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While he was clinging to Peter and John, all the
people ran together to them at the so-called Portico of Solomon, full of
amazement.
Acts
3:11
 Yes, sometimes healing a beggar means you’re going to have a
beggar clinging to you. It’s one of the risks you take that helping a person
means you may be seen with that person, and that he or she may even want to (gasp!) speak with you.
Alms for the Poor
It took three denials and the crow of a rooster, but by the
time of Acts 3:11 we read about a Peter to whom Jesus had finally gotten
through. Peter finally got it. I think John probably always got it, but that’s
neither here nor there. What we have are two men of faith who, walking through
a temple gate, encounter a lame beggar who looks to them and asks for a handout.
Alms for the poor and all that. Imagine this beggar’s surprise when, instead of
alms, he gets the use of his legs back and has to find another line of work.
And possibly a bathtub.
Alms for the Poor in Hygiene
Now, I’m not going to speculate overmuch on hygiene here,
but there is a distinct possibility that our formerly lame friend hadn’t
showered in some time. We’re talking about a world in which bathing was more of
an event than any sort of habit, and where even the wealthiest of people never
really smelled that pleasant. I would imagine that a lame beggar might have a
pretty pungent bouquet, a pong that would no doubt make a skunk think twice and
a camel run for cover. I can’t imagine what his breath must have been like, given
the ancient world’s lack of Testamints.
Fumes and Spittle
I wonder if, as he was dodging the beggar’s fumes and
spittle, Peter ever wished he’d avoided the whole affair. There he was, walking
through the Beautiful Gate (ironic, no?) and minding his own business, when he
and Brother John were accosted by a bundle of rags asking for money. It’s
happened to all of us, right? Sure it’s just for coffee, buddy. Peter could
have maintained his dignity and said “here’s a buck, go buy yourself a falafel,”
but he didn’t. He could have done what we’ve all done at one time or another
and kind of gave that straight-ahead look, as if there was something amazing
off in the distance, all the while talking to John about the weather or the
time he saw Pontius Pilate trip over a Damascan labour gang. He could have
exercised any number of options, none of which would have made for good
scripture:
But Peter said, “Hey man, I don’t have any cash
unless you can break a twenty, and we both know you can’t do that, right? Ha
ha! But I’m hearing you brother, and I know you’re down on your luck, so what I
do have I give to you. Here, have some gum. It’s cherry!”
But none of which would have gotten him arrested, either.
You heal a guy in front of the authorities, all in the name of somebody those
same authorities just nailed to a tree not that long ago, and you’re going to
the Big House. The Big House in ancient Jerusalem
was unpleasant.
Pete the Wet Sock
I wonder if Peter reached into his pocket as he languished
in that cell, if he just reached in and pulled out a buck or two and asked
himself “Why? Why do I have to be so nice? And why do I smell like a wet sock?”
Probably not. Peter was convicted. Peter knew from the Man
Himself, the very Son of Man, that the true measure of a person was in the
heart. Peter didn’t see a lame beggar or some decrepit soul in need of pity, he
saw a man, an equal who just needed some help. I know John felt that way, too. I
know John would have smacked Peter upside the head at the first mention of gum
or falafel.
In the Spirit
I want to be like Peter. Wait a minute, that’s not true.
Peter was too impetuous, always upsetting people and getting smacked upside the
head. I want to be like John. I want to take what the Good Book has taught me
and I want to apply it like Peter and John did that day.
I often tell myself I can’t be like those guys, but I know
I’m lying. I can be exactly like
those guys. After all, true healing isn’t physical, is it? A body may be
broken, but if it contains a beautiful spirit it’s uplifting, wondrous, and inspirational.
A perfect body with a broken spirit, though, is a tragic thing indeed. The real
tragedy is that there are a lot more broken spirits in this world than there
are broken bodies.
But there’s good news; I have the power to heal the spirit.
We all do. It doesn’t take any education or magic fingertips, it just takes a
good ear and a willingness to see into the heart.
So, here’s hoping that one day I can overcome my fear and
let that beggar cling to me.
Here’s hoping.
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