Epiphany
VII
J. Thompson
Our
readings this morning are incredibly rich. I thought about preaching several sermons
this morning; you’ll be glad to know that I decided not to do that!
Our
gospel reading is this wonderful story of people so eager to get their
paralyzed friend to Jesus that they tear apart a roof in order to lower him
into the room where Jesus is.
Presumably
they paid for the repairs afterwards so that the vestry didn’t have to worry
about it!
You
might remember that a few weeks ago I said that we would be seeing a lot of
healing stories in Mark; this gospel is chock full of them.
However,
this morning’s reading is one of only two healing stories in Mark that involve
the forgiveness of sins; it’s with that point that I really want to begin the
sermon this morning.
When
this paralyzed man is lowered down through the roof to Jesus, our Lord’s first
response is not to say, as he so often does, “Your faith has made you well.”
Instead,
Jesus sees this man’s friends expressing such astounding faith in the power of
God, and he says to the paralyzed man, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”
Your
sins are forgiven.
Later,
after some discussion, Jesus will say to him, “Stand up and take your mat, and
go to your home.”
Your
sins are forgiven. You are healed.
Modern
medicine affirms the reality that this story tells: that the state of our
spirit affects the state of our body.
We are
whole people; mind, body and spirit can’t be separated one from another.
So how
might talk about the relationship of sin and wellness?
We
might first remember that sin in New Testament terms is about missing the mark,
aiming for a target in our lives other than what God intends for us.
So if
we are carrying with us the weight of guilt because of our goals in life, the
burden affects us: mind, body, and spirit.
It
might even make us physically ill.
Some of
us have known people for whom that has been true.
The man
who is so bitter at the world that the anger he carries with him consumes
everyone around him as well as himself, until he is eaten away by cancer.
Why
does he not choose to offer his pain to God instead, for healing and life?
Or the
woman who so longs to be out of a marriage in which she feels trapped that she
develops severe back pain that ages her before her years.
She
chooses a way out of the relationship that she can accept. But at what cost to
her freedom to serve God that is our birthright, our gift from God, and our
responsibility?
Apparently
Jesus sees that kind of illness in this paralyzed man; whatever burden he
carries has had a radical affect: he is literally unable to move beyond it.
As much
as he needs to hear anything, he needs to hear that God forgives him for the
ways he has missed the mark with his life, that he is free to begin the journey
anew.
Many of
our lives aren’t as dramatic as that, although some of us have struggled
mightily to claim our birthright as God’s children.
Others
of us quietly carry around with us the awareness of our failures, our
weaknesses, those ways in which we have missed the mark in God’s world.
Sometimes
they eat away at our lives over a long period of time: while we remain
apparently functional to the outside world, our soul is dying a slow death
within us.
The
center of our gospel this morning is that we need not live that way any longer.
Those
burdens we carry around with us can be lifted off of us.
We can
let God take them from us and once again be light and free to love and to be
loved as we were created.
The
journey can begin anew.
Our
first reading from Isaiah begins with the words, “Do not remember the former
things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing . . . ,”
and it ends with the words: “I, I am He who blots out your transgressions for
my own sake, and I will not remember
your sins.”
There’s
some discussion about the opening words, “Do not remember the former things, or
consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing.”
They
might refer to the ways that God has redeemed the people of
Or the
words might refer to the judgment upon
Maybe
it refers to both.
In any
case, the focus is clearly on the future, the future that God is bringing about for those who trust more in God than in
themselves, whatever the past has been.
Last
week Sidnie did an admirable job of talking about Lenten disciplines. One of
the ones she mentioned was private confession.
There’s
a saying about private confession in the Episcopal Church:
“All
may, none must, some should.”
Most
parishes talk about private confession so infrequently that many people aren’t
even aware that we offer it within the Episcopal Church.
That’s
too bad, really, because I have seen it serve as one of the ways the Hoy Spirit
has swept through the life of people to bring about healing, the kind of
healing that comes with the forgiveness of God: through the recollection of
imperfect lives, and the laying of them before God in the presence of another
human being: a human being who reassures us that the judgment is passed, that
we are forgiven, that we are welcome – fully welcome – in the arms of our God.
And
that we are free to get on with the grand journey of glorifying God with our
lives.
Some of
us should make use of private confession, or “the rite of reconciliation,” as
it’s currently known, not because we’ve been so horrible, but because God longs
to be fully reconciled with us, and God can’t do it alone; we must participate
in our own reconciliation.
We have
to tear away at the things that keep us from getting to Jesus and being healed.
Jesus
shows us on the cross how far God goes to embrace us with loving arms and not
with crippling judgment.
The
question becomes: how far are we
willing to go?
Will we
let ourselves be embraced?
Or
would we rather stay at our arms
length?
Do we
want to be on the inside of that house with Jesus, or are we more comfortable
at a distance, remaining on the outside?
One way
to think of the church is as those friends in the gospel this morning, bringing
others to Jesus, carrying their burdens if we must, helping them to tear away
obstacles if it is necessary, helping them to get closer to the healing power
of God, helping those who carry burdens to their source of healing.
Do we
want to be on the inside of that house with Jesus - or do we want to remain on
the outside?
Are we
willing to let God be God, to heal us, and then to participate in that grand
work of carrying God to others, and sometimes others to God?
May God
grant us the will to do so, and the grace and the power to accomplish it.
Amen.