Sermon by Reverend Dr. John W. Mann | June 2, 2024

Mark 2:1-12

There is a grocery store near where I live, and on any given day there is someone stationed near the parking lot who asks customers for money. It’s not the same person every day, because that spot is a prime location; it is occupied on a first come, first served basis.

One day a man is there, wrapped in a blanket with some meager possessions in a trash bag. He has a piece of cardboard with his story written on it – “Homeless veteran, please help.”

One day a woman is there with suitcases in tow. I didn’t get close enough to read the story on her piece of cardboard. Some days there is a woman in a wheelchair. She has no sign, but she shouts to people in the parking lot, “Can you help me?”

I feel a sense of inward conflict. In businesses all over town there are help wanted signs. Some places have set up tables with job applications on them. The message is clear: there is work to be had. It would be an easy thing to say to a person asking for money near the parking lot, “Go in there and get a job! Then you’ll have some money!”

It’s hard to know what has happened in someone’s life to bring them to a place where they are easily condemned. People fall into a downward spiral from which it is difficult to escape. It’s an easy move to give people what they want. Giving them what they need is another matter.

I can’t save the world, but I try to make a difference by supporting the causes and institutions that are doing good in the world – good at least from my perspective on the world; and by being generous with the people I love and care about. The important thing for me is to try and see people as human beings. Trying to keep that view in mind can be a challenge, but it serves like a navigational tool through often treacherous societal waters.

In chapter two of Mark’s story of Jesus, there is an episode in which he addresses the issue of seeing people for who they are, giving them what they really need.  One day Jesus was at home and people were coming and going. Peopled stayed to talk and visit. As the day wore on more people stayed than left and the house became crowded. People began spilling out into the street. Crowds have a sort of magnetic attraction. People see a crowd and they are drawn into it – something must be there to see.

Crowded into the house were a group scribes. Being a scribe was an accomplishment. You had to be clever to be a scribe. They served a variety of functions. They were teachers, lawyers, judges, and scholars. To the learned men, Jesus was a religious sight-reader. He spoke with certain flair, but it was obvious he had not studied the classics. Where did he get some of his ideas? He spoke with authority, as people said, “Not like the scribes.” That’s not the way to win friends and influence people. So as he taught, these scribes might at times nod in agreement, they might give each other the sideways glance, or they might give him the “who do you think you are?” glare.

In the story of Jesus there are people who try to get his attention. A beggar cries out from the side of the road; a woman reaches out and barely touches the edge of his cloak; a leper falls at his feet.

In this story there are people trying to get near to Jesus, but they can’t reach him – “because of the crowd.” The crowd had become a barrier. It wasn’t fluid – it was stuck like cement. The crowd was keeping people out. It was anchored by the religious figures sitting front and center.

There was a man who needed help. He himself could not get to Jesus but he had some friends who took him there. But the crowd kept them out.

Did they say to their friend, “Sorry, but today is not your lucky day?  Maybe we can catch Jesus at a better time.”

No, they said, “Not to worry. We’ll get you to where you need to go.” They went up to the rooftop and started making a hole.

Imagine Jesus involved in a conversation of biblical proportions, perhaps making a profound statement, “Blessed are the…!?” When the ceiling suddenly comes falling down. Jesus looked up and saw these faces looking back through the hole in his roof. They rigged up some kind of contraption made of a straw mat with ropes tied to it. In the straw mat is one of their friends and they lowered him down through the hole in the roof.

This was their close companion, maybe a brother, cousin or friend. The story doesn’t tell of how he came to be paralyzed.  A while back their pal had taken ill. He was sick for a little while, but he never really recovered. After the fever went away, he couldn’t walk. Every afternoon his mates would come by and spend some time with him. But there was only so much they could do. They thought that they would be friends forever.

They didn’t think that the day would come when they might see their one-time friend, unable to walk, sitting on his mat near the marketplace, maybe with some baskets he had woven or some pots he had crafted, trying to sell stuff to eke out a survival. Or maybe just sitting there by the gate with an alms bowl. They would not have thought it possible that they might ever turn away as if strangers.

What they knew was that Jesus could heal people. But no one was going to move aside to make room for them. Especially not the scribes, who always had the best seats in the house. So they found their own way in.

Now their pal was lying on the floor in front of Jesus and everyone else was looking on as if to say, “Now what?” Jesus looked at the guy and said, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” Everyone reacted about the same way. “What did he just say?” But in that common reaction there were some differences.

Some people were just plain confused. “What does that mean?” They wondered. But the scribes down front and center, they knew exactly what Jesus was trying to do. If he wanted to provoke a fight he was doing a good job. They reacted to what he said as if someone had just smacked them.

“Wait just a darn minute. It’s one thing to teach like you know what you’re talking about. But only God can forgive sins. Who does this guy think he is to forgive somebody his or her sins? That’s just plain blasphemy.” They liked to use big religious words like blasphemy. What they were really saying was that Jesus was saying things about God that weren’t true. He was telling lies. And part of it was simply that the more religious folks get, the more they feel like God needs them to come to God’s defense.

The scribes were easy to read. Their faces bore the universal look of religious superiority. It comes from looking down on other people; from the sense that one owns God; from the sense of seeing others as outside God’s special place; it’s the look that says, “You should be ashamed of yourself.” Religious gatekeepers get good at perfecting that look.

Jesus asked the scribes a question. “Which is easier, to say ‘your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘stand up, take your mat and walk?’” It was what we call a loaded question. There was no clear answer, and any answer would be both wrong and right. Since it was a loaded question, he was really asking them about something else. The real question was, “Which is easier, to talk the talk, or to walk the walk?”

You can say just about anything you like, and that’s the problem with a lot of religion. Religion loses its heart and soul when it becomes more about words. When religion is just about saying the right thing or sounding good; or when it’s about thinking you’ve accomplished something because you agree on the words. The problem is that people who are most likely to talk the loudest talk are least likely to walk the authentic walk because they have come to rely too much on ideas and too little on actions. They have come to rely too much on the sound of their own voice and the force of their own opinions.

Jesus said, “To show you that I can walk the walk, that is, forgive sins which as you correctly point out is something only God can do, I say to this fellow who came through my ceiling, ‘Stand up, son, take your mat and go home.” He might have added, “And you boys up there better come back tomorrow and fix that hole!” The lad got up and grabbed his mat and walked out.

But maybe before Jesus healed him, when he was laying there still paralyzed, he might have been profoundly grateful to Jesus. By saying, “Son, your sins are forgiven,” Jesus was saying, “Son, which is what you are, God’s child, in forgiving your sins I see you not merely as a young man with a broken body, but as a whole person. Even though you can’t walk, you still have a heart and soul. God sees in your heart and God sees you as a whole person.”

It’s so easy to judge people by what’s on the outside. God sees within.

Most people would look at him as God’s cast off. Jesus looked at him and spoke to him as a human being. The people went from saying, “We’ve never heard teachings like this,” to “Amazing! We’ve never seen anything like this.”  His actions revealed the truth of his words. It was his way of showing, “God is real. God is not a concept or an idea. God is here and now. He loves you and he cares about you body and soul.”

Jesus didn’t tell people what they wanted to hear. He told them what they needed to hear. The ones who brought their friend to Jesus realized that. The man he healed realized that. When Jesus healed him, he told him in effect, “Now that God has done this thing for you, it’s time for you to walk the walk God empowers you to walk.”

As he could read the looks on the faces of the scribes, they could no doubt read the look on his face then, which most likely said, “And isn’t it about time for you guys to walk the walk God empowers you to walk?”

His words echo down through ages to us, “Walk the walk.” It’s often a hard path, but he empowers us for each step on the journey. Amen.