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Christ Comes for the Forgiveness of Sin
Sermon by the Reverend Patricia Farris
Scripture: Isaiah 43:18-25; Mark 2:1-12
Each Sunday, at this point in our worship service, we spend some time with the Word of God, hoping that it might shed some light into the dark places of our lives. Longing for some answers. Needing some healing. Hungry for the real bread of life contained in these pages. Now, I know that we can become somewhat blasé about all this, resting back into the pews, waiting and hoping for something from this pulpit that will grab our attention and give us something to help us through the week.
Contrast that image of ourselves this morning with the scene presented in Mark's gospel today. Jesus has returned to Capernaum and he's at home. The crowds have gathered and are pressing around his door. The people are there, eager to get close to him, and the Scribes, a group of religious leaders who oppose him, are there, as well. And Jesus was "speaking the word to them," he was proclaiming the message, that is-he was preaching.
Jesus came to teach, to preach and to heal, three expressions of the Good News of God's new kingdom. And today, in the midst of his preaching, four friends are so very insistent and determined on behalf of their friend that they climb up on the roof of that house, tear it open and lower him down on a mat right to where Jesus is standing. Now, that is passion for the healing Word of God-and not for themselves, but for their friend! And Jesus says a most astonishing thing, "Son, your sins are forgiven."
Whether they'd been planning this move or whether it was spur of the moment, we don't know. But they did it, these four. Did the paralyzed friend want to go, or did they make him? We don't know. Who were they? Childhood friends? Cousins? Or just four strong guys who agreed to help him out?
And thank goodness they didn't have to consult with their attorney before they climbed up on the roof with a paralyzed guy, a mat, and four pieces of rope! This was a lawsuit waiting to happen! What if they'd fallen off? They could have sued the homeowner for creating an "attractive nuisance!" Or he could have charged them with assault and battery on his roof, or something!
The image of those four guys climbing up onto that roof to tear it open, all so that they could lower their friend down to be with Jesus-that's incredible. Surely, it would have been easier for those four guys to stay home that day or stay at their jobs. They were evidently in fine health. They could have remained uninvolved. They could have worried over their sick friend from a distance or they could have criticized him for the situation in which he found himself. They could have criticized Jesus for not going out to cure the poor guy. They could have cowered in fear at what the Scribes and Pharisees might say. They could have wrung their hands and just said, "Well, I guess poor Joe here will always be a mess. We just have to live with it." The most we know is that they were four individuals who cared enough to get involved and make a difference.
What in the world is all this about? What's going on here? Well, we're learning some things about Jesus. And we're learning some things about ourselves. And we're learning some things about the Kingdom of God. And we're beginning to move in time from the season of Epiphany towards the season of Lent and the cross that of Good Friday.
First, Jesus. In Jewish religious practice and understanding, only God had the power to forgive. And that's important for us to know-for throughout the Judeo-Christian tradition is the bedrock faith that God forgives sin. It is an awesome thing, the most precious gift, one we will explore in depth this year, all during the season of Lent, when our theme for worship and small groups will be "forgiveness."
But an astonishing claim is being made here by Mark about who Jesus really is and what he has been given power and authority to do. You see, in Jewish religious practice, sin was acknowledged each year on the Day of Atonement, when the high priest would enter the Holy of Holies in the Temple and ask pardon for the sin of the people. The reason the Scribes in today's story get so upset is that they're hearing a Galilean preacher offer God's forgiveness. Jesus doesn't say, "I forgive you." He declares, "Your sins are forgiven," pointing to the power of God at work to heal this man. For this, the Scribes accuse him of blasphemy, and that charge will eventually lead to his death.
This encounter reveals that Jesus is the Son of Man, who has the authority to heal and to forgive. It is he who will suffer and return in heavenly glory. We're moving from Epiphany towards Lent and the cross.
But, before we move on: what do we learn about ourselves through this story?-that learning comes in two ways. First, let's place ourselves among the crowd that day. Here were people who knew their need of healing. Here were people desperate for some good news. Here were people who looked up from their day-to-day life and said, "There's more. There's something much more I want for my life and for this world, and I believe that Jesus can offer it to me. I believe that there's a place for me in God's new kingdom and I want to be part of it."
I don't usually encounter that sort of hunger for the gospel except in situations of extremity: in the hospital room, by the deathbed, staring divorce or some kind of addiction in the face. Most of us don't wake up to our need of God until we're in BIG trouble. But in so doing, we miss the power and life God offers us each day. What burdens we carry. What bitterness and resentment we harbor.
God offers us each day that release from the burdens of pain, the brokenness of our past-all the things that keep us less than whole. This is God's gift to us, through Jesus Christ, a gift which we must unwrap and claim as our own. Would that the same eagerness that propelled the crowds to Jesus' door, stir us up and move us down the path to healing.
And think of the determination and gustiness of those four friends that day. They had to face the possibility of failure: Jesus might have been too busy. They could have fallen off the roof. Maybe it wouldn't have worked. They could have looked really stupid and been sorely deceived. It's hard to get involved. It's hard to risk. It's hard to put yourself out.
But you know what? Perhaps the possibility of success was an even scarier thing to contemplate. What if it worked? What if Jesus was the Messiah? What if it was all true, and the Kingdom of God was, indeed, coming very near? What if Jesus can offer us healing and forgiveness that sets us free from our past and all that weighs us down, sets us free to live lives as whole and loving people?
This story doesn't end for these folks when Jesus sets the man free from his mat. His friends' responsibility to him didn't end there. It is just beginning. For now, you see, they are starting to become a new community of love and hope. A set-free people entrusted with the work of the Kingdom themselves. That's what's awesome: the new thing that God is doing in our midst. The power we're given to live as free people, to reach out to others to teach, to preach and to heal. How many of us want to go there? How many of us want to take on the responsibility for what comes next?
What a great story to hear on this day that we baptize infants and an adult and receive new members into the life of our congregation. They've been part of the crowd gathered 'round Jesus' door, eager to hear. It's as if today we've opened the roof and brought them right on in to stand in Jesus' presence. We welcome them in. The work of Jesus now includes them and us, you and me. We are all more whole today because of the commitment of these new folks. All set free in our baptism to receive the gift of forgiveness and healing and new life.
This is a day of new beginnings, for them and for us. Our work isn't done, now that they're signed up on the roll books of the church. It's just beginning.
"Christ is alive and goes before us to show and share what love can do. This is a day of new beginnings. Our God is making all things new!"
Amen.
© Patricia E. Farris, 2003. Permission is given for brief quotation with attribution. All other rights reserved.