I could imagine the water swirling, rushing, and gurgling. Standing in the scorching heat for a few hours gave me a bit of a sense of what it was like to be in the man’s position, baking in the sun day after day, trying to reach the pool only to be pushed aside.

While I certainly could feel God’s presence at the site, I also realized my approach had been wrong---I had been looking for Jesus’ presence, when it had been around me all along. 

Indeed, in today’s Gospel, the man is healed, but did not recognize Jesus.

I’ve always been struck by this detail because it varies from so many other accounts of miracles---the Canaanite woman, Jairus the synagogue official, and the woman suffering from hemorrhages recognized Jesus and approached him seeking healing for themselves or a loved one.

Hearing this, we might be tempted ask the man at the Pools---“How could you NOT recognize Jesus when he was standing right in front of you?!”

But if we ask this question to ourselves (as I certainly did while standing at the Pools), we might have more compassion for the man.

When we feel “paralyzed,” it can sometimes be difficult to find God’s presence in our lives. And yet, God is always there, waiting for us to recognize his presence.

This leads us to the next question Jesus asked the man: “Do you want to be made well?”

We might be tempted to respond “Why are you asking this?! Of course he wants to be made well!”

If we step back, we might realize we don’t know the answer.

Does the man want to be healed? Or do we think he wants to be healed?

When we are faced with a problem or encounter someone struggling, are we quick to offer solutions we think are best? Or do we check first with those involved to see what is actually needed?

It would be understandable if the man responded with something to the effect of “Nothing can be done!”

Instead, the man expressed his need for help—that he could not get to the healing water on his own. And because of his faith, he is healed.

When we feel “paralyzed,” do we recognize our reliance on God and approach him for help?

If we do, are we willing to listen? Do we actually want to be made well?

We are called to place our trust in God, relinquish control, and realize that we cannot do this alone (easier said than done!). However, we cannot sit on the sidelines and expect God to fix everything for us--though that would be great.

We play a role in this process.

God is always present in our lives---in places we might expect like churches or the archeological site of the Pools of Bethesda, and in less expected ones. But we have to recognize this—which can be hard to do when we feel “paralyzed” or are encountering difficulties.

Like the man who is healed, we have to be willing to trust in God—and to grasp an outstretched hand when we see one— even if it seems like one has not been extended to us in a long time.

We must want to be made well.