The Healer’s Art

Exactly two years ago this month, I attended my daughter’s graduation when she received her bachelor of science in nursing. So graduates, I know something of your relief and rightful sense of accomplishment. Congratulations to you! Parents and families, I also know of your sense of pride and relief in the accomplishment of your graduates. I extend my hearty congratulation to you as well.

Healer’s Art

I want to talk today about “the healer’s art.” Some years ago, Brigham Young University’s College of Nursing adopted this phrase, “the healer’s art,” to describe what it is about. The phrase comes from the hymn “Lord, I Would Follow Thee.” I love the text of this hymn. The verse from which this phrase is taken reads as follows:

I would be my brother’s keeper;
I would learn the healer’s art.
To the wounded and the weary
I would show a gentle heart.
I would be my brother’s keeper—
Lord, I would follow thee.¹

The healer, in the context of this hymn, is Jesus. My question today is, “What can be learned from Jesus about the healer’s art that would be helpful to you as nurses?” Let’s look at three New Testament stories of healing to explore lessons for nurses about the healer’s art as Jesus practiced it: the parable of the good Samaritan, the man at the pool of Bethesda, the woman with an issue of blood.

Good Samaritan

The Parable of the Good Samaritan was drawn out of the Savior in response to a question by a lawyer seeking to trap Jesus. Having been told that the greatest commandments were to love God and neighbor, in Luke 10:29 the lawyer baited Jesus by saying, “who is my neighbour?”

And Jesus answering said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee. Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves? And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise. (Luke 10:30–37)

Many lessons may be drawn from this parable. Here are a few that apply to nurses as healers:

1. Healers must understand how to bind wounds. As nurses, you bind up wounds and administer healing balms to relieve suffering and promote healing, just as did the good Samaritan. Healers know how to minister medicines. They must develop wise, healing hands.

2. Healers must be willing to stay with patients despite the cost in danger and dollars. The good Samaritan stayed with the afflicted man. He did not help and run. He bound up wounds and then ensured a careful hand-off to another caregiver. Then he returned to the sufferer after the hand-off. Nurses do all this. They spend many hours each shift with patients; they carefully hand patients off; they return to see them day after day. Like the Samaritan, nurses become the proximate face of care for patients.

3. Healers must have compassion for all, regardless of moral worthiness. The Good Samaritan had compassion for an enemy. He refused to judge a person in acute need of care as unworthy of care. Your business, too, lies in healing not judging. My daughter Elizabeth, who served a Spanish-speaking mission in the United States, uses her multicultural and linguistic knowledge every day at Primary Children’s Hospital. Many of her patients speak Spanish and are poor; some are illegal. She does not judge them. She speaks to them in their language and in the language of love. This is part of the healer’s art.

4. Healers must ask the right question: Not “Who is my neighbor?” but “Am I a good neighbor?” Did you notice that the Lord reframes the question when he answers the lawyer. The lawyer asks, somewhat cynically, “Who is my neighbour?” (Luke 10:29). Jesus asks the lawyer after recounting the parable: “Who was neighbour to him?” (Luke 10:36). That is, who acted as neighbor? There is a world of difference between these questions. The lawyer’s question looks outward; he wants to know where to draw a line, whom to exclude. The Lord’s question invites us to look inward at our own heart and at the lines we draw there that exclude others from our love. Jesus asks not whom to exclude but who acted to include others. Those who would learn the healer’s art must constantly ask themselves, “Have I acted as neighbor to those in need?”

Pool of Bethesda

I hope that all of you have spent time enjoying and reflecting on Carl Bloch’s stunning painting of Jesus healing a man at the Pool of Bethesda. We are so blessed to have this marvelous painting here at BYU in the Museum of Art. If you have not seen it, you should go look at it today with your friends and family. I grew up with this inspiring painting on the inside cover, front and back, of my seminary edition of the New Testament. I have loved it since I was a boy. Let me read the story of the healing at Bethesda:

Now there is at Jerusalem by the sheep market a pool, which is called in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda, having five porches. In these lay a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind, halt, withered, waiting for the moving of the water. For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool, and troubled the water: whosoever then first after the troubling of the water stepped in was made whole of whatsoever disease he had. And a certain man was there, which had an infirmity thirty and eight years. When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now a long time in that case, he saith unto him, Wilt thou be made whole? The impotent man answered him, Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool: but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me. Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk. And immediately the man was made whole, and took up his bed, and walked: and on the same day was the sabbath. (John 5:2–9)

Here are a few lessons Christ’s healing at Bethesda may teach us about the healer’s art:

1. Healers must learn to help those with chronic illnesses. At the pool of Bethesda, the Master heals someone suffering from chronic illness. Unlike the wounded man helped by the Good Samaritan and in need of a good ER, the invalid at the Pool of Bethesda had not just gotten hurt or fallen ill. He had been there thirty-eight years! He was camped out by the pool with his bed, seeming to wallow in his suffering and self-pity. Those who would learn the healer’s art must learn how to provide not only acute care but also assist those with chronic illnesses. They must particularly learn how to minister to those suffering from the hopelessness and despair that can settle in when suffering extends year after wretched year.

2. Healers must learn to bring hope to those in despair. Those with chronic afflictions often struggle with hopelessness, as do many other patients. I sense such struggles in the invalid at the pool of Bethesda. We hear discouragement and perhaps despair in his complaint: “I have no man” (John 5:7). This sufferer has witnessed miracles occur in the lives of others but never in his own life. He has come to blame his failure to be healed on the fact that he has no one to take him to the water’s edge. The Healer’s question to him is perfectly tailored to his hopelessness, which may be the deepest impediment to his being healed: “Wilt thou be made whole?” (John 5:6). Those who would learn the healer’s art must learn to help heal broken spirits as well as broken bodies. You must learn to help patients believe that they can be made whole.

3. Healers must learn to help patients help themselves. How did the Savior help this man who had made a permanent home out of his bed of affliction? Jesus encouraged him to get up and act in his own cure. The interrogative “Wilt thou be made whole?” (John 5:6) was followed by the imperative: “Rise, take up thy bed, and walk” (John 5:8). Those who would practice the healer’s art must help the afflicted learn how to take an active role in their own healing. You must encourage patients to have hope and then help them act on that hope.

I love the way that Carl Bloch portrays Jesus doing this. He catches the precise moment that Jesus lifts the rag from the man’s face, lets light shine into his dark and hopeless hovel, fixes his gaze on him, and reaches out to him, encouraging the patient to act in his own treatment: to rise and take up his bed. Jesus displays both tenderness and a certain toughness as he demonstrates the healer’s art for one suffering from chronic illness and depression.

4. Healers must be agents of grace. In the story, Jesus essentially takes on the role of the Spirit, which heretofore had miraculously moved the waters. He becomes an agent of grace. Those who would practice the healer’s art must also learn to become agents of grace. They must stand on higher ground to lift those who are downcast. They must let in the light. They must help those with incurable chronic illnesses to have the strength and courage to bear their daily crosses. They must know how to lead people into the house of grace.

The name Bethesda in Hebrew means “house of grace or mercy.” Those who would learn the healer’s art must themselves dwell in the house of mercy and grace.

The Woman with an Issue of Blood

The third healing I want to discuss is of a woman who suffered from an issue of blood. This case, too, deals with a chronic illness. The poor woman had suffered for twelve years. Whereas the man at the pool of Bethesda had looked for healing in miracles, the woman looked for healing in medicine. She had spent all her money on physicians. Mark records that this not only didn’t help her, it made matters worse. He says that she “had suffered many things of many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse” (Mark 5:26). Having found no cure in medicine, she turned to another source: Jesus, an itinerant Galilean who seemed to have power to heal the sick. She touched the hem of his garment and virtue (or power) went out of him. Here is the story as told by Luke:

And a woman having an issue of blood twelve years, which had spent all her living upon physicians, neither could be healed of any, Came behind him, and touched the border of his garment: and immediately her issue of blood stanched. And Jesus said, Who touched me? When all denied, Peter and they that were with him said, Master, the multitude throng thee and press thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me? And Jesus said, Somebody hath touched me: for I perceive that virtue is gone out of me. And when the woman saw that she was not hid, she came trembling, and falling down before him, she declared unto him before all the people for what cause she had touched him, and how she was healed immediately. And he said unto her, Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace. (Luke 8:43–48)

For me, this story has one great lesson, above all, to teach us about the healer’s art. It is that the healer’s art requires sensitivity to the one.

What is most striking about this miracle is not the healing itself but the Savior’s ability to know that a single individual amid the crowd had touched his garment and been healed. The woman was but one among perhaps hundreds jostling about Jesus that day. But he sensed her presence and her need. Those who would practice the healer’s art must learn similar sensitivity to the one.

In your practice, especially after you have practiced for years, you will be tempted to see patients as just another case—just a patient not a person. There is a great danger in this. Yes, a degree of emotional distance can be helpful at times. Cultivating purposeful objectivity can assist you in following established procedures. But you must always remember: No patient is merely a case. Each one is an individual.

My daughter Elizabeth once suffered with a rare fungus she picked up in South America. She was treated by a specialist. She always felt that for him, she was mainly an interesting case, not a person. You must never treat your patients this way. They are persons who happen to also be patients.

Those who practice the healer’s art learn to bless others one by one, as did Jesus in the Book of Mormon (3 Ne. 11:15; 17:21). They care for persons with names and life stories, not merely the patient in stations 1 and 2.

Example of my mom. One of the great examples in my life of someone who knew how to treat people in large groups as individuals is my mother. I am one of thirteen children. Each of us knew we were distinct and special. I once asked my mother how she was able to make each child feel so individually loved. She said that she consciously reminded herself that though this may be the thirteenth time she was sending a child off to kindergarten, it was his first time in school. The same goes for the first lost tooth, the first date, the first breakup. There is a lesson in the healer’s art here for you: it may be the umpteenth time you’ve treated the illness or done a procedure, but it is likely all new to your patient.

The crowd is an illusion. Seeing individuals only as part of a multitude is in many ways to see an illusion. After all, a crowd consists of hundreds of people each having an individual experience. My mom knew this principle of the healer’s art. Like Jesus, she felt when one of us was in need. And virtue went out of her to a child in the crowd. They may look like just another patient, another endlessly rotating occupant of the beds. But they reach out to you as individuals with unique stories and lives—like the woman with an issue of blood. They are persons not just patients.

Conclusion

May we all learn the healer’s art, as modeled in Jesus’s life and teachings: Healers care for patients despite the cost. They wisely administer medicines. They do not judge. They are inclusive in their care, seeking to be a fit neighbor rather than to judge who is a fitting neighbor worthy of care. Healers minister hope as well as medicines. They lift and encourage others to act in their own healing rather than grovel in their self pity and hopelessness. They become, for their patients, the Spirit moving on the water. Healers minister to patients as individuals. They are sensitive to the needs of the one amid the many. Power and love radiate from the touch of one who loves.

May we all learn lessons from the Master as we practice the healer’s art.