Dropsy is the affliction of excess fluid buildup in
the body – usually in the extremities.
In the extreme cases, a person may be grotesque in appearance – and so
people feel uncomfortable in their presence.
Jesus takes this opportunity to present the man to the leading Pharisee and
guests – and asks whether it is permissible to heal him on the Sabbath. The Pharisee, instead of saying anything, is
quiet – probably avoiding even making eye contact with the man.
Jesus has to remind him that the man
is someone’s son – he is not a monster – he is loved by his family and friends,
and he loves them back. Most
importantly, Jesus loves him because he was created in the image of God.
GK Chesterton, in one of his famous
essays – made a case for the defense of skeletons. He says people are afraid of skeletons, but
they ought not be – each of us has one very close to us – without it, we would
be a formless pile of flesh.
It is not death, that the skeleton
reminds us of, but rather indignity and ugliness – we fear this grotesque
creatures that lies hidden beneath our skin, hidden beneath our vanity.
He criticizes those who say that the
value and fascination of what we call Nature lie in her beauty. This he says, is only one of her charms – and
almost accidental. “The highest and most
valuable quality in Nature is not her beauty, but her generous and defiant
ugliness. Has the poet, for whom Nature
means only roses and lilies ever heard a pig grunting?” And in a brilliant line, he says: beneath my
vanity “the bones of my skull beneath it are laughing forever.”
Having a good sense of our interior
ugliness – both physically and spiritually is a good lesson in humility –
perhaps a redeeming quality for those who will don monster masks tonight. It was vanity and pride which silenced the
Pharisee in the presence of the malformed.
If we are humble, we know our ugliness, then no ugliness will scare us –
not dropsy or skeletons. We will even
see the face of God in the grotesque.
The Skeleton, by G.K. Chesterton
Chattering finch
and water-fly
Are not merrier than I;
Here among the flowers I lie
Laughing everlastingly.
No; I may not tell the best;
Surely, friends, I might have guessed
Death was but the good King's jest,
It was hid so carefully.
Are not merrier than I;
Here among the flowers I lie
Laughing everlastingly.
No; I may not tell the best;
Surely, friends, I might have guessed
Death was but the good King's jest,
It was hid so carefully.