Next Sunday is Transfiguration Sunday, the last Sunday before the start of Lent, and the
time we return our palms and palm crosses from last year's services for burning. There is a pattern and consistency
to the life of faith every bit as constant as the seasons themselves. The flow of it is meant to carry us on our
individual journeys of learning, as we experience more about what it means to be "a holy people."
Suddenly in the midst of this flow Mark gives us a story about a dramatic interruption in the nicely developing
ministry which Jesus has begun in the Galilee. Something unexpected happens, which has become one of the best loved
healing stories in the gospels. It is how Jesus deals with this interruption and how those around him view it that
has much to say to us as we prepare to go from Epiphany to the Cross.
In the midst of his sermon, his teaching, his moment in a place that is described as his "home", the
ceiling above him is pried open, light breaks through, and a twisted, motionless body is lowered down to the floor
in front of him. It is as startling to those gathered there, as it would be for us if this body was being dropped
onto our own communion table in the very midst of our celebration of the sacrament. Disfigured humanity…dropped
into the sacred…breaking into their own private conference with Jesus, where he has been teaching and healing…in
relative comfort and privacy…and the crowd is literally stunned.
No one speaks…no one makes a request… pleads their case or bolts to the door in panic.
Paralysis…the inability to move, to speak, to do…it effects more than the individual on the mat. The entire crowd
stands open jawed and silent. If anything is going to get action going beyond this moment it is going to have to
be inspired by something or someone outside the realm of self.
Some have suggested the paralysis of the man in their midst may have been purely psychological, some closure of
his entire ability to relate, since Jesus action is motivated purely by what he "sees". The man himself
never speaks and is not asked about the character of his faith as in so many other healings. In the Miller-Keane
Medical Dictionary there is a description of what constitutes Psychosomatic Illness. The article states, "The
physical manifestations of an illness, unless caused by mechanical trauma, cannot be divorced from a person's emotional
life. Each person responds in a unique way to stress; emotions affect one's sensitivity to trauma and to irritating
elements in the environment, susceptibility to infection, and the ability to recover from the effects of illness."
It is entirely possible that the paraplegic man in this account suffered from such a psychosomatic illness, and
that Jesus' forgiveness of the sin, since it was widely believed that sin caused all physical ailments, actually
cured him of his imprisonment. It is clearly an act of salvation by grace since no one asked for forgiveness but
Jesus forgives all his sins anyway.
Forgiving sins was not outside the range of possibilities in those days. Priests did it routinely for a price.
I suspect that like us, most who were gathered there didn't doubt that God could forgive sins, but probably did
not think that God forgives sins very easily. This was all too simple, too undeserved! After all we have been taught
that Jesus died on the cross for our sins, so there seems to be a good reason to believe that a great deal of pain
should be associated with having our sins forgiven. In our human logic, we probably believe that God would have
far preferred us not to have sinned in the first place, so that that whole ordeal of the Cross would never have
happened in the first place. We may think that the Cross has made God angry, and that there surely is some lingering
resentment that we still fail to measure up, and that our cross of pain is still necessary after all these years.
Just as in last week's gospel on the cleansing of the leper, this too is a story about forgiveness without expectations.
Jesus is "at home" and the man is simply told to go back to his home as well. Jesus doesn't suggest that
he remain so as to be inspired by the rest of his teachings, he does not ask him to become a disciple, or even
to read an inspirational book…the implication is that he is just to rejoice in his new state, his restored state,
and see where it takes him.
How liberating is that?
The heart of the Christian faith is the declaration of the "forgiveness of sins." It is the Gosple! In
the Apostles' Creed we say that we believe in baptism "for the forgiveness of sins," implying that God
not only forgives our sins, but that God blots them out. In the liberation gospel of the early church, the great
YES of Paul, the whole idea of release from the power of the Law, is that God took positive action to insure our
salvation.
BUT there is a catch…there always is. We are to forgive those who sin against us as well. That means we are to
forget all about personal "justice." It's hard to erase from our memory what "Bill did to me"
or how "Freda betrayed me," but we are to grasp a very simple teaching, an invaluable lesson about reality.
That is, if we remain angry and resentful and refuse to forgive the sins done to us by others, we cripple ourselves.
We become paralyzed and we will remain so until we come to understand our own need to hear the good news of forgiveness.
The church is the religious establishment of the modern day. We are like the scribes in that we have our own neat,
tidy understanding of God and we are continually having to adjust to the new things that God is doing in our midst.
This is not easy to do. I know that I resist change and I don't think it comes easily for too many of us. I am
impatient with and judgmental of those who resist more strongly than I do, but on the other hand, I am in conflict
with God when I want to cling to my old experiences and understandings. I guess God is impatient with me at those
times. As I see it, this text really hits us where we live.
As I read this text, I am struck by the fact that Jesus cares more about the people presently before him than the
property (the roof) or the propriety (the current human customs and ideas about forgiveness)of the time. It has
been suggested that if this was actually Peter's mother-in-laws' home where they routinely stayed while in Capernaum
her feelings about having her roof torn off may have been less cordial, and some comment to her son-in-law about
making sure his carpenter friend fixes it before they ever even think about leaving may well have followed the
event.
It raises the issue of how many times are we guilty of letting property concerns or our own customs or ways of
doing things interrupt the process of forgiveness and liberation that God is pouring forth?
In these last weeks of healings, casting out demons, and cleansing souls we've seen that the crowd gets bigger
and brings him even more sick people. Several times Jesus has tried to re-direct the crowd... and his disciples,
has tried to take control of the direction of his ministry saying "Yes, I can heal bodies ... but I want to
do so much more for you!"
We've seen that and heard that…but today, it is very specific. The forgiveness of sins…salvation… is the ultimate
gift!
I see this text as a fulfillment of the Isaiah passage (Is 43:19) in which the Lord says "I am about to do
a new thing..." Jesus is doing a radically new thing when he takes the authority to forgive the man's sins.
Dr. Moira Laidlaw is a retired minister from the Uniting Church in Adelaide, Australia. She recently shared this
wonderful story about the visible power of forgiveness in our lives:
The city church where I was minister was planning to celebrate 100 years of worship in the community- first as
a Presbyterian church and then as a Uniting Church. We wanted to do something which would indicate how far the
church had moved in 100 years, so clergy were invited from other denominations to take part in worship over the
month selected for celebrations. The first Sunday, was the local Presbyterian minister's turn, the second, the
Catholic parish priest, then the Baptist minister, followed by an
Aboriginal pastor from a rural parish and finally - on the fifth Sunday - the current Moderator of the Uniting
Church.
We had a lovely Japanese family as members of our church, and the baptism of their second child, had previously
been arranged for the second Sunday in the 'centenary' month. I called on the parish priest - Fr Peter Quin -to
discuss the service for that Sunday.
I remember asking him what he wanted to do in the service and he said : "Just tell me what you want me to
do and I'll do it." and I remember thinking - that shows how far we've moved in 100 years! I informed him
of the baptism of the Japanese baby and he said he was happy to assist in that if the parents agreed - which they
did.
On that second Sunday, following the actual baptism, Fr Quin took Jun and lovingly carried him around the church,
offering him to the people as the newest recognized member of the community of faith. All I can say is that the
Spirit was surely moving - and people in the congregation were visibly moved. I found myself overcome with emotion,
and had some difficulty continuing with the service. When we talked about it after the service we all came to the
conclusion that we had felt the presence of the Holy Spirit so strongly because a Catholic priest had carried a
Japanese baby around a Uniting church!
I found out the next day the real reason behind that powerful spiritual experience. An ecumenical prayer group
met monthly in different homes and the day after the service, the group met in the home of one of Fr Quin's parishioners.
We always began by sharing news of what was going on in our various churches and of course I shared the story of
the previous day.
When I finished, the woman whose home we were in looked at me with tears in her eyes and asked me if I knew what
had happened to Fr Quin's father - Dr Bernard Quin? When I shook my head, she told us how Dr Quin was a GP in Victoria
in the late 1920's but with drought and the depression had taken his family to the island
of Nauru to work there. He loved the people and they loved him but in the early years of World War 2 the phospate
works on the island were bombed by German ships and the Quin family returned to Australia. The Australian government
asked Dr Quin to return to Nauru as a medical officer was needed to look after the troops now stationed there,
as well as the local population, so Dr Quin returned to the island. In 1941, when Japan entered the war, Australia
withdrew its troops and Dr Quin and four other Australians had to decide whether to leave with the troops or stay
behind. They were desperately needed by the Nauruans so they stayed. The Japanese overran the Island and in 1943,
Dr Quin and the other Australians were beheaded by the Japanese. Dr Quin went to his death wearing his rosary around
his neck as a public affirmation of his faith. He was 49 years old.
(This story is told in the book Unsung Heroes and Heroines of Australia, pages 264f. )
Now I knew why we had felt the power of the Holy Spirit so strongly the previous day - Fr. Peter Quin had carried
that Japanese baby around the church with such love that we knew something very special was taking place. When
I phoned to tell him I had heard about his father and commented on the way he had so lovingly held baby Jun, he
said "You cannot live on hate. Hate destroys life, forgiveness creates it."
As the psalmist reminded us in our call to worship…people say all kinds of things they don't mean. They say other
things when they leave you, cruel and hurtful things. Such words cripple the soul and keep us prisoners of ourselves.
The passage is like a dream of symbols. When we own the authority to care we will help release people from their
paralysis, we will be unfazed by the "interruption of human need," and we will cut through restrictive
ecclesiastical bureaucracy, because we have discovered that authority is really about authenticity in being open
to the breaking through of God's reign in our lives. We need to blow the roof off this house! (Bill Loader)
Lent breaks into our lives when we confess our own self-realized failings, our mortality, and our great need for
God's grace for ourselves and others. It's so simple.
I'm sure you've heard that the seven last words of the church were "But we've never done it that way."
I once read in another church's newsletter that the seven words of a healthy church are: "Let's try it and
see what happens!"
That's standing in a whole new way.
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