WALKING FREE

Mark 2:1-12

St. Andrew's-Wesley United Church

Rev. Gary Paterson

February 15, 2009

I am discovering, as I grow older, that I am slowly becoming a creature of habit – and this includes the writing of sermons. I have a basic pattern, that towards the end of the week, becomes more and more predictable. All week long, I think about the Scripture readings for the week, pondering and praying, researching and studying, jotting down various ideas and possibilities; and by Friday morning I find myself at my desk at home finally sitting down to shape and write the sermon. Then, on most Friday afternoons – or sometimes on Saturday if the week has been long and demanding – I will leave my study, putting the sermon notes and outlines into a folder, and off I go for a thoughtful walk on the seawall, letting the ideas roll around one last time, as the spacious sky and ocean clear my mind and open up the possibilities of something new occurring, perhaps giving the Spirit a chance to work over what might get said on Sunday morning.

Then, as I return, I will often drop into the Sylvia Hotel; I will sit at a table overlooking the usually crowded bar and order one glass of wine. That may sound strange – sermons and pubs; but as I listen to the buzz of conversation and laughter and look at all these faces… these lives, I spread out my sermon notes and ask myself if what I have written on the page has any real connection to what is happening all around me. It becomes a sharp reality check-in, let me tell you.

So there I was yesterday – and yes, it was that kind of a week… mulling over, once again, today’s story of the paralytic who was lowered through the roof by his friends so that he might encounter Jesus and be healed. I thought this sermon began well. I had a memory of Sunday School… and we’re going back quite a ways here. Our teacher had decided that we were going to act out the story of the paralytic – a little bit like we just did during Time with the Children, only we didn’t use stuffed bears. The smallest kid was chosen to be the sick guy; the class became the crowd gathered around Jesus; while four of us boys were quick to volunteer to be stretcher carriers. Now this was fun!! Sure beat trying to memorize Bible verses!! We were unstoppable; despite the traffic jam we knew we could find a way. So up the fire escape we went to the top of the roof – figuratively speaking, don’t worry; the trick was to lower the stretcher and body over the edge and down to the carpet without dumping the guy on his head… no small feat. But we did it; and we all clapped at the conclusion when Jesus cried out, “Pick up your stretcher and get out of here.” And the sick guy jumped up, grabbed the stretcher and went running out of the room – and he didn’t even hit anyone with the stretcher. Days like that you actually enjoyed going to church.

I still remember the excitement of it all. We kids knew we were on a mission; we had to get to Jesus; our friend needed to get better. Using more adult language, I would say that we knew that something important was happening here; that the encounter with Jesus, the encounter with holiness – this was potentially life-changing. We knew that, even if we were just acting out a story. It’s that excitement that I hunger for… that as we gather for worship in church, Sunday after Sunday, we might have some of that same excitement… to know that something important was happening here, right now, even if we’re just listening to a story; that we have a chance to encounter Christ, the Spirit, and that if that were to happen, well, it would be life-changing! I want us to feel that excitement when we come to worship!

Then my notes led me to a second memory… this time from teen years; or rather, from when I am the youth group leader, responsible for a group of teens. Getting teenagers excited about Bible stories is never an easy task; they are not going to act out some stretcher carrying routine; how totally uncool. So, a new approach. Knowing how friendships are of central importance to teens, I invited them to imagine who they would ask to carry them on a stretcher if they needed help. And to provide some focus I asked a few questions: Who would you call if your boyfriend had just broken up with you? Who would you get in touch with if you found yourself at Emergency at the local hospital? Who would you ask to lend you five hundred bucks to deal with some trouble? Who would hold you if you needed to cry? It worked, let me tell you – especially when we finished the whole discussion by playing that old James Taylor hit, “You’ve Got a Friend.”

I wondered about stopping the sermon, right here, just for a minute or two… and pose similar questions to you. Who would you call if your were in trouble, wanted to be held as you cried, needed some help? Which got me thinking about how we all need community, a circle of friends who will carry us in times of trouble; who will celebrate with us when life goes well. Which made me wonder about this particular congregation… is this a community of people whom you would trust to be there for you? Who would be willing to engage with you in an encounter with Holiness, with God? Maybe we might need to “unroof” this church – so that it truly is a place where we carry each other into the presence of the Spirit, with all of our questions and hurts and troubles.

Well, I was feeling pretty good at this point, and only half way through the glass of wine; so I began looking at the next section of the sermon. Which got a little more technical… an exploration of the connections in today’s story between sin, sickness, forgiveness and healing. It felt like we needed some background, because otherwise those connections could seem a little troubling, where being paralyzed seems to be the sick guy’s “fault”. We need to remember, though, that we’re talking about medical understandings of two thousand years ago; in the first century there was no understanding of bacteria, viruses, genetics and chromosomes; instead, illness was usually seen as a punishment from the gods for wrong-doing. In an effort to make sense of life’s vicissitudes, to maintain belief in a moral universe, people claimed that bad things happened to bad people.

In some religious circles that way of thinking is still with us. But even if we no longer envision God as sending us troubles to punish us for wrong-doing, or to teach us a lesson, we still recognize the correlation between behaviour and illness. We are uncomfortable with the “sin” word, but we know that poor lifestyle choices – like smoking, drugs, lack of exercise, excessive drinking, promiscuity, obesity, lack of exercise, poor diet, stress… the list goes on… these personal choices can kill you. Bad things happen to people who make lousy choices. We also know that oppressive social circumstances contribute to poor health; just watch how poverty and illness are locked together in a deadly embrace.. And, while still avoiding any mention of sin, we also admit that pollution, smog, pesticides, growth hormones for livestock… all these things contribute to poor health. We may not think of illness as punishment, but it frequently is a consequence of our personal and social behaviors.

It can be tempting, even reassuring perhaps, to blame the victim. It helps us make sense of what happens in life… especially the bad things. We hope that if we just keep on the “straight and narrow” then life will be okay. But we know that’s only part of the story; two thousand years ago and today, we humans are forced to admit, usually with fear and trembling, that illness sometimes has nothing to do with what we’ve done or not done; it isn’t punishment; it isn’t even a consequence of our choices. Sometimes terrible things just happen; even saints get cancer.

By now, the wine glass was empty. I knew I had more work, but I also felt that I was ready for a final round in the study. So I packed up my papers, and got ready to leave. As I was walking out an acquaintance stopped me with a friendly smile and asked, “Hey… doing some last minute editing? So what’s the topic for tomorrow?” Well… so glad you asked… and I launched into a fine introduction to sin, sickness, forgiveness and healing, with just a bit of background on first century thinking – be careful about the questions you ask ministers, especially on a Saturday afternoon. As I moved into second gear, however, I watched his face slowly glaze over. Talk about making sure he wouldn’t be coming to church the next morning! I was able to keep going for a couple more sentences before grinding to a halt, recognizing that I’d just failed my reality test. I stopped; smiled wanly; and in a tongue-tied, hesitant way I finally choked out, “Well, really, it’s about people wanting to connect with God; I guess it’s that simple.” And it felt like the most important thing I said to my friend.

It meant there needed to be a second walk on the seawall, trying to figure out how to say it all differently; how to talk about our hunger for an encounter with holiness, with God, with Jesus, however you might name it. It’s why we’re here, isn’t it; really?... whether we’re regulars and show up most Sundays, or whether we’ve just slipped in for a visit, wondering whether something important actually does happen here on a Sunday morning. We’re all hoping to be touched, fed, moved… to connect with something “More”. We’re hoping to be part of a story that might unroof our lives, that will unleash hope and excitement and a renewed energy for life.

So, what if we understand illness as metaphor… a dis-ease of being? What if it’s a way of trying to talk about feeling that something is off in our lives? We have lots of different explanatory words for it… empty, an ache in our hearts; a fear that paralyzes us; maybe guilt for a whole raft of bad choices; maybe grief, maybe depression – whatever it is that keeps us stuck. I might say “sin”… you might describe it differently, but maybe we’re talking about the same thing. Though it probably doesn’t do much good for me to go on and on… I’ll probably just end up telling you more than you want to hear about my life, when what you really need to do is name your own sin. Oooh, there’s that word again. But I’ll bet each of us could do it… you don’t need some preacher triggering all your defensive reactions; maybe all that’s needed is a few quiet, honest moments with yourself. Where’s the pain? Where are you paralyzed? What do you need to be whole? That’s the real question, I think.

There’s a prayer from the Iona community that talks about this:

In you gracious God

the widowed find a care-giver,

the orphaned find a parent,

the fearful find a friend.

In you

the wounded find a healer,

the penitent find a pardoner,

the burdened find a counsellor.

In you,

the miserly find a beggar,

the despondent find a laughter-maker,

the legalists find a rule-breaker.

In you, Jesus Christ,

we meet our Maker and our match.

And if some need to say, “Help me;”

and if some need to say, “Save me;”

and if some need to say, “Hold me;”

and if some need to say, “Forgive me;”

…or heal me, guide me, strengthen me, love me….

Then let these be said now

in confidence

by us.

(from A Wee Worship Book, by the Wild Goose Worship Group)

So, using your own language to describe your own life, you suddenly arrive in the story, you see yourself on that stretcher, hurting, weary, unable to bounce up and go forward in your life. Maybe some friends have helped carry you to this point; maybe you limped forward on your own. But you find yourself, one way or another, coming close to an encounter with God. And it’s then that you might hear those almost strange words that Jesus speaks, “My son…” .. pause there for a moment… son, daughter, child of God, beloved, precious… stay there as long as you need to. Do you trust that you really are a child of God? Can you feel it in your bones? Then, listen carefully: “My son, your sins are forgiven; my daughter, you are healed.” Which may be two ways of saying the same thing. And maybe a third way of saying it, is that there is enough grace in the world --for someone like you; for someone like me; for the person sitting next to you in the pew -- enough grace to convince you, all the way down, that you are acceptable to God. Oh sure, lots of mistakes, bad choices; lots of sin, let’s not kid ourselves. Nevertheless, we are loved. As the theologian Tillich has suggested, all we really need to do is “accept that we are accepted.”

This is the word that Jesus offers, the gift. He speaks the words; he comes as a teacher, to show us the truth of these words of forgiveness and healing. He comes as an embodiment of this grace; you can see it in him; no, you can feel it… the voice, the look, the touch, the compassion, the confidence. Maybe Jesus is a conduit, through which the grace of God is conveyed, carried, a Holy Love that embraces, that holds us. So many different ways to try and describe how it happens… but the witness of this story is that it happens when the paralyzed man encounters Jesus, and in that meeting he is filled with God’s grace.

But it isn’t cheap grace. Because this Jesus story doesn’t end with those simple words of forgiveness and healing. There is another word that is offered…. something like, get up, get out of here, go walking into the world, into your life. Oh, it’s phrased a little more politely, “Stand up, take up your mat and walk.” But Mark, not always the most elegant of writers, wants to be sure his readers get the full impact of what’s being said, so he repeats it three times: “Stand up and take your mat and walk… Stand up, take your mat and go to your home… [the paralytic]stood up, and immediately took the mat and went out before all of them.” A response is required … the paralytic has to move his butt, he has to stand up and get going. The person on the stretcher moves from being a passive victim to becoming an active participant; what is required is reformation, not just feelings of remorse.

I came across a phrase from one of my favourite theological writers, Barbara Brown Taylor, that seems to speak to this need to respond; she writes “We may learn how to live with our tragedies or we may spend all of our time dying from them.” (from Speaking of Sin). That’s it isn’t it… terrible things will happen; you are going to find yourself on the stretcher one of these days, feeling paralyzed by what life has thrown at you. But the good news is that there is healing that can emerge even out of the worst of tragedies. Not cure, mind you; but healing. A new wholeness of being, as the broken pieces of your life are put together in different and unexpected ways.

You don’t believe me? Well, three years ago this story of the paralyzed man and his friends meeting Jesus was told in the midst of this congregation. It was hard not to think of Bob Franken, an active member of our congregation, who, around the age of sixty, in excellent health – hey, he’d just finished his annual bike trip from Jasper to Banff… was suddenly stricken ill with an undiagnosed neck infection, and ended up as near quadriplegic, moving around his life with the help of an electric wheelchair, which he steered with the two fingers that he could still move. Pretty good reason for giving up; for becoming bitter; for cursing God. But that isn’t what happened. No, Bob found healing as grace moved through his family, his friends, his faith; they carried him, and Bob encountered Holiness. He may not have been able to stand up, but he sure picked up his mat and went wheeling through the world… became chairperson of the Church Board; played with newborn grandchildren; re-edited his book, the standard text for Motivational Psychology… seventh edition I think it was. I wasn’t here on that Sunday when the story was told. But we had a wise student intern, Maya Landell. During Time with the Children, she invited Bob to come forward and show them how he could do wheelies with his chair; Bob challenged the kids to a race… and he won! Some days it’s fun to come to church!

It happens you know… and if some need to say, “Help me” and if some need to say “Save me” and if some need to say “Forgive me” and if some need to say “Hold me” then let these be said now, in confidence, by us.