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The Healing Of The Paralytic

This miracle story is unique, because it tells of an event which interrupted a sermon. And an unusual interruption it was. Jesus had been preaching about the Kingdom of God when suddenly pieces of dried clay and bits of brushwood started to tumble down from the ceiling. The startled congregation took their attention from the preacher and watched with stunned curiosity as a hole was formed in the ceiling by fingers clawing away at the mud structure. And then, to the open-mouthed amazement of the crowd, through the yawning gap in the roof the body of a man lying on a mat was lowered to the floor in front of Jesus.

There was a stunned silence. No one spoke. No requests or pleas for help were spoken -- just the silence broken only by the sound of the last remaining bits of debris as they broke loose, fell, and hit the hard floor. Then Jesus spoke, "My Son, God is not angry at you."

This is a strange story, filled with suspense, surprise, and spiritual depths. For here we see our Lord revealing a side of his personality seldom seen. He invades the prerogative of God and speaks a word of pardon and power. He does what even the Messiah cannot do. He forgives sins. And to the surprise of all, the earth does not open up and swallow him. Is it any wonder that Mark ends the story by having the people say, "We've never seen anything like this before"?

The Characters Of The Drama

The plot begins when four men who have heard about the healings of Jesus decide to take their paralytic friend to him. It took time to get the stretcher ready and prepare the paralytic for the trip, so they were late in arriving at the meeting. By the time they got there, the crowd was so great that the stretcher-bearers could not get close enough to the master to present their friend. But such an obstacle is only a challenge to men of determination and ingenuity. Where they could not find a way, they made one. They climbed the stairs to the flat roof of the house and with their bare hands tore an opening in the ceiling and lowered their helpless friend to the feet of Jesus. But it was worth all the risk and effort, for their friend, who before could look at life only from the flat of his back, now stood tall like other men. He was given new legs and because of this he was now able to look at life with new eyes.

These persons involved in this drama have been suggestive to interpreters of distinct types of behavior we find in the Christian Church.

Roadblockers

The first and largest group are the roadblockers. This was the crowd whose presence at the door of the house prevented the paralytic from entering to see Jesus. Some take on the role of road-blockers quite deliberately. They view the church as the gathering of the good. They assume the responsibility of sentinels guarding the church from the contamination of undesirables. They set up their own standards for being a member of the fellowship. They keep away those who do not measure up to "our" church. They refuse to speak to strangers and fail to make them feel welcome, particularly those who look different and come from a social status or ethnic background different from their own. Oh, they are polite with their exclusiveness, suggesting that such people would find a "better" church home "down the street" where they would be more happy with their "own kind."

Most roadblockers in the church, however, are not this intentional; they simply get in the way without even realizing it. They are so engrossed in straining to see Jesus themselves or struggling for a front row position so that Jesus won't miss seeing them, that they fail to see they are standing in the way of those outside who need to be brought into his presence. They are so hung up on assuring their own personal salvation and assurance of heaven that they overlook the lonely, the brokenhearted, the frightened, and the insecure. Their favorite hymn is "Jesus Savior, Pilot Me," and the heck with everybody else.

Then there are those roadblockers who represent their faith poorly. They claim allegiance to Christ and boast of their perfect attendance record and generous stewardship, but display in their daily contacts with others greed, prejudice, and hypocrisy. They misrepresent their Lord to the world and thereby stand as roadblocks to people searching for a meaningful life of faith.

Stretcher-Bearers

The second type found in our story are the stretcher-bearers, represented by the four men who bring their friend to Jesus. They live their lives opened to the needs of others, are willing to sacrifice themselves, give their time, go out of their way to help others come to Christ. They are not overaggressive salesmen forcing or harassing people to buy into Christendom; rather, they are quiet and personal in their approach showing genuine interest and concern for people. They are always ready and willing to give a helping hand to anyone who indicates an interest in knowing Jesus Christ. They witness to God's love in their own sincere love for others.

For the most part, these are unnamed people. They form the supporting cast without which the play could not go on.

When Linus discovered he was only going to be the innkeeper in the Christmas play with no lines to speak, he refused. But Lucy assured him, "True, you didn't get a lead part, but without you there will be no Christmas pageant." So this army of unnamed men and women marches across the pages of Scripture. They never see their names up in "lights," but the light which is Christ could never be seen without their quiet unapplauded support. Stretcher-bearers -- those who carry others to Christ and then quietly slip away into the background of the history of salvation. We need more of them!

Barrier-Breakers

The third type are the barrier-breakers. These are the aggressive leaders within the church who are represented by the action of determination that tore the opening in the roof above our Lord. They are the people who, finding some ways blocked, make new ways to Christ. In times of stress, God calls, empowers, and directs these people to stand up and meet the challenge of their day. When Israel was in slavery, God raised up a Moses to lead the chosen people to the promised land. When the children of God turned from God to follow their own ways, God empowered an Isaiah, a Jeremiah, an Elijah to prophesy and call the people to turn about-face. When the Gentile world needed to be invaded, a Paul was directed to lead God's people across forbidden frontiers. When philosophy was about to supplant theology, an Aquinas and an Augustine were called. When ritual and church structure were about to smother the gospel, God raised up a Calvin and a Luther to free people with the knowledge of the true and lively Word. In our own day, when the Roman church became immune to the course of human history, God raised up a John XXIII who brought the warm blood of common humanity back into the anemic arteries of the church.

This is always our hope. In every hour of darkness and despair and religious depression, God raises up, calls, and empowers barrier-breakers who open up new ways -- where no new ways are found, they make them.

So these types of persons -- the roadblockers, the stretcher-bearers, the barrier-breakers -- form the background of our drama. They create the setting in which our Lord might act and reveal himself to us.

The Faith Of Friends

Mark then directs our attention to Jesus. "When they had made an opening, they let the man down, lying on his mat." Then Mark adds, "When Jesus saw their faith." Scholars are concerned with who the word "their" refers to. Does Mark mean the faith of the four men who brought the paralytic to Jesus, or does the word "their" include the paralytic?

Van der Loos believes this statement to be an important issue, as all the Gospel writers who record this story are unanimous that Jesus paid heed to this expression of faith. He is convinced the word "their" included the faith of the sick man. He writes, "There is no reason to assume that 'their faith' must be confined to that of the bearers; they all believe in the power of Jesus,"1 by this he includes the faith of the paralytic. Many interpreters disagree.

Sherman Johnson in his commentary on Mark takes the most reasonable position when he states, "Here the man's own faith is not excluded, but that of his helpers is emphasized."2 When the faith of the friends is taken as important, we are confronted with the issue of "representative faith," a vital aspect of the New Testament's understanding of faith.

Representative Faith

The concept of representative faith is often difficult for us to understand, as we view faith as an individual possession of a particular person. It is one of the virtues of human personality like courage, honesty, and a sense of humor. And to some extent this is true. But faith is so much more. It is a shared virtue of a fellowship. It is something we possess because we are a part of something bigger than ourselves.

To understand faith we need to see that the idea of individuality, as we use the word, is foreign to the biblical mind. The Bible does not think in terms of an individual but of a person, and there is a vital difference. To discover an individual you isolate a person, insofar as possible, from all outside influences and relationships. It is the sterile laboratory approach of the scientist who attempts to isolate the specimen to be studied into as vacuum-like an environment as possible so that the object can be known in and of itself.

However, a person in the biblical sense is established by just the opposite approach. Here you are concerned to see the person in his environment and to discover all the inter-personal relationships possible. You are concerned to know what kind of a husband he is to his wife, what kind of a father to his children, what kind of a son to his parents, what kind of a neighbor to the people who live next door. Personhood is discovered and realized in relationships.

The Bible is concerned with people, not as individuals but as persons. God calls and establishes "a people" -- "persons in a relationship." He does not deal singly with them but corporately. When Christ comes to establish the Kingdom, the first act of his ministry is to establish a discipleship -- a family where faith might be a corporate experience shared in a fellowship.

It is true that no one can have faith for another, but it is equally true that no one can have faith without another. The faith we possess has been given to us by God through others. Faith does not fall miraculously from heaven like manna. It is not discovered dormant deep within ourselves, awakened with our own self-determined effort. No! It was given to us by God through our parents, teachers, pastors, or friends who witnessed to us and told us about God our Lord and Savior.

There is the well-known story about a man visiting hell. People were seated about a table loaded with luscious food, but every one of them was starving to death. The reason was obvious -- every person's elbow was bound with splints so that it was impossible for the people to bend their arms and bring the food to their mouths. The same man visited heaven. The situation was surprisingly the same -- a table loaded with food. People seated before it with their elbows bound, but there was one decisive difference -- everyone was well fed.

The visitor turned to his guide. "Why," he asked, "are the people in heaven well fed when they wear the same elbow-binding splints as those in hell?" "Well, my friend," the guide replied, "here in heaven the people have discovered that even though they cannot bend their elbows to feed themselves, they can with unbending arms feed each other."

So faith is a shared experience in fellowship. We cannot possess faith for another, but we can enable another to have faith. At that strange banquet described above, no one could eat the food for his neighbor. Each person had to do his own eating, but no person could eat without being fed by another. So faith is corporate. Faith depends on a fellowship where we share faith with each other, thereby enabling all to have faith.

During a hike in the woods, some young people came across an abandoned section of railroad track. Several of them tried walking the rails, but eventually lost their balance and tumbled off.

Two little boys, off to the side watching the attempts, were laughing and whispering. Then they jumped onto the tracks. They offered to bet anyone that they could both walk the entire length of the track without falling off. Challenged to make good their boast, the two boys standing on opposite rails joined hands, thus balancing each other, and proceeded to walk the entire section of the track with no difficulty whatever.

So as we attempt to walk alone through life in faith, we so easily lose our balance and fall. What we need is to join hands with others in faith and then we can achieve the delicate balance needed to maintain faith.

Our miracle story of Christ healing the paralytic is dramatic enactment of the inter-relatedness which is the faith situation. Someone told someone who told someone who told the four men about Jesus Christ. And they carried the precious cargo of their helpless friend to the feet of Jesus. It was in a stranger's house and not his own that he was healed. It was a complex cluster of circumstances that made possible the miracle story. So many hands had helped that one man's legs might be healed and his heart made whole.

The Gesture Of Faith

In addition to the word "their" in this statement made about Jesus, there is another provocative word, "saw." "When Jesus saw their faith." Lourie points out that this reminds us that "faith is a thing that can be seen."3

So often we think of faith in terms of inner belief, or the confession of a creed, a commitment made, or a story testified to. But faith is also something to do. It can be seen in a person's face. A truly holy faith is expressed in a happy face. How seldom do we Christians look like redeemed people and how seldom do we act like it.

When we stand at the check-out of the supermarket do we treat the cashier as a part of the register, automatically scanning the items, or is she a person to us? Do we consider that they have stood longer serving a line than we have waiting in it? Do we realize they pay the same outlandish prices for food that we do? Do we treat them as persons with feelings and needs just as we have? Are we kind, considerate, and caring? A smile, a friendly word, acknowledging them as persons -- respecting the dignity of their humanity -- are gestures of faith that can be given and seen!

A few months after moving to a small town, a woman complained to a neighbor about the poor service at the local drugstore. She hoped the neighbor would repeat her complaint to the owner.

The next time she went to the drugstore, the druggist greeted her with a big smile, told her how happy he was to see her again, and if there was anything he could do for her just to let him know.

Later the woman reported the miraculous change to her friend. "I suppose you told the owner how poor I thought the service was?" she asked.

"Well, no," her neighbor answered. "In fact, I told him you were amazed at the way he had built up this small town drugstore, and that you thought it was one of the best managed drugstores you'd ever seen."

Now this neighbor was not only wise in the ways of this world; she applied her faith in the positive power of love. She treated that druggist as a person for whom Christ had died. We do not have to ask everyone we meet if they have been saved to witness to Jesus Christ and his gospel. We can do it with our friendly, considerate attitude, our actions of kindness and courtesy, and our practice of love. Faith is something that can be seen! Mark writes, "When Jesus saw what faith they had."

God Is Not Angry With You

The first word Christ speaks to the paralytic is, "My son, your sins are forgiven." This can be best understood if we express what Jesus is saying in more familiar terms. Namely, Jesus is saying, "Son, God is not angry with you."

This handicapped man was a Jew and he had been taught all his life that suffering was a direct punishment for sins. If a person were ill, it was because he had displeased God. Misfortune, affliction, and pain were all ways in which God punished the offender against his holy will.

Today many of us feel the same way. Although we no longer believe there is a direct relationship between suffering and sin as the Jews did in Jesus' day, deep down inside ourselves we have a feeling that when something goes wrong in our lives we have done something bad. One of the ways some parents punish their children is to send them to bed without their supper. Similarly a person lying on a bed of pain feels he is being punished. They ask, "Why did this happen to me?" or "What did I ever do to deserve this?"

There is little doubt that we have all done sufficient wrongs in our lives that no matter what suffering we have to face, it is deserved. But this was not the teaching of our Lord, nor is it the theological position of the Christian faith today. Afflictions are caused by the natural process of cause and effect, in a fallen world where there is suffering, disease, and death. Because we live in this fallen world we are the victims of it. Now in one sense we are responsible, for as persons we share the inheritance of a race that has rebelled against God and brought the world to its fallen state. But individual afflictions are not the direct result of personal sins.

The paralytic, however, being a man of his day, believed he was standing under the judgment of an angry God. He came to Jesus knowing he had done wrong and was being punished for it. The first thing Jesus does is to set the record straight. He says, "God is not angry with you." Or in other words, "This crippled condition of your body is not God's doing. It is not his will; rather God wants to help and heal you."

This is the starting point of any problem facing us -- the knowledge that God is not angry with us but wants to help and heal us. As we strive for healing, wholeness, and happiness, God is on our side! God is not working against us but for us!

Change Needed

Since the Jews as a religious race accepted affliction as divine punishment for their sins, they felt that the first thing that had to be done was to change God's attitude toward them. God was angry and therefore needed to be appeased. So they created a complex system of offerings and sacrifices designed to change God. Christ came with the message that it was not God who needed to be changed but us. God loves us and wants us to be whole, but we refuse his offer of love.

A little boy visited his grandfather who was seriously ill with a contagious disease. He watched his grandmother boil in scalding water all the dishes that his grandfather had used. After several days of seeing his grandmother going to all this trouble, he remarked to her, "Wouldn't it be easier to boil grandfather?"

Behind this childlike remark is a profound truth. It would not only be easier but more efficient and that is the position taken by the New Testament theology. What is needed is not to purify our environment but to purify us. It is not the circumstances of the world about us, but the state or condition within us, that holds the solution to our problems. Christ came with the teaching and the proclamation that we must be born again -- that is that we need to be changed -- not God. We need to be washed and cleansed not with boiling water, but with the water of the spirit that in our baptism makes us new men and women.

A young bride from the East followed her husband to an Army camp on the edge of the desert in California. Living conditions were primitive, at best. The only housing they could find was a run-down shack near an Indian village. The heat was unbearable in the daytime -- 115 degrees in the shade. The wind blew constantly, spreading dust and sand over everything. The days were long and boring.

When her husband was ordered farther into the desert for two months of maneuvers, loneliness and the wretched condition got the best of her. She wrote to her mother that she was coming home -- she couldn't take it any more. In a short time she received a reply. The letter contained just two lines:

Two men looked out from prison bars.
One man saw mud, the other stars.

She read the lines over and over again, each time feeling a little more ashamed of herself. She knew her husband loved her and she didn't want to let him down. All right, she'd look for the stars.

In the following days, she set out to make friends with her Indian neighbors. She asked them to teach her weaving and pottery. She began to study the desert. She learned the forms of the cacti, the yuccas, and the Joshua trees. She collected seashells that had been left millions of years ago when the sands had been the ocean floor. She became an expert on this area and began to write a book about it. She was happier than she had ever been in her life. What had changed? The heat? The desert? No! She had changed.

As baptized Christians, we have been changed and cleansed. We no longer stand under God's judgment and condemnation, but within his love. The tragedy is that we still live in the mud and fail to see the stars. We do not realize and utilize the great gifts of faith and grace which God has so freely given to us.

God does not force forgiveness upon us. He respects our freedom. He sends his son to die for us. He establishes the good news of this forgiveness in the Holy Scriptures and even provides the Holy Spirit, enabling us to appropriate that forgiveness in our lives. But he will go no further. We can still refuse it, ignore it, live as if it were not so. And that is why it is so important that we hear the Word constantly promising our forgiven state. The beginning step to the solution of all our problems is the knowledge -- the awareness -- the appropriation -- the celebration of this first fact of faith: "My son, God is not angry with you."

Reactions Varied

The reactions to these words of Jesus to the paralytic first were varied. The people there that day expected to witness a healing, but Jesus pronounced a word of absolution. Some were surprised, others were disappointed, and a few were angered.

Surprise

Most of the people in the crowd were surprised. Some were even shocked to find a man in the streets forgiving sins -- even a man who claimed to come from God. For, in the times of our Lord, forgiveness was not the common experience of worship that it is today.

Forgiveness was an extremely limited experience. Forgiveness was associated with the temple and particularly with the Day of Atonement when one man, the High Priest, penetrated the forbidden veil of the temple and stepped into the Holy of Holies where God dwelled. As the representative of the people, the High Priest stood in the presence of God awaiting his word of forgiveness. The people stood outside in wonderment and awe, separated from the Holy God by a massive system of ritual and regulations. Forgiveness was a dim and distant thing -- something that was handed down to them indirectly from the priests.

Then suddenly and unexpectedly a carpenter's son stands in the streets and speaks the words -- the words of God himself. "My son, your sins are forgiven!" Is it any wonder that most of the people were surprised and some even shocked? Forgiveness pronounced by a layman in the streets rather than by the High Priest in the courts of the temple? Luke expresses this when he states the reaction of the crowd at the end of his account of the story. Literally, he has the people saying, "You would never believe what we saw happen today!"

Disappointment

As some were surprised and shocked, others were disappointed. They knew that Jesus had been preaching and proclaiming across the land that the Kingdom of God had come. That is why they were there that day. In their minds the Kingdom meant, "No more want! No more tyranny! No more disease!" This is what they wanted to hear. After all, it was the promise of their beloved prophet Isaiah:

Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
then shall the lame man leap like a hart and the tongue of the dumb sing for joy.
-- Isaiah 35:5-6

They were an earthly people and to them the Kingdom meant health, wealth, security, and happiness, for all. As they stood there watching the exciting scene of the paralytic lowered into the presence of Jesus, they expected to see a miracle -- the material dreams and visions of their old prophets of Israel actualized before their eyes. The lame man would, any minute, leap up like a young deer. A work of wonder! A miracle right before their eyes! How exciting! But instead Jesus simply and softly spoke to him, "My son, your sins are forgiven."

The crowd was disappointed, but none so much as the four men who after great trouble had finally managed to bring their paralyzed friend into the healing presence of Jesus. They were not concerned with forgiveness and guilt; their ritualistic systems and priesthood took care of such matters. They were practical men. They were concerned with healed legs, not liturgical pronouncements of forgiveness.

Now we can identify with and understand their reaction, for how often we have felt the same way, faced the same disappointment. Our God is a God of love and power; therefore, why doesn't he do something directly about our urgent human problems -- poverty, disease, bad housing, starvation, social justice, and human rights? We, too, are an earthly people. We have to live every day with suffering and slums all about us. Why doesn't God work a few of his miracles today -- for us? What is so frustrating is that we try hard and fail; but for God it would be such an easy, effortless task. Just a minute movement of his finger and all the headaches and heartaches of our world would be cured.

Jesus, however, gives no encouragement to our desires for quick and easy solutions. In fact, he deliberately directs our attention in the other direction. He does not deny our dreams for physical and material perfection; he just puts them in the proper order of priorities.

When he is faced with the Canaanite woman and the issue of Jew and Gentile and their places in the Kingdom, he follows a carefully conceived order. First, the Jews then the Gentiles. So here he places material, physical problems in their right place in God's order of things. And as we see from the miracle story before us, they are not in first place.

Christ says that the first thing to be dealt with is the basic relationship between God and his people. This means that forgiveness is first. Then -- when we are restored to a right relationship to our God -- then, as Wallace points out, "He will fulfill the further promise of complete healing of the redemption of the bodies of men from corruption and death, and the bringing in of lasting human happiness and prosperity."4

We need to remind ourselves that when we are called to proclaim the coming of the Kingdom, that coming is expressed in the signs of people being released from the burden of guilt, the removal of the fear of judgment and the restored relationships with God and our fellowmen. We are not called to promise the immediate release of suffering and sickness, want and war, disease and death. These issues which plague all of us must be endured with patience and hope, knowing that in their proper order and in God's own time, these things, too, shall pass away and physical wholeness and earthly peace will be ours. Until then we are to trust God.

Anger And Delight

The first reaction of the scribes was one of anger. They were men well schooled in the written Law of God and its oral interpretation. According to Lane,5 also considered themselves guardians of the teaching office. There was little doubt in their minds of a direct relationship between sin and suffering. All disease and physical handicaps were the direct result of sin. If a person were to be cured, he must first be forgiven. So they believed and so they taught.

The scribes, however, were not in Capernaum by accident this particular day. They were intent upon gathering evidence against Jesus in order to build up a case against him that would eventually hold up in court. They listened carefully to the sermon Jesus preached. Apparently there was nothing he said that disturbed them. Then the sermon was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of the paralytic. Again, nothing too disturbing. It was what they had expected, having heard of Jesus' reputation as a healer. But then Jesus broke the awkward silence created by the interruption of his sermon and spoke the words, "My son, your sins are forgiven!" The scribes were instantly angered, but afterwards when they had a chance to compose themselves, they were smugly delighted.

Their instant anger was for two reasons. First, as Harvey points out, Jesus did not speak "with the voice of a prophet (who might have claimed to know that the man was about to recover, and who could have said in virtue of this knowledge, that it must be the case that the Lord had forgiven him). Jesus declared outright that the man was forgiven and so implicitly claimed the authority to dispense God's forgiveness himself."6 This was sheer blasphemy to the scribes. No man could forgive sins -- only God could. This young upstart from Nazareth is not just claiming to be a prophet sent from God; he is assuming to be God.

And if this were not enough, he is also misrepresenting God. The Lord of the Temple ritual would never speak so casually about forgiveness. The very structure of their religion demanded that forgiveness be taken seriously. In the estimation of the scribes, Jesus was taking forgiveness too lightly. And this was the second reason for their instant anger.

Sherman Johnson summarizes the belief of the scribes: "Forgiveness depends, according to Judaism, on true repentance -- sorrow for sins, open acknowledgment of it, and resolute turning away from it, together with such restrictions as may be possible."7

The scribes heard no word of repentance from the paralytic, no promise to live a better life. They heard no words of penance from Jesus, no reprimand -- no restrictions -- no instructions to lead the better life and obey the Law. Is it any wonder that in the scribes' estimation Jesus was not only guilty of assuming a role exclusively belonging to God, but he was also robbing forgiveness of its meaning?

Cheap Grace

Today we would identify this objection of the scribes as being the complaint of cheap grace -- the idea that God forgives without the requirement of repentance. Whenever the gospel of free and unmerited forgiveness is proclaimed, there are always those voices who raise the objection, "Cheap grace!" And this is natural, for people are incurably self-oriented. If the forgiven person pays no price personally, then grace is cheap. But grace given by our Lord can never be called cheap, for it cost him his very life to freely give it.

When Jesus claimed the right to freely pronounce the paralytic forgiven, he did it seeing the shadow of the cross falling across his path, and he knew that he had come to offer himself a ransom for our forgiveness.

During the American Revolution, a father took his young son to a hill above a valley where American patriots had just driven back the British forces at great cost. Spread before them was a vast valley of suffering and death. The smoke of battle still lingered in the air. The snow-covered ground was dyed red with patriot's blood. The moans of wounded and dying men softly broke the deadly silence. The father placed his arm about his son and, looking toward the valley below, said, "Look long and well and remember -- this is the horrible cost of your freedom!"

Who dares stand before the hill of Calvary and face the cross whereon our Savior dies? Who can view those innocent hands and feet pierced by cold nails of iron -- that side torn open by a soldier's spear -- that holy head crowned with thorns -- who can look into those lonely, longing, loving eyes of our Lord hanging there for us with mocking spittle running down his face, mixed with tears and blood, and declare any act of God's grace "cheap"?

We may cheapen ourselves by failing to appreciate and appropriate the grace of God into our lives, but in the light of the cross, no grace which comes from God is cheap. For the passion and pain of that cross is the price Christ pays for our forgiveness. Therefore, look long and well and remember.

The Tables Are Turned

As we have pointed out, the immediate reaction of the scribes was anger; but, when they had pulled themselves together and remembered why they had come to Capernaum, they were delighted. They had come desiring proof and they now had it. Jesus was definitely guilty of blasphemy. There was no doubt about that. He, a mere man, had forgiven the paralytic's sins and only God had the power and the authority to do that. Positive proof! That's what they came to get and that's what they had.

But, cunning men that they were, they kept their mouths closed. This was not the right time to publicly accuse Jesus and declare him a blasphemer. They were determined to destroy him and they knew this required the right time and the right place to expose him.

Jesus, however, proved still more cunning than they. He read the crafty minds of his enemies. He exposed their hidden secret thoughts, and directly confronted them: "Why are you thinking such wicked, vicious thoughts?" The scribes were taken aback and truly shaken. Their cover had been suddenly blown. Jesus continued, "Which is easier -- to tell this man his sins are forgiven or to tell him to get up and walk?" What a question! Neither is easy. Both forgiveness and healing require divine power. And in the same breath Jesus added, "But that you may know the Son of Man has power on earth to forgive sins." Then he turned to the paralytic and said, "Rise, take up your bed and walk." And the healed man left for home with his bed-roll tucked neatly under his arm.

Great! With a single, simple stroke, Jesus crushed the insinuation that his forgiving the paralytic was a mere pretense. The scribes wanted incontrovertible proof that Jesus was a blasphemer. Jesus turned the tables on them. He mounted a marvelous counterattack and gave them incontrovertible evidence that he was God! What a Lord!

A Validating Sign

Now the words Jesus spoke to the scribes create some problems for the interpreters. Here Jesus says, "I will prove to you that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins." Many times before, Jewish leaders had challenged him to present a sign that would prove his claims and each time he had refused. But now, without being asked, he gives a sign to, in his own words, prove his act of forgiveness.

It may have been that in the past Jesus refused to do signs because he was being tempted by the Jews. Now he did it by his own decision -- not directed by anyone except God. But there is another possible explanation. What Jesus is doing here in this miracle is not so much proving his authority as validating it. The difference is slight but significant. To prove something, you provide evidence to produce a change in attitude on the part of an accuser or to influence an opinion. To validate something, you support it with an additional claim. You literally bind the action, stamp it with approval. To validate you enhance the action rather than argue its truth with evidence.

This is what Jesus is doing, validating his action of forgiveness with the additional action of healing. If Jesus could read their minds and recognize their thoughts, then he also knew that no proof would change the scribes' minds. And he was right, for even though it seems that Mark includes the scribes when he describes the reaction to the miracle with the words, "They were all amazed and praised God," we know the scribes were not convinced or amazed. They were angered and perhaps a little disappointed that their scheming silence had backfired on them, but above all they were determined -- deadly determined -- to destroy Jesus. That very night they met together and passionately plotted how this blasphemer might be publicly exposed and eliminated forever.

The Son Of Man

The second term which concerns interpreters is Jesus' use of the title "Son of Man." It appears in the New Testament some eighty times and always on the lips of Jesus. It was the favorite title he used to refer to himself.

Jones remarks that it is "a semi-poetic Aramaic expression which in itself means simply 'man.' "8 In Daniel 7:13-14, the Son of Man was a person of authority, sovereignty, glory, and kingly power. He was a real hero figure, a man of the people, a superstar who would restore the Jewish people to an ascendancy among the people of the world that was being denied the Jews at the present time. As Harvey points out, "In the days of our Lord the 'Son of Man' figure fired the imagination of the Jews."9

Geldenhuys is convinced that here Jesus is directly presenting himself as a Messianic figure. "His Messianic claim could not have been more uncompromisingly made; and it is plain that for him the title 'Son of Man' was primarily one which denoted his Messianic dignity -- one moreoever, which he habitually preferred to 'Messiah' because of the political connotations which the latter bore in the popular mind of his day."10 Most scholars disagree and feel that this is just too early in his ministry for such a public presentation of his Messiahship.

So far as our study is concerned, it is enough simply to see Jesus here claiming the right and the authority to forgive sins on earth. His use of the Son of Man title is but another example of the way in which he claimed authority without a direct reference to himself. His question to the scribes is not, "Do you think I have the authority on earth to forgive sins?" but, "I will prove to you that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins." It is left to the listener to make the connection between Christ and the Son of Man.

The Miracle Of Forgiveness

Luther, who always stands with his feet firmly planted upon the earth when he speaks of heavenly things, strikes directly to the practical application of this miracle story. Focusing in on the phrase "on earth," he begins his sermon on this text with the words, "This Gospel teaches us to note particularly the good tidings which God has granted to us, that we may here on earth say to each other 'Thy sins are forgiven thee.' "11

Luther finds God giving the right to each Christian to pronounce the forgiveness of sins to his neighbor. In the same light, Fridricksen believes this miracle story was used by the early church to validate its right to forgive sins -- a right given to Christians by Christ himself. He writes that here the early church is giving "assurance of the forgiveness of sins to each repenting sinner, referring this power back to Jesus himself."12

The power to forgive which Jesus exhibits here he later gives to his followers. In Matthew 18:18, Jesus says, "And whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven;" in John, our Lord states, "If you forgive men's sins, then they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven" (20:23).

Luther states that this means, "God puts the words of forgiveness into the mouth of men." And he adds, "Though you hear but the voice of men you nevertheless hear God and receive forgiveness of sins."13 This is a fantastic assumption and so it was first received.

Scholars in Luther's day objected to this and claimed that by this statement Luther was making gods out of men. Luther's response was that men do not possess the power in and of themselves to forgive sins, as Christ did, but we have the Word which possesses the power to forgive and we have been given the authority to pronounce that Word -- to speak that Word and thereby assure another person that God has forgiven him.

The position of Luther and the contemporary opinion of Fridricksen is that this miracle story is concerned primarily with the miracle of forgiveness. Fridricksen writes, "The issue here is of a man for whom forgiveness is the real miracle, whereas the healing is secondary."14 Wallace agrees, "Everything else that happened that day was secondary, and simply illustrated and complemented what this first great miracle of forgiveness had accomplished."15

Today we frequently take forgiveness for granted. Failing to take seriously the problem of guilt, we overlook the tremendous power we have been given by God to exercise the right of absolution and forgiveness. Though we seldom acknowledge it, guilt underlies most of our failures to accept ourselves and relate to others. What is needed is the insight of our miracle story, which reminds us that we cannot love and forgive until we first know that we are loved and forgiven by God. We need to share with one another the miracle of forgiveness, for it can still work miracles in our life and in the lives of others.

A nurse had lost her faith after she came to the big city. One night she was working in the hospital when the ambulance brought in a young woman who had been stabbed in a drunken brawl in a disreputable quarter of the city. Her case was helpless and the nurse was asked to simply sit by the unconscious girl until death came.

As the nurse looked down on the coarse lines of this girl's hardened features, the girl's eyes slowly opened and she spoke, "I want you to tell me something and tell me straight. Do you think God cares about people like me? Do you think he could forgive anyone as bad as me?"

The nurse hesitated for a moment. Her first reaction was to run away. But something held her there and she answered, "I'm telling you straight: God cares about you and he forgives you." The girl slipped back into unconsciousness. A few days later the nurse went to her pastor that she hadn't seen in more than ten years, and she told him this story and then she added, "You know, something happened to me that night. I felt that somehow it was I who was being forgiven."

People today may not know they need forgiveness, for they tend to speak of their basic needs as being accepted and wanted. They desperately cry out in the silence of their own inner being, "Does anyone care? Does anyone care whether I live or die?" Like the dying girl in the hospital and the nurse who sat beside her, their question is, "Do you think God cares about people like me?" Our responsibility is to translate that need to be "cared for" into its biblical equivalent, which is forgiveness. The world desperately needs to hear the word of divine absolution, "My son, my daughter, God is not angry with you."

Horton and Tittle16 support the idea that this miracle story suggests that forgiveness is not only delegated by God to the official clergy of the church, but to every individual Christian. But they then add a much-needed note. They both point out that it is not only with words but also by our actions that we pronounce absolution. When we receive wrongdoers into our fellowship and accept people as they are in love, we are declaring God's forgiveness.

It should be remembered that when Jesus was reproached for his inclination to forgive sinners, the evidence his accusers presented was, "This man receives sinners and eats with them." So in our treatment of unclean, undesirable people -- the people so frequently rejected and condemned by society -- we testify and witness to the forgiving love of God or we deny it.

As Luther stressed, the Word is still primary in forgiveness and there can be no power to our forgiveness apart from the Word, but deed and action are also needed to confirm the Word. First Jesus spoke the Word, "Son, your sins are forgiven." Then he performed the deed: "Take up your bed and walk." Both together form the miracle. For us today the basic issue is not the relationship between sin and suffering but between word and deed. The miracle of forgiveness demands both!

Steimle speaks to this when, in a sermon on this text, he begins by answering the question Jesus asked, "Of course it's easier to say 'your sins are forgiven,' than to say 'arise and walk.' After all, every Sunday in our worship services we declare sin forgiven. But in how many churches is the paralytic given strength to rise and walk Sunday after Sunday?"17

Steimle goes on to point out that Christ is first concerned with the "hopeless emptiness in the man's eyes, rather than to his obvious physical distress of not being able to walk."18

The conclusion Steimle comes to is that little is gained if a man's paralysis is healed and he has sound legs to walk on but has no reason to walk. What is needed is a purpose and a reason to walk. And somewhere worthwhile to walk to. This comes through forgiveness which in its simplest terms means acceptance. This acceptance means "to get up and go about whatever business you have with new zest, with confidence, and purpose and joy -- a new creation."19 Then we are no longer a part of the problem but a part of God's creative and redemptive answer to the needs of our time.

Forgiveness is the true miracle in the healing story of the paralytic and today it is still the most amazing miracle God performs in the lives of people. And, wonder of wonders, God invites us to share in it -- to proclaim to our friends and neighbors, "God is not angry with you." Let us all join hands and walk in faith together!

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1. H. Van der Loos, The Miracles of Jesus (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1968), p. 443.

2. Sherman Johnson, A Commentary on the Gospel According to St. Mark (New York: Harper and Brothers Publishers, 1960), p. 56.

3. Walter Lowrie, Jesus According to St. Mark (New York: Longmans, Green and Company, 1929), p. 97.

4. Ronald S. Wallace, The Gospel Miracles (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1960), p. 26.

5. William L. Lane, The Gospel According to Mark (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1974), p. 95.

6. A. E. Harvey, The New English Bible Companion to the New Testament (London: Cambridge University Press, 1971), p. 119.

7. Sherman Johnson, op. cit., p. 56.

8. Alexander Jones, The Gospel According to St. Mark (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963), p. 77.

9. Harvey, op. cit., p. 120.

10. Norval Geldenhuys, Commentary on the Gospel of Luke (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1951), p. 353.

11. Martin Luther, Sermons on the Gospels, Vol. II (Rock Island, Illinois: Augustana Book Concern, 1871), p. 503.

12. Anton Fridricksen, The Problem of Miracle in Primitive Christianity (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1972), p. 131.

13. Luther, op. cit., p. 513.

14. Fridricksen, op. cit., p. 133.

15. Wallace, op. cit., p. 30.

16. Walter Marshall Horton, Our Eternal Contemporary (New York: Harper, 1942), pp. 82-84. Ernest Fremont Tittle, The Gospel According to Luke (New York: Harper, 1951), p. 51.

17. Edmund A. Steimle, Are You Looking for God? (Philadelphia: Muhlenberg, 1957), p. 31.

18. Ibid., p. 31.

19. Ibid., p. 38.