to return to your place in the text.To read endnotes, click on the the note number, then click on the
But something is wrong. It is not long before Willard
notices that, as nice as Ben and Lily are to him, they treat one
another with a cold civility. There is no expression of
affection between them and Ben's anger toward Lily is barely
disguised. Willard just does not get why such attractive, nice
people do not seem to like each other.
One day, after he and a pal have tossed worms on the heads
of some old folks at a funeral, he spies Lily placing flowers on
a grave in the cemetery. After she leaves, he wanders over to
the spot and looks at the gravestone. Ben and Lily, it seems,
had a boy of their own, Jimmy, who choked on a piece of candy and
died at the age of 3. That was more than two years ago, and ever
since then, Lily has been dead inside. "She wasn't always like
she is now," Ben tells Willard as he teaches him how to cast a
spinning rod. She used to be fearless, Ben says. When they
first met, he says, she walked right up to him on the street and
said, "You look like trouble. You wanna take me out?" No use
talking about that now, though, he says. That Lily is long gone;
she died with Jimmy.
Ben has tried everything a man of his ability could possibly
do. He has been patient. He has reassured Lily that he does not
blame her for their son's death. He has given her all the time
anyone should need to work through the understandable sense of
grief. But, Lily has become stuck. Her guilt has become a self-inflicted wound that she refuses to let heal; and Ben's
frustration and desperation at being unable to help her have
turned to deep anger and, eventually, to bitterness.(2)
Sometimes the most massive chains in which we feel bound are
the ones we have fashioned for ourselves. What does it take
before we can become liberated toward the love that has already
forgiven us?
Hold that thought now as we encounter what is probably one
of the best known of all the stories in the gospels, this
wonderfully appealing story about friends who are so anxious to
get one of their number who needs healing to Jesus that they will
go to incredible lengths to make it happen. History's first
recorded elevator ride.
By way of background, Mark's gospel lets us know that there
have already been a number of healings and exorcisms in Jesus'
ministry - the man in the Capernaum synagogue with the unclean
spirit, Peter's mother-in-law. That sort of news spreads
quickly, so, as the record has it, "That evening, at sundown,
they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons.
And the whole city was gathered around the door. And he cured
many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many
demons."(3) In fact, the hoopla wore Jesus out to such an extent
that he needed to get away for some quiet time. It was to be
short-lived - Peter and his friends found him, but instead of
returning to Capernaum, Jesus suggested, "Let us go on to the
neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also;
for THAT is what I came out to do."(4) There was more to his
ministry than miracles, not that anyone was willing to listen to
that. He cleansed a leper, told the man to show himself to the
priest for reinstatement into the community, and "sternly"
instructed the fellow to keep quiet otherwise. Forget about it -
the man could not shut up. And who could blame him? More
healings would soon follow, more demons cast out. Jesus'
celebrity was increasing. It became bad enough that, as Mark has
it, "Jesus could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out
in the country; and people came to him from every quarter."(5)
Wow!
Finally, he is back in Capernaum, his adopted home town.
The word is out. People come. They jam the house (which, by the
way, is one of those code words in Mark's gospel for church - the
church is where Jesus is to be found). The place is packed...
every preacher's fondest dream. And packed to such an extent
that the people who need to get to Jesus cannot. Too crowded.
It is an interesting image of the church: a place so jammed with
onlookers that they keep out those who desperately need to be
there. But, finally, through the persistence of those who care
about their friend, a way is found to bring the man to Jesus.
The roof. It was regularly used as a place of rest and of
quiet, and so there was an outside stairway which ascended to it.
With arms no doubt weary from bearing the weight of a man's
paralyzed body, they made their way up. The construction of the
roof lent itself to what these ingenious friends proposed to do.
The roof consisted of flat beams laid across from wall to wall,
some three feet apart. The space in between the beams was filled
with brushwood packed tight with clay. The top was then marled
over. Very largely the roof was of earth and often a flourishing
crop of grass grew. It was the easiest thing in the world to dig
out the filling between beams; it did not even damage the house
very much, and it was easy to repair the breach again. So the
four men dug out the filling between two of the cross-ties and
let their friend down at Jesus' feet.(6) As the lesson has it,
"When Jesus saw their faith" - their willingness to overcome any
obstacle and persevere in pursuit of the goal - "he said to the
paralytic, 'Son, your sins are forgiven.'"
I wonder if they were taken aback by what Jesus said. They
had heard about all the healings. This would be one more. After
lugging their friend across town, up the stairs, then down their
primitive, precarious elevator, you know they were expecting
Jesus to, BINGO, cure his paralysis. But, no. Jesus says, "Son,
your sins are forgiven." WHAT? Does that mean we have to carry
him all the way home again?
Suddenly we meet more players in this drama. "Now some of
the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts, 'Why
does this fellow speak in this way? It is blasphemy! Who can
forgive sins but God alone?'" For what it is worth, modern
"scribes" might have objections too: what about some word of
penitence or promise to do better? Is there no Prayer of
Confession before the Assurance of Pardon? But there was
nothing. This cannot be right. If, as we have already noted,
Mark's use of the word "house" is a euphemism for "church," we
should not be surprised at what we encounter - in greater or
lesser numbers we find the same folks represented then as we have
had throughout history: there are spectators (the crowd), there
are workers (the friends), and there are complainers (the
Scribes). Fortunately, there is one more - Jesus. Despite the
difficulty those who need help might have in getting to him
through the spectators and complainers (like our paralytic
friend), Jesus is here...and ready to heal.
So, why did Jesus say what he did? In those other healings
the gospel reports, there is no indication of words of
forgiveness offered as part of the prescription. Perhaps Jesus
was more familiar with this case than we know. After all,
Capernaum was not that large a place - only a small lakeside
village - and this fellow likely had spent his life there.
Remember too that, more than once, Jesus was confronted with
questions concerning the relationship between sin and suffering.
Jewish tradition argued that if a man was suffering he must have
sinned. Remember the story of Job? His friends asked the
rhetorical question, "Think now, who that was innocent ever
perished?"(7) Perhaps Jesus knew that this case needed a word of
absolution before any healing could take place.
That wonderful New Testament scholar William Barclay recalls
the case of a girl who played the piano in a movie theatre in the
days of the silent films. Normally she was quite well, but once
the lights went out and cigarette smoke filled the auditorium she
began to be paralyzed. She fought against it as long as she
could, but at last the paralysis became permanent and something
had to be done. Examination revealed no physical cause whatever.
Under hypnosis it was discovered that when she was very young,
only a few weeks old, she had been lying in one of those
elaborate old-fashioned cribs with an arch of lace over it. Her
mother had bent over her smoking a cigarette. The lace had
caught fire. It was immediately extinguished and no physical
harm had come to her but her sub-conscious mind was remembering
the terror. The dark plus the smell of the cigarette smoke in
the cinema acted on the unconscious mind and paralyzed her body -
and she did not know why.(8)
The man in this story may well have been paralyzed because
consciously or unconsciously he agreed that he was a sinner, and
the thought of being a sinner brought the illness which he
believed was the inevitable consequence of sin. The first thing
that Jesus said to him was, "Child, God is not angry with you.
It is all right." We who have the benefit of modern medicine
know there are any number of factors that contribute to healing.
Jesus knew that this one needed the "Forgiveness Factor," and
that paved the way for the cure.
The story moves on. Jesus knew what was rumbling around in
the complainers' minds. He asks, "Why do you raise such
questions in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the
paralytic, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Stand up and
take your mat and walk'?"
They sit quietly in front of him without responding.
Jesus continues. "'So that you may know that the Son of Man
has authority on earth to forgive sins,' he said to the
paralytic, 'I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go to your
home.'"
We know the story. He does precisely that. Amazing.
Terrific story. We have loved it since the first time we heard
it.
Have you ever put yourself IN it? That is a wonderful way
to get something new from it. If you were to identify with any
of the characters in this divine drama, who would you be?
Would you be one of the crowd, a spectator? Probably. At
least sometimes. We are here from week to week because we can
find ourselves as fascinated with Jesus as anyone else.
Sometimes it might be curiosity, sometimes something more. Are
you one of the crowd?
Or are you one of the Scribes? And be careful before you
quickly say NO, because the Scribes were folks who took their
religion very seriously. They wanted things done right, all the
theological "I's" dotted and "T's" crossed. They cared very
deeply about matters of faith. Sometimes, they overstepped the
bounds, as the gospel record makes clear, but they were ready to
do battle in defense of the faith. Are you one of the Scribes?
Or might you be one of the friends? Good! The world needs
all of them it can get. If you read the story closely you will
note that this miracle of healing was based on faith, but not the
faith of the paralyzed man. He was healed because of the faith
of these friends. Are you a friend with deep enough faith to do
whatever it takes to bring someone in need to Jesus for healing?
Or are you the paralytic? Something in your life has you
stuck. It might be a hurt so deeply felt that you cannot even
express it. It might be a need to profound to break free from
our respectable exterior. It might be the haunting memory of a
past sin that is too painful even to ask forgiveness for. Then,
listen to me. And listen to Jesus. Child, your sins are
forgiven.
Which one are you? The spectator? The scribe? The friend?
The paralytic? If you are like me, you are probably all of them
at one time or another, in greater or lesser measure.
The Forgiveness Factor. Week after week, we say "I believe
in the forgiveness of sins." Forgiveness is part and parcel of
life. In the Lord's Prayer, we affirm the necessity of a
forgiving spirit for ourselves just to begin to experience the
forgiveness of God. "Forgive us our debts...our trespasses, our
sins...as we forgive those who sin against us."
Last year, in our series on the Apostles' Creed, as we
considered the forgiveness of sins, I told you a story that came
from in a little village in Spain. Father and son argue, and say
things they should never have said. The son, a boy named Paco,
runs away to the big city of Madrid. Weeks go by, then months,
and the father comes to regret his anger. He rehearses, over and
over again in his mind, the apology he will offer to his son when
he returns. Yet Paco does not come back. The father begins to
fear he has lost his son forever. Finally, the father devises a
plan. He travels to the city, armed with posters that he puts up
on every wall and tree. He takes out a classified ad in the
newspaper. Everywhere the message is the same:
Meet me in front of the newspaper office tomorrow at
noon. All is forgiven. I love you.
Your father.
Now, "Paco" is a very common name in Spain - like "John" or
"Jim" in our country. Remember too that the father did not sign
his posters, or his classified ad, with anything except "Your
father."
By twelve o'clock the next day, as the story goes, Paco is
waiting outside the newspaper building; he and his father have a
joyful reunion. Yet along with the son, there are 800 other men
named Paco, gathered there, every last one of them hoping it was
his father who took out the ad and nailed up the posters.(9)
The Forgiveness Factor. When we gather together from week
to week for worship, often paralyzed in different ways and
needing to be borne up by the faith of others, we are summoned to
hear again those words of Jesus. Listen to them once more: "My
child, your sins are forgiven...My
child, your sins are forgiven...My
child, your sins are forgiven...Now, rise up and walk."
Amen.
1. Touchstone Pictures, 1991, written and directed by Mary Agnes Donoghue 2. Recalled (albeit with some faulty detail) by Barry Robinson, "Keeping The Faith in
Babylon: A Pastoral Resource For Christians In Exile", a weekly set of comments and reflections
on the Revised Common Lectionary texts. 3. Mark 1:32-34a 4. Mark 1:38 5. Mark 1:45b 6. William Barclay, The Daily Study Bible, CD-ROM edition (Liguori, MO: Liguori
Faithware, 1996) used by permission of Westminster/John Knox Press 7. Job 4:7 8. Barclay, ibid. 9. James S. Hewett, Illustrations Unlimited (Wheaton: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc,
1988) p. 218
Dear Paco,
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