Forgiveness for the Paralyzed Man?

His friends had to bring him.

To get through the crowds, his friends were so determined that they climbed on top of the house that held Jesus.  They somehow cut a hole in the roof.  And they lowered the stretcher that held their friend into that house.

In Capernaum, they removed the roof above Jesus.  The Greek says that they "unroofed the roof."  

Why?  Simple.  So they could let their friend in.  To be healed.

But when Jesus sees the paralyzed man and his loyal friends trying to help him, Jesus simply says to the paralytic, "Son, your sins are forgiven."

Really?  Forgiveness for the paralyzed man?  In another passage about another injury, a man born blind, observers asked Jesus,  "who sinned, this man or his parents?"  And Jesus answered, "neither this man, nor his parents."

So what about "first things first" here -- he's paralyzed!  Heal him, then forgive him.  In that order.  If needed.

The paralytic's friends cut through the roof to get into the home.  Jesus cut through skin and bone, muscle and mass, to get to the heart.

Why?  Not so simple.  But, oh so beautiful.

In his peace-inducing book "Jesus: A Pilgrimage," James Martin, SJ, wonderfully addresses the question:  "why the need for forgiveness for the paralyzed man?"

Martin begins his treatment like this (and trust me, the beginning is NOT the best part!):

"I wondered about the paralyzed man.  He may have felt shame for his illness or for being unable to support himself.  Maybe his friends carried him in spite of himself.  Sometimes when we are too embarrassed to approach God, someone must bring us there -- even drag us there . . . .  We cannot come to God without others [sometimes].  This may be what evoked Jesus' compassion.  He recognizes the man's dark feelings, and so he says, in essence, 'Whatever you think you may have done to make this happen, you are forgiven.'  William Barclay believes that Jesus is saying, 'God is not angry with you.  it's all right.'  Jesus is showing him how God truly looks at us, and it's often not the way we think God looks at us."

All right, that first explanation is okay.  I get it.  And maybe they nailed it.  Maybe that is what it is.

But, as we will now see, thank God, Martin kept thinking and writing:

"But I wondered aloud, 'Why did Jesus feel the need to forgive the paralyzed man?  Could he not have said that the man had not sinned, as Jesus did in the case of the man born blind?'  [My friend,] Jim, a Jesuit and Trappist monk, told me that one day as he prayed over this Gospel passage a story came to him.  Of course he admitted it's highly unlikely that it happened in this way, but our conversation reminded me that the people in the Gospels were real people who had full lives before and after they encountered Jesus.  They are not mere literary characters or allegorical figures, but individuals with histories.  And Jesus steps into the rich and complicated lives of people in first-century Palestine, as God steps into our own, [which is why my friend Jim dreamt of this story:]

"Imagine:  the man was a roofer in a nearby town, said Jim.  One day he is working on a job with his friends, and from atop the house he spies the owner's beautiful wife.  A good man and faithful husband, he still finds himself staring.  So fraught does the situation become that the roofer thinks of quitting his job, but he can't -- his family needs the money.  One day, overcome with passion, the roofer sleeps with the beautiful woman.  Immediately, he is consumed with guilt over what he has done to his wife.  The next day he returns to the job and, while working atop the house, slips and falls through the roof onto the hard dirt [or rock] floor.  He is paralyzed.

"Instinctively, the roofer blames himself for his sin."

Of course, that's what we all do.  And then the burden grows even heavier:

"His friends carry him home to his wife, who suspects what has happened for she knows the beautiful woman.  But she cares for her husband out of love.  When his friends visit him a few days later, they tell him about the wonder-worker who lives in Capernaum.  But he resists.  Weighed down by shame, he feels unworthy of seeing Jesus.

"But his friends carry him there, unroof the roof, and lower him before Jesus.  Jesus himself has already heard the story of the roofer in the nearby town, and he has pity on the paralyzed man.  This is why Jesus tells him to go home.  Jesus knows he will not only rejoice in being able to walk about, but also in being freed from his sins.  The man rushes home to kiss his loving wife and hug his children."

"In both Mark's original narrative and Jim's imaginative retelling, sin and paralysis are connected:  sin can paralyze us, preventing any forward motion.  We are stuck until we are able to be forgiven, until we meet God in some way, or until our friends take pity on us, unroof our world, and let in the light."

***       ***       ***       ***

Jim's explanation is arresting, isn't it?  For all of us, and for me.  Here's a version of my own story (with apologies initially to John Cougar):

I was born in a small town, educated in a small town, taught to fear Jesus in a small town, used to daydream in that small town.  Another boring romantic, that's me.

I learned insecurity in a small town, found the need to work hard in that small town, hand to the plow to provide for family.  Premiums on drive and staying busy.

When I moved to the big town, I thought I didn't belong in that big town.  Can't make it here in the big town.  Competition and insecurity.

And then one day, I woke up in that big town.  My marriage was shot in that big town.  All I was taught in my small town disappeared here in the big town.

Stop.  

This is not an ode to the small town versus the big town.  But it is an ode to the connection between guilt and paralysis.  And when I read Jim's explanation for why Jesus forgave the paralytic, I literally rejoiced myself.

You see, I sometimes feel like --

I could've done a thousand things differently to have loved my wife more.

I could have relaxed, found different jobs, been home by 5 every night, become a handyman.

I should've done a thousand things differently to have loved my wife more.

I should have laughed more, become an extrovert, taken her out more, engaged her with friends more.

I could not have done a few thousand things.

I could not have worked so hard, studied so hard, been an introvert, and climbed the ladder so much.

I should not have done a few thousand things.

I should not have let her feel so alone.

Now, in looking back, I don't know how I would have or could have changed any of that.  Moreover, I'm not even sure that a thousand changes would have produced any different results.  Most importantly, I felt (and still sometimes feel) quite guilty.  And paralyzed.

But . . . (pause) . . . my friends carried me to Jesus a few years ago.  I was ashamed and embarrassed.  I was paralyzed and fearful.  And all they did was unroof the roof.  And then Jesus' words to the paralytic have become healing words to my soul.  Jesus then and now says to me, "Son, your sins are forgiven."

***       ***       ***       ***

 I was just in Capernaum last week, near the site of this miracle of the paralytic.  (It had to be near the site because it's a small, small town!)  Fast by the tranquil Galilee, before the evening winds whip the sea.  And I can use my imagination now to smell the earth, to feel my friends lowering me into the house through the roof.  And I can see the wonder-worker from Capernaum looking at me with compassion, assuring me that my sins are forgiven.  

Time to rise and walk.

Jesus then says, "Follow me."