Good morning, brothers and sisters. To start, my talk, I would
first like to share a story about my grandfather. My grandfather was a D-Day veteran
who landed on Normandy beach 75 years ago this year. Several weeks after D-Day,
he was hit by a landmine, forcing him into rehabilitation for two years. Most
of his wounds were fixed through surgery, but there was one wound that he had
to bear for the rest of his life: he was left blind, and he wore glass eyes for
the next 60 plus years.
I’ll return to his story later, but like my grandfather, we
are in a mortal experience that will inevitably wound us at times. Like a
landmine that seems to come out of nowhere, we can be also be wounded from
events outside of our control. I’ve thought and prayed a lot about what to
speak about today, and today, I would like to talk about Christ as the master healer,
and how He can alleviate, restore, and mend our mortal wounds.
What does it mean when we talk of Christ as the master
healer? Fiona and Terryl Givens, eminent Mormon scholars, explain that when the
Bible was translated into English, the Greek word Sodzo, was translated as “to save.”
However, sodzo is used in the original Greek text when Christ made the blind
man see, and when he cured the woman from her blood condition of 12 years. Thus,
the Givenses point out that “to save” and “to heal” are the virtually the same
word in the Bible. So, as you do the New Testament reading from Come Follow Me
this year, and you come across a passage that talks about Christ saving us or
others in the story, I would encourage you to replace “Save” with “Heal” and see
how that adds another layer of richness to your study. What I appreciate about
this insight is that as we talk about Christ being the savior of the world, linguistically
speaking, we can also call him the Healer of the World.
As we come to learn about Christ in the scriptures, I think
that elements of Middle Eastern culture can also aid us in understanding how
Christ is the master Healer. In his essay on the Atonement, Hugh Nibley talks
about the cultural tradition of the Arab kafata.
In this context, a person who was seeking refuge or was in grave danger would
enter into the tent of a great Arab chief, and cry out, “I am thy suppliant.” In
the spirit of true hospitability, the chief would then put the hem of his robe
around the person in danger, embrace him, and then declare that the person was
under his protection.
Not surprisingly, like the Arab chief embracing a person in
need of help and protection, our scriptures
are replete with images of the Savior’s arms being open,
extended, and stretched out. His
arms are described as mighty and holy, arms of mercy, arms of safety, arms
of love, and arms “lengthened out all the day long.” Probably my
most favorite scriptures of the Savior’s arms is when Nephi states, “I am encircled about eternally
in the arms of his love.” To me, this scripture provides
the best imagery of how Christ heals us—his arms wrapped around us in a warm, loving
embrace.
My grandfather talked about feeling the love
of God frequently, as he worked to strengthen his faith in Christ, while assimilating
into a world of complete darkness. Towards the end of his life, he stated that
being blind was one of his greatest blessings, as he had the opportunity to see
people as Christ did—he wasn’t able to see or judge others’ physical appearance
or socio-economic status. In that sense, my grandfather’s condition, though
never cured, was alleviated through the Savior’s love.
So, how can we feel and be healed by this
divine love? Two years ago, there was a General Conference talk called, “Repentance
is Always Positive.” I love the title of that talk. If we think about Christ’s
healing as a warm, loving embrace, repentance moves us towards Christ’s arms of
mercy that are forever extended, wanting to receive us. Elder Anderson talks
about repentance being less of a chastisement, but rather, a beckoning, loving
invitation to reach a higher quality of life. In that sense, we all can repent
daily to feel Christ’s embracing love more acutely in our lives.
We just took the Sacrament, which is also a time
for us to heal and feel Christ’s love. I love this quote by Elder Melvin J.
Ballard, stated, “I am a witness that there is a spirit attending the administration
of the sacrament that warms the soul from head to foot; You feel the wounds of
the spirit being healed, and the load being lifted.” Indeed, the Sacrament can
provide the healing balm for our spiritual wounds.
How else can we be healed by Christ’s love? This
week, I have also thought a lot about the centurion who approaches Christ to heal
his servant. Interestingly, he asks Christ merely to “speak the word only, and my servant
shall be healed.” The centurion knew that the word of Christ alone was
powerful enough to heal his servant. In a similar vein, the words of Christ in
the scriptures can be a source of healing for us as well. Another scripture I
have been thinking about is from Psalms, where the author says, “O Lord my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me.”
I love this idea of prayer being a source of healing for us.
This week, our Come Follow Me reading included Matthew
11:28-30, where Christ invites us to take his yoke upon him, which I interpret
as taking on the covenant of Christ. This led me to further think about what
type of covenants we actually make, which led me to Mosiah chapter 18. Here Alma
introduces the baptismal covenants as to “bear another’s burdens,” “mourn with
those that mourn,” and comfort those that stand in need of comfort.” Christ, as the master healer, is making it clear
that we need to heal those around us. As we try to collaborate with Christ in
the healing process, we can also find the healing that we desperately need.
One of my favorite examples of this concept occurs in the English
novel, Adam Bede, by George Eliot. In this story, a female preacher named Dinah
seeks to feel what she calls the Divine Presence in her life. Despite her best
efforts at writing sermons, and interacting with her congregation, the nature
of the Divine Presence seems to elude her. One day, she descends into a dark,
dank prison to visit a female prisoner who has just committed a heinous crime. When
the female prisoner asks why Dinah is there, Dinah responds, “Don’t you think
that I wouldn’t come to you in trouble?...I’m come to be with you—to stay with
you—to be your sister to the last.” As Dinah mourns with and comforts this
prisoner, she finally discovers what she has been searching for her entire life.
The narrator says that Dinah “felt the Divine Presence more and more, nay, as
if she herself were a part of it.” It was not until Dinah chose to descend to
another’s level and even put herself in unfamiliar terrain, that she was able
to truly experience holiness, and even find the healing that she had yearned for.
Similarly, I think that to truly mourn, comfort, and bear
the burden of another, will involve coming to their level and venturing, or
even descending, into unfamiliar territory. If we do have to descend to a
terrain that may feel uncomfortable, we can be reminded of the Savior’s words
to Joseph Smith in Liberty Jail, when he reminded Joseph that “The Son of Man
hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than he?” I do know that mourning,
comforting, and taking on other’s burdens can be a beautiful experience, as we literally
collaborate with our Savior to heal our fellow men and women. Our embrace can be
the Savior’s embrace for them.
I want to share one final story. A few years ago, I had an
experience that I never thought I could recover from. I remember receiving a blessing
shortly after that stated that God, Christ, and angels were weeping for me. I
know that as we think of Christ’s healing as a loving, eternal embrace, there
are often tears from, not one, but both parties. We talk of taking on covenants
to develop a relationship with our Savior. I also want to add that Christ truly
descended below all things to develop a true, empathetic relationship with us.
That is why he is the master Healer.
IJCA.
