Mark 2:1-12

Georgetown Presbyterian Church

Rev. Stephen H. Wilkins

February 19, 2006

Don’t you think it’s a little strange? When the four friends of the paralytic man lower him down through the roof into the room where Jesus is, don’t you think it a bit strange that the first words out of Jesus’ mouth are, "Son, your sins are forgiven"?

I don’t know about you, but if I were to make an appointment with someone who had a reputation as a great physician, I would expect that person to conduct some sort of examination of me. I would expect questions, like, "What seems to be the problem?", or "How long have these symptoms been present?", or "When did this problem first occur?". I wouldn’t expect the physician to say, "Your sins are forgiven."

And so it seems a bit strange, doesn’t it, that the first words that Jesus utters to the paralyzed man are, "Son, your sins are forgiven." Yet that’s what Jesus says, and by all appearances he says it with great intent.

You see, Jesus was addressing the ancient notion that there is a direct relationship between sin and suffering. Jesus was addressing the unspoken but understood belief that suffering was considered to be punishment from God. And it is true that suffering is a result of the sinfulness that is so pervasive in our world. This is not to say, however, that every form of suffering can be attributed to a specific act of sin. To acknowledge that there is a relationship between sin and suffering is not the same as saying that all suffering is deserved punishment for specific sins.

Unfortunately, though, all too often that is the conclusion people come to when they try to explain suffering, and sickness, and tragedy. Job’s friends, in the Old Testament, were convinced that it was some sin that Job had committed that had caused all the horrible things that had destroyed Job’s family and Job’s welfare. They assume that he’s done something to displease God, and so he somehow deserves all his misery. They tell him he’d better repent and get straight with God. Confess your sin, they urge, and God will relieve your misery. Later on in Jesus’ ministry, in the Gospel of John, Jesus and his disciples come upon a man who was born blind, and the disciples ask the question, "Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?"

It’s an age-old question, and throughout the history of the church, Christians have been quick to assign blame and judgment in the face of suffering. "You must have done something to deserve this" -- that’s the message you’ll hear so often from the church. Back when the bubonic plague was sweeping through Europe, the Church’s primary response was that the disease was a punishment from God for the multiplicity of evils that were present in the world. One English protestant document described the plague as a "broom in the hands of the Almighty, by which he sweepeth the most nasty and uncomely corners of the universe."

And lest we are tempted to think that we’ve moved beyond such simplistic and judgmental thinking in modern times, we need only hear the voices that declare that AIDS is a similar form of judgment.

Honestly, I hear this all the time, and it surprises me. It surprises me when a Jerry Falwell declares that 9/11 was God punishing America for our godlessness. It surprises me when another televangelist declares that Ariel Sharon’s stroke is God’s punishment for the reallocation of Israeli and Palestinian lands. It surprises me that people view God that way. Not long ago I was visiting with a woman whose son is battling a life-threatening condition. A pastor had told this woman that the son’s condition is divine punishment because the son doesn’t believe in God. I would like to ask that pastor, "What about the countless Christians who have the same condition--why is God punishing them?" It surprises me when the first response of the Church is that suffering is in some way punishment from God.

Let me be clear here. There is a relationship between sin and suffering. The fact is, there is suffering in this world because of our sinfulness. The brokenness of this world is the result of our sinful condition—that’s made crystal clear in the third chapter of Genesis. Sometimes you can directly trace a cause-effect relationship between specific sinful actions, and their painful consequences.

But it’s not always that easy. Why did the little three-year-old girl have to die when the young man tried to commit suicide by plowing into the SUV in which the girl was riding—what did she do to deserve her death? Why are the orphanages in Africa full of children born with AIDS--is God punishing the children? Why does cancer strike the young mother? There are too many cases where a simple cause-and-effect assignment just doesn’t work.

Yet all too often, the Church is content simply to pronounce judgment, with no further response. And that’s a tragedy.

And that’s why I’m grateful for the four friends of the paralytic in today’s Gospel lesson, because they remind me that there is a better, more compassionate way of responding to suffering. You see, at some point you have to move beyond the question of "what caused this?" and move on to the question that asks, "How can we respond?" And that’s exactly what the friends of the paralytic have evidently done: they have stopped asking the question of whether or not the paralytic deserved his paralysis. They are now more interested in compassion and mercy and healing for their friend, and so they move to act on his behalf.

I mentioned earlier that during the bubonic plague, the loudest voice from the Church was that the plague was punishment from God. Yet even in the face of such a declaration, there were nonetheless pockets within the church that thought it important to provide pastoral care to the dying. One Jesuit priest noted in his journal, "...we are all extremely animated not only to receive a visit from the Lord whenever it might happen but also with a desire, should obedience permit it, to serve the sick. Some, especially among the novices, have begged me many times to permit them to go and exercise charity toward those sick with [the plague]..."

There comes a time when you have to put judgment aside, and simply respond with compassion to the condition at hand. There comes a time when we have to stop asking, "Why?" and instead ask, "What can we do about it?" I believe that the friends of the paralyzed man had reached that point. They were more interested in finding healing for their friend than they were in dwelling on the cause of his paralysis. They weren’t content with simply concluding that the young man had done something to deserve the paralysis; instead, they acted on his behalf and brought him to the One who they hoped could do something about the man’s condition.

And so it is that the faith of the four men who brought their paralyzed friend to Jesus becomes for us an example of how we ought to respond to suffering when we encounter it in others. As followers of Jesus Christ we need to move beyond the propensity to condemn and cast judgment, and instead become instruments of mercy and compassion. Instead of excluding the diseased ones from the community of faith, we ought to be about the very business of helping them encounter the One who can address their condition--Jesus Christ.

St. Francis of Assisi grew up in a time during which lepers were treated as, well, lepers. Lepers were told that God was punishing them, that they were not fit for mainstream society. And so Francis was brought up with a severe revulsion toward lepers. If he encountered a leper, he would hold his nose and cross over to the other side of the street. Then one day early after his conversion Francis came across a leper on the side of the road. Instead of turning away, Francis "slipped off his horse and ran to kiss the man. When the leper put out his hand as if to receive some alms, St. Francis gave him money and a kiss." You see, when St. Francis started to view the world through the lens of faith, he saw something entirely different. He no longer saw people to condemn and cast aside; he saw people who desperately needed the love and compassion of Jesus Christ.

Instead of pronouncing judgment and excluding the suffering ones from the community of faith, we ought to be about the very business of helping them encounter the One who can address their condition--Jesus Christ. We ought to be about the business of bringing them to Jesus, because Jesus has what they need. In the Gospel of John we are told that God did not send Jesus into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. In today’s story, Jesus addresses both the spiritual and physical conditions of the paralyzed man. You see, Jesus is not willing to cast people aside, no matter what their condition; in fact, Jesus came to call the sin-sick souls unto him, that he might offer what they need the most.

As he announces forgiveness to the paralyzed man, Jesus tells the man that no matter how the world might view his condition, God loves him and welcomes him into God’s presence. As Jesus offers forgiveness, he is in essence saying to the man, "In a world that’s ready to condemn you, I tell you that God loves you. In a world that is ready to cast you aside, I tell you that God embraces and receives you as one of his precious children."

There’s an old African-American spiritual in our hymnal, called "There Is a Balm in Gilead." The words go like this:

There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole.

There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul.

Sometimes I feel discouraged, and think my work’s in vain,

But then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again.

Don’t ever feel discouraged, for Jesus is your friend,

And if you lack for knowledge He’ll not refuse to lend.

If you cannot preach like Peter, if you cannot pray like Paul,

You can tell the love of Jesus and say, "He died for all."

There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole.

There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul.

Sometimes I wonder. I wonder, why do we refuse to offer people the balm of Gilead that will heal the sin-sick soul? When people are suffering, I wonder why it is that it’s so hard for some to move beyond the issues of cause, and consequence, and judgment? I wonder what it would be like if everyone were like the four friends of the man in our story this morning? I wonder what it would be like if, when we encounter suffering in others, we decided to act on their behalf, and offer them into the care of Jesus?

Do you ever wonder what this world would be like if more of us were like the four friends?