Today’s passage isn’t one that we encounter very often in the context of worship. It’s not in the Revised Common Lectionary at all, and even here in the Narrative Lectionary, it’s usually lumped together with the healing of a different, paralyzed man - a much better-known miracle that IS in the Revised Common Lectionary and usually gets all the attention. In fact, I had a lot of trouble finding ANY sources or commentaries that could provide insight into this story from the end of John 4. Which I think is unfair: why should this man and his son be neglected and forgotten? Sure, as a royal official, he was a Gentile at best and an instrument of Roman oppression at worst - either way, certainly not a member of Jesus’ community - but he was facing one of the most universal, human experiences there is: fear for the life of a loved one.
What I see here (and maybe you see the same thing) is a man desperate for something - anything - that would save his son. John doesn’t tell us exactly what this man says to persuade Jesus to help, but if you can put yourself in his shoes, you can probably begin to imagine what it might have been like. He may have tried to present his case in a calm, measured way, but I can almost guarantee that his voice was shaking and had an edge of panic to it. Can you imagine how this must have felt? How the sliver of hope that Jesus represented was nothing compared to the overwhelming logic that told him he was going to lose his son? How aware he must have been of the fact that every moment he spent with Jesus was robbing him of what could turn out to be his final moments with his son? Can you picture it?
Yet in spite of this man’s clear distress, Jesus doesn’t give the compassionate response that we might expect from him. “You people are all the same; you demand wonders and miracles as proof before you’re willing to believe anything,” he grumbles. As jarring as this response might sound to our ears, it *IS* consistent with Jesus’ message in John’s gospel. After all, Jesus later goes on to chastise “Thomas the doubter” in chapter 20 for that very same thing: refusing to believe in the resurrection without seeing the evidence for himself. It almost seems like here, Jesus is concerned about what will happen to his theological principles if he rewards this “bad behavior.”
If you were able to imagine what the man’s appeal to Jesus must have looked, sounded, and felt like, you’re probably not surprised by the way he responds to Jesus’ criticism here: “Sir - I don’t care about signs and wonders. That’s not why I’m here. Please, PLEASE, just help my son. That’s the only thing that matters to me.” This man isn’t trying to take advantage of Jesus; he isn’t trying to set up a “gotcha” moment or push his own agenda. Other people might have been, but not him. All he wanted was for his son to live.
It's difficult - or at least it is for me - to read a story about a man seeking what amounts to life-saving medical care and to not compare it to the current state of our own healthcare system. It’s bad enough that costs are rising steeply for everyone across the board, but these days, the situation is especially dire for those who rely on Medicaid to access medical care for their families. In the interest of preventing “waste, fraud, and abuse” and of mitigating budget shortfalls, both our national and state government are considering dramatic cuts in Medicaid funding right now.
This past Wednesday, more than 500 of the people who would be affected by these changes gathered in the Idaho statehouse to plead their case before lawmakers.[1] Just as we imagined the royal official doing, they tried to be calm and measured in their testimonies, but some of their voices were audibly shaking as they shared their stories. They spoke of their loved ones who would die without the medical equipment, therapies, and round-the-clock care that Medicaid makes possible for their families to afford. They begged for their loved ones to be seen as more than just a statistic that could save a little bit of money. They asked why their loved ones should have to pay with their lives for our society’s budgeting issues.
I’m sure that they went into this forum knowing exactly the sort of response they could expect - not just from the lawmakers themselves, but from their fellow citizens. They're the same sort of principle-based objections that Jesus raised: “You people are all the same, you refuse to take personal responsibility and expect handouts instead,” “If we give you help, you’ll just take advantage of it, and that’s not fair,” “We have to balance the budget one way or another.” For all of these objections, it’s important for us to remember that they don’t come out of nowhere. They reflect real concerns. Jesus was right - many people *DO* demand miraculous proof before they’re willing to believe, and that poses a serious problem for his larger mission. Those who argue for cuts to Medicaid and other healthcare are also right - these are expensive programs that some individuals inevitably take advantage of.
The difference, though, is that while Jesus’ concerns were absolutely valid, *he still chose to prioritize the child’s life over his principles*. He listened to the man, believed him, and provided the healing that his son so desperately needed - no questions asked. Jesus recognized what was at stake: if he healed the boy, there was a chance that Jesus might be taken advantage of. But on the other hand, if he’d uncompromisingly upheld his principles, a child would be dead. The choice was clear to him, as it should be to us: Jesus chose people over principles.[2]
Now, this isn’t always as straightforward a choice as Jesus makes it seem. It can be hard to accurately calculate the stakes when our perspective is limited to our small corner of the world. Maybe we really do believe that budget cuts are just a question of everyone tightening their belts a little bit instead of a life-and-death situation, because from the only perspective we can see - our own - that’s all it is. This human limitation is not our fault. But it *IS* our fault if we refuse to expand our understanding when other perspectives are made readily available to us.
That’s why it’s *SO* profoundly important to listen when others tell us about their own experiences - to listen AND believe. Jesus believed the man when he insisted that all he was after was healing for his son. As followers of Christ, we, too, are compelled to believe people when we hear them ask for help. Sure, it may mean that we get taken advantage of every once in a while, both as individuals and as a society. But if this choice also means that lives will be saved - even just one - don’t you think Jesus would say that it’s worth the risk?
But this choice goes beyond a basic cost/benefit analysis. When Jesus healed the official’s son, he didn’t just save a life - he turned their entire household into believers.[3] When we choose to prioritize people over principles in Christ’s name, we demonstrate something far more important than our sense of practicality or our administrative prowess. We demonstrate that compassion and strength are not mutually exclusive. We prove that, with a little bit of courage and empathy, a better world really is possible for all of us. When we choose to prioritize people over principles, we’re not only helping others; we’re actively evangelizing. This is exactly the kind of thing that makes it possible for people to believe that the Good News really IS good - the kind of thing that people want to be a part of.
We are a resurrection people who shouldn’t be afraid of taking risks for the sake of the Gospel message. So why would we prioritize practicality and prudence in our dealings with others? How can our compassion remain theoretical instead of an actual response to the real needs all around us? We wouldn’t, and it can’t. We are obligated by our faith to put people first in all aspects of our life - public, private, and everything in between. Therefore, let us be reckless and audacious with our love in Christ’s name, even when logic and our instincts tell us not to. People over principles: it’s how Jesus lived his life - so how can it be wrong? Amen.
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[1] https://www.ktvb.com/article/news/local/capitol-watch/hundreds-idahoans-speak-out-against-medicaid-cuts-statehouse/277-2394ae5a-3cee-44df-b226-2d0791240fcc
[2] Lest we think that this rule of thumb applies to Jesus but not to us, let’s take a moment to peek at Paul’s letter to the Philippians. In the second chapter, Paul makes it clear that Jesus’ high standard of compassion should be ours as well: “Instead of each person watching out for their own good, watch out for what is better for others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” Hear that one more time: Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus. We, like Jesus, have larger concerns and complex situations to address, but at the end of the day, our priorities must match Christ’s, and those priorities are always, ALWAYS, to love and care for others as we would ourselves. We help first; there will always be time to ask questions later once their needs are met.
[3] One of the things I love about this story is its wonderfully ironic ending. Since Jesus is justifiably concerned about people needing “miraculous signs and wonders” in order to believe, he heals the man’s son with as little fanfare as possible (after all, sometimes it’s possible to prioritize people over principles without abandoning the principle entirely). So this sign wound up looking neither wondrous nor miraculous - a skeptic might have even brushed it off as a coincidence. Yet this simple act of helping one person in a tangible way turned out to be a powerful form of evangelism: even without a flashy display or magic words, the royal official and his entire household came to believe in Jesus. Precisely *BECAUSE* the man wasn’t blinded by a spectacle demonstrating what Jesus could DO, he was able to see who Jesus really WAS - the embodiment of God’s compassion, mercy, and love - and to ground his faith in that.
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