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January 25, 2009
Matthew 9:1-8“Walking Forgiveness”
Rev. David A. Davis
I wonder what he saw. I wonder what Jesus saw right then, just after he had been in a boat coming back across the Sea of Galilee, just as he came ashore at his own town, back in Capernaum. “And just then” Matthew writes “some people were carrying a paralyzed man lying on a bed. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘take heart son; your sins are forgiven.’” When Jesus saw their faith; I wonder what he saw.
When Mark tells the story of the paralytic, he describes the scene of house where so many were gathered that there was no longer any room, not even around the door. In fact, Mark tells that when Jesus had returned to Capernaum, it was reported that he was at home. The crowded house, the house so full, the house where four men cut an opening in the roof, it was according to Mark, apparently the home where Jesus was staying. Luke tells something of the same story as well. Luke doesn’t identify the home, but he tells of a crowd of Pharisees and teachers of the law who had come from every village of Galilee and Judea and Jerusalem. Luke records that “men were bringing on a bed a man who was paralyzed, and they sought to bring him in and lay him before Jesus.” Mark and Luke make it pretty clear, what it was that Jesus saw: crowds, hole in the roof, a sick man on a bed, stretcher bearers with no small amount of effort, bringing the sick man right to the feet of Jesus. And when Jesus saw their faith….
But when it comes to setting the scene, when it comes to unpacking what Jesus saw, Matthew is a bit sparse. When it comes to the healing of the paralytic, Matthew is rather unadorned. Matthew takes the role of the minimalist; not much detail, not a lot to chew on. It’s bare bones and simple. “And just then some people were carrying a paralyzed man lying on a bed. When Jesus saw their faith….”
Readers of Mark and Luke, they get to paint a bit of picture; a dramatic scene of a full house and a roof top entry. That’s the story we remember from Mrs. Weddle’s 2nd grade Sunday School class. Matthew’s readers, well, those with a critical eye, maybe they rush to the argument. It’s all in the argument. It’s all in the deteriorating relationship with the religious authorities; blaspheming, forgiving sins, stand up and walk. Or for those drawn to the philosophy of it all, those who enjoy those endless late night dorm room conversations about evil, and theodicy and why God lets bad things happen. The relationship of sin and illness is what to talk about here. Or readers may be drawn to the drama of it all, you just can’t help rushing to the end. “Stand up, take your bed and go to your home.” The man stood up and went home. And the crowds and the followers of Jesus and the church and the readers of Matthew’s gospel , they are all filled with awe and they all want to glorify God and they are humbled by the power and the authority of this Jesus….all as they watch that paralytic walk home. As they see forgiveness walking home.
But right at the beginning, right when Jesus stepped off the boat, when he came back to his own town, here in Matthew with so few words and hardly any detail, just then when some people were carrying a paralyzed man lying on a bed. When, according to Matthew, right then when Jesus saw their faith…..what did he see?
On Monday night, the community Martin Luther King service was held at Mt. Pisgah AME Church on Witherspoon Street. During the service two young women from the host church offered a liturgical dance to the contemporary gospel song “Praise is What I Do.” During their dance, there were some pretty bad audio problems. The music was cutting in and cutting out while the two were dancing in the sanctuary so full of people. From where I was sitting up in the chancel, I watched as one choir member a row or two in front of me began to sing along with the broken recording. “Praise is what I do…and I vow to praise you through the good and the bad, I’ll praise you whether happy or sad.” Then a few more joined in to sing. The recording actually got worse, but folks just kept singing when it cut out and they were singing when it came back. “I’ll praise you in all I go through, because praise is what I do.” The dancers never stopped. An usher in the back provided percussion when needed. People who didn’t know the song would join in the refrain; “through the good and the bad, I’ll praise you whether happy or sad.”
That’s when I noticed a member of the choir from the Jewish Center, an older man, he wasn’t watching the dancers at all. He was trying to follow the woman in the Mt. Pisgah choir, trying to read her lips, trying to keep up with her, so he could sing along. I saw several people in tears by the end of the song. Was it the courage of the young women to keep dancing? Was it the beauty of the dance itself? Was it that moment of community where everyone had a part to play? Where everyone helped them along? I guess the answer is yes. That’s what I saw from my spot there behind the choir.
Reports made it to the national news this week that told of a high school girls basketball game that ended in a score of 100-0. It was game between Dallas Academy, a very small school with a total enrollment of twenty girls or so, and the Covenant Christian School, the winners of the game. Reports tell of the winning team continuing to press and shoot three pointers well into the second half, and of fans cheering as the score approached 100. Some of the responses on blogs and call in shows have been as interesting and appalling as the score itself. We should reward excellence not failure. That small school shouldn’t have a team if the can’t compete. How can you expect kids to play any less than their best? But for those who were there, players, coaches, parents, siblings, fans, those who were really in the gym that afternoon. I wonder what they saw?
I talked to R.T. Moses this week. Many of you know R.T., he grew up in the church. Now he is a reporter in New York City and he was on the scene there along the Hudson River a bit more than a week ago as the ferry boats brought passengers to shore and the emergency responders loaded folks into ambulances and a big old transit bus to take them to area hospitals. “You know, it was remarkably calm and orderly” R.T. said. Then he told me about people doing what they are trained to do. Responding in the moment. Coming from every direction to help. Making it all look almost simple. Rescuers. Ferry boat captains. Passengers. Flight crew. Witnesses. Imagine what people must have seen that day.
Jesus came back across the Sea of Galilee to his own town. Before he gave the scribes a lesson on authority and the power it takes to forgive sins, before he called out to the paralytic telling him to stand up and walk, before he healed that man, and before the man walked home both healed and forgiven, before the crowds were filled with awe and glorified God, before all of that Jesus saw some people who were carrying a paralyzed man lying on a bed. Jesus saw their faith.
It’s not like the leper who said “Lord if you choose, you can make me clean.” Or the centurion who understood the authority that Jesus had to heal. In Matthew’s pared down account, those bed bearers don’t say anything to Jesus, don’t ask anything of Jesus. The notion that they were intending to drop the man right at Jesus’ feet can only be implied. Jesus might have seen them early enough that it wasn’t even clear where they were headed. Their piety or religiosity isn’t in play here. There isn’t any word from the narrator that Jesus saw into their heart, like with the scribes when it says he “perceived their thoughts.” It isn’t an outstanding, attention getting, lower through the roof kind of effort. There’s no indication that they represent good theology or sound doctrine or that they cling to the right opinion about this issue or that. It’s kind of simple in Matthew, really. It all starts so simply.
Jesus saw some people carrying a man who was paralyzed. Some people; they could have friends or strangers or family. In that moment they were together in an act of compassion. They were showing mercy. They were doing kindness. Two, three, four, five, Matthew doesn’t say how many. Numberless, nameless, faceless, at least for a time, selfless. Known to Jesus here because they were carrying that man. That’s what Jesus saw. Jesus saw their faith.
I wonder if others saw it too. Their faith, I mean. Like a Samaritan passing by, the one Jesus would describe as a neighbor. The one history would call good. Maybe James was there and saw it. You know James, “be doers of the word, and not merely hearers….” Apostles, disciples, followers, prophets, preachers, a great cloud of witnesses must have seen their faith too, how it all started so simply, when they carried that man.
Howard Thurman, a great teacher and theologian of the 20th century, wrote about what happens in the weeks after Christmas….
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner
To rebuild the nations
To bring peace among brothers
To make music of the heart.
You have to wonder what Jesus saw when he saw those people carrying the man on his bed, what was it when he saw their faith? Enough has been made these last decades of that question lifted from Charles Sheldon and his book In His Steps (1896)—what would Jesus do…..wwjd…
But….I wonder, can your imagine, do you ever think about here and now, our life together, this community of faith, our rather broken attempt at church, the journey we take together in discipleship, how you and me, how together we are the body of Christ, his hands, his feet, you, me, two, three, four, five, numberless, nameless, faceless, God knows if ever selfless….do you ever wonder what Jesus sees?
© 2009, Property of Nassau Presbyterian Church
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