Sit comfortably, close your eyes, and as you listen, engage your imagination, picture what you hear. See the place, the people, hear the words, the sounds, smell the land, feel the emotions – tension, hope, anguish, fear. With whom do you empathize, with whom do you identify? Engage your imagination now as I read Mark 2:1-12.
When he returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that he was at home. So many gathered around that there was no longer room for them, not even in front of the door; and he was speaking the word to them. Then some people came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. And when they could not bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him; and after having dug through it they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.’ 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?’ At once Jesus perceived in his spirit that they were discussing these questions among themselves; and he said to them, ‘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”? But 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.’ And he stood up, and immediately took the mat and went out before all of them; so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, ‘We have never seen anything like this!’
What did you notice? With whom did you identify? What questions or meanings arose?
I went to an art exhibit in Laguna Beach titled A Broken Beauty. One artist drew a four-foot long, two-foot wide, picture of his pre-teen daughter. The view was from above, looking down on her. She was held in the arms of six friends, three on one side, three on the other, with their heads tilted back, looking up at the artist, at the viewer, at God, with quiet longing. The way the daughter’s head lay against her friends’ forearms, her arms and hands twisted, her legs atrophied beneath her sweatpants, you knew – she was paralyzed.
The artwork evoked a palpable sense of compassion for the daughter. The silent gaze of her friends offered an uneasy invitation. Will you join us? Will you hold her, pray for her, hope for her, too?
It’s easy to identify the physically paralyzed; the signs of atrophy and immobility are physical, like the artist’s daughter, like the paralyzed man on his mat. But it is not easy to identify those who are mentally, emotionally, spiritually paralyzed. They don’t look atrophied or immobile. They often show no signs at all. Assertive, well-put-together, and principled. They sound and look, just like you and me.
To be internally paralyzed is to be stuck, unable to change things on our own. Its paralysis caused by fear. Fear of failure, of doing something wrong, of being wrong, can lead to a locked-up inside. Gerald May writes, “If you choose the side of fear, you are likely to stifle your love by trying to make sure you never make a mistake.” What starts out as a stifle, soon becomes paralysis. (p. 125, The Awakened Heart)
Our paralysis can be impulsive – a moment, a week or two, a couple months – and then we get through it. It can be attitudinal, where it becomes a mood that settles in for a season. If not checked, healed, it can become dispositional, and it paralyzes our life. Like the paralyzed man, you and I need help.
But it’s hard to ask for help when it doesn’t look from the outside like we need help. It’s hard to ask for help, when we’re not sure we need help in the first place. This is where our community comes into play. Our friends might recognize we are paralyzed. We need each other.
In this story, we see two examples of community, one is helpful, one hinders. The crowd gathered around Jesus 1) didn’t notice the paralyzed man because they were too caught up in trying to hear Jesus, or 2) they refused to notice him. Either way, the paralyzed man was not seen, not helped. But the ones who carried him found a way. Notice, they did not try to fix him, they placed him in Jesus’ presence.
Creative buggers. They “dug through” the roof, through thatch, mud, adobe. I’m sure it was noisy – scratching, scrapping, gouging – and messy, dust flying, detritus falling into the house. But apparently, the roof was easier to break through than the crowd. Let that sit for a minute. It speaks well of the paralyzed man’s friends, their persistence, care, faith. It does not speak well of the crowd gathered around Jesus.
In many of the stories about Jesus, the crowd around him is difficult to get through. Now gathering around Jesus is great! It’s what we do every Sunday! But just because we gather around Jesus, does not guarantee anything about us. The question is: how do we gather? Do we gather like some of the Pharisees, who hoped to catch Jesus and his disciples in a theological slip, see him disobey the law? Do we gather in judgment about some of the “kinds of people” drawn to Jesus and his message? Do we gather around him in a way that makes room for others, too? Or do we gather in a way that excludes, inhibits, hinders?
The nameless friends in our story show us how to be community for one another in our paralysis. Attention is not drawn to who they are, but to what they had and what they did. What they had was faith. We see it in their desire, creativity, persistence. What they did was to bring the man to Jesus and leave the results to him. The paralyzed man’s faith is not at stake here. The faith of his friends leads to the healing.
God is everywhere and anywhere. Now please don’t let Presbytery know I said this, but you don’t need church to experience God’s healing touch. However, something good can happen when we are together. Maybe one of the simplest questions to ask is: when we are here, do we find that we are more paralyzed, or less paralyzed? Are we becoming free from our fears, or do fears increase? Are your questions and thoughts honored, held, welcomed? Can you be who you are here? Or do you find yourself hiding who you are? If we feel more free here, released from our inner paralysis, do we believe it enough to bring others who are paralyzed by fear in some way? Are we persistent to help others find healing in the presence of Christ? Do we believe it enough to leave the healing results to God?
Jesus forgives the paralyzed man, which helps us see how our internal wholeness affects us physically, too. Healing our inner paralysis is connected to physical wellness. Forgiveness speaks to the deepest fears of our souls. It wipes away the guilt for what we’ve done and not done. More deeply, it wipes away the shame of who we think we are. The fear that we are wrong in our bones and soul is what paralyzes us. Gerald May writes, “If you choose love, you will surely make some mistakes, but you will be growing and making a difference in the world around you…I would prefer a thousand mistakes in extravagance of love to any paralysis in wariness of fear.”
The drawing of the paralyzed daughter has stayed with me. But I see it differently now. Not from the top of the roof, but from within the house, where people gladly receive and hold the paralyzed person, looking up in thanks to those who had the faith, courage, love, to bring their friend into the presence of Christ. This is how Christian community works: We help each other come into Jesus’ presence, without judgment, with faith, that Christ will forgive and heal. When we listen deeply to each other, when we let each other be who we really are, when we accept each other and judge not, we lower each other into the presence of Christ, where the inner paralysis is healed, and inner freedom is found.
May we, too, have that kind of faith to work together, to bring each other to God’s forgiving presence, so we can all be healed, so we can each become A Broken Beauty. Amen.
