Whatever It Takes
A Sermon on Mark 2:1-12 and Isaiah 43:18

I'm going to invite you to close your eyes for a minute. Not because I want you to go to sleep. I invite you to step into your imagination. If you can do this with your eyes open, then feel free to do that.

It's the first century, and it's Capernaum. Word has begun to spread about some guy named Jesus who lives here. And word has it he's been traveling around teaching and healing and has been developing quite a following. He's back in town. 'Has been for a few days. He's at his house. And folks begin to show up at the door. They come in. Then more show up and more and more until there's not enough room for everyone -- not even in the doorway. Jesus is teaching. There's lots of noise, lots of activity. Lots of chaos. People are trying to catch a glimpse of him, hear a nugget of wisdom or insight to take on their way -- on their way back into their difficult lives.

All of a sudden there's a lot of commotion and noise. It sounds like something's going on up above. On the roof. Pretty soon debris starts to fall into the room. People look up and have to cover their eyes and eventually their heads. Something begins to descend into the middle of the room. People back into each other to get out of the way, so at least whatever this is doesn't come down on them. Some people are even knocked down. Some of them have crumbs of clay and pieces of the thatched roof all over them. They try to get up and dust themselves off. Some of them are able to find a space to stand up. Others are pushed toward the door.

There's so much commotion, many of them miss what's really happening. A group of folks seem to have gone up on the roof. They removed part of it -- dug through it. It had to have been a mess. These folks on the roof lowered a friend down into the middle of the crowded house so their friend, who could not walk into the house on his own -- so their friend could come into the presence of Jesus. Not they themselves, but their friend. They took a risk. What if they failed? What if it didn't work? What if he got hurt? What if they got arrested?

Nobody said a word about who he was or what he needed. Jesus was teaching and was rather obviously and some would say rudely -- interrupted. And what did Jesus do? How much of the roof came down on Jesus? I can imagine a pause, where Jesus looks up and wipes some of the debris off of his face. And shakes his head in amazement. Wow. These people must have some faith. That they would do something this drastic just to bring their friend into my presence. I imagine him throwing up his arms, doing a little shake of the head and maybe an "Oh my." And then, "Your sins are forgiven."

Now the scribes -- the conventional teachers, the traditionalists, are standing on the sidelines, skeptical. They lean against the wall with their arms crossed. They see what has just happened. And they grumble to one another, "What the heck is he doing! He can't say that! God is the only one that can forgive sins! Who does he think he is?"

Of course these folks never said any of this directly to Jesus. But Jesus was intuitive enough to know what they were saying. And so he confronts them directly. "Why are you asking these kinds of questions?" Then he uses their own custom of answering questions by asking questions. "Which is easier, to say to this man, "Your sins are forgiven," or to say, "Stand up and take your mat and walk?" Then, of course, that's what Jesus does say to the man who cannot walk, and the man is healed. The man on the mat, the reason for all this commotion, does exactly what Jesus says. He stands up and takes his mat and pushes himself through the crowd for everyone to see.

If your eyes were closed, you can open them now. There's always a reason certain stories are included in the Bible. They're there for a purpose, they're there to make a point. They're not just the work of some scribe writing down what was arbitrarily recorded on video while Jesus wandered around. Stories of healing in the Gospels have a point. Many of the stories are not primarily about the people healed, but focus instead on the healer, Jesus. What they often tell us about Jesus is threefold: 1. that he has compassion toward those in need, 2. that he has power to heal, and 3. that he is endowed with divine authority. Our Gospel today does all three of those things. The compassion and healing are obvious. That he is endowed with divine authority is a bit more challenging. The great debate around this text is about the cause of this man's paralysis and the reason for his healing. Was the man healed because his sins were forgiven? Are healing and forgiveness the same thing? How come John Peterson (one of our members in a wheel chair because of MS) doesn't stand up every Sunday after our Brief Order for Confession and Forgiveness? Is illness connected to sin? Is that the point Jesus is making?

Some would say so. I would say no. But that's not really what was going on here. Compassion and forgiveness were Jesus' immediate response -- his gut reaction, to the faith of the man's friends and to the faith of the man himself. Would you let someone lower you in through a roof into a crowded room? You would have to have an incredible amount of faith that something good would come out of an intimate encounter with Jesus. You do it, and your sins are forgiven.

The healing, on the other hand, was a direct response to the grumblings of the scribes, to their questioning his power to forgive. These guys were skeptical. Forgiveness of sins could have just been faked on his part. No one could prove that the man's sins were forgiven. But the healing couldn't be questioned. Healing of a paralyzed man couldn't be faked. Healing would link him, in the eyes of the scribes, at least, to God.

Now I'm going to invite you to return again to this setting in first century Capernaum. This time, put your self in the story. Where are you? Are you among the crowd in the house, pushed down by the commotion when the man and his mat came through the roof? Do you resent the man on the mat? OR, are you leaning against the wall with your hands across your chest, as skeptical and cynical as ever, waiting to catch Jesus in a faux pas? OR, are you on the roof, doing whatever it takes, even when the measures are drastic, just to help a friend come into the presence of Jesus, to have that intimate encounter with Christ? Are you standing outside, trying to peek through the window so you can see what's going on? Are you standing on tip toe trying to get a glimpse of Jesus? OR are you Jesus, looking with compassion on someone who just destroyed your house because he wanted the opportunity to be in your presence? OR are you the man on the mat? How did you feel about this whole thing? Was it your idea? Did your friends force you into it? Obviously going through the roof wasn't your first choice as a way to encounter Jesus. How do you feel about it now, with hindsight? Have you ever been paralyzed? Are you paralyzed now? Where would you put yourself in this story? With whom do you most identify?

The man on the mat -- the "mat man" -- isn't the only one paralyzed in the story. Loss of muscle function isn't the only cause of paralysis, nor is it the only kind of paralysis. Loss of muscle function blocked his way. But the crowds also block his way. The scribes seem to be paralyzed in their faith. Their hearts are paralyzed and not open to God doing any new thing -- the new thing we hear about from the prophet in our first reading from Isaiah today.

Where would you put yourself in the story? I most often feel like one of the friends on the roof, doing my best, with the help of others, to bring my friend into the presence of the crucified and risen Jesus. Sometimes that is very messy and awkward. Sometimes it means things might not go very smoothly. Sometimes it means folks get dirty or stepped on -- even me, even Jesus. Sometimes it requires drastic measures because of the crowds. That can mean encountering Jesus in a way that wouldn't be my friend's first choice -- communing by intinction instead of the way in which they're accustomed. Standing up instead of kneeling because there are so many people. Singing a song they might not like or know but that brings healing to a neighbor. It's not always about things going smoothly. It's not always about our first choices or our own preferences. But today, we learn, it is about compassion and forgiveness and healing. It is about doing whatever it takes to encounter the power and the presence of God.

Let us pray: Healer god, we come before you paralyzed. Paralyzed with fear for what tomorrow may bring, paralyzed with the pain of our friends, our loved ones, and ourselves, paralyzed by realities that seem to leave no room for hope. God of action, help us to raise the roof over our heads; raise the roof and let light shine through; raise the roof and bring us closer to your presence; raise the roof and let hope and trust into the rooms of our hearts. AMEN.

Pastor Dana Runestad
Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Livonia, Michigan
19 February, 2006
The Seventh Sunday after Epiphany

Sources:

Shirin McArthur, "Litany for Healing" in Women's Uncommon Prayers: Our Lives Revealed, Nurtured, Celebrated, Harrisburg Pennsylvania, Morehouse Publishing, 2000, p. 344.

Bruce Modahl, "Images for Preaching" for February 19, 2006 in Sundays and Seasons 2006, Minneapolis Minnesota, Augsburg Fortress, p. 103.

Kerry H. Wynn of Southeast Missouri State University, "Disability Versus Sin: A Rereading of Mark 2:1-12," Paper presented at the American Academy of Religion Annual Meeting, Consultation on Religion and Disability Studies, Boston, Massachusetts, November 22, 1999. http://www6.semo.edu/lec/wynn/sin&dis.html

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