Monday, 13 February 2006
Epiphany 7 Year B
Isaiah 43: 18-25 NRSV text
Psalm 41 NRSV text
2 Corinthians 1: 18-22 NRSV text
Mark 2: 1-12 NRSV text
“They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes” (1:22)
Jesus was definitely out to cause trouble, and can’t have been disappointed! The healing of the paralytic belongs to the section that begins with the exorcism of the unclean spirit from the man in the synagogue at Capernaum, the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law, and the cleansing of the leper. Mark hurries us from incident to incident, showing how, from the very first, Jesus’ ministry (significantly in the synagogues) provokes conflict with the scribes. Mark flags the forthcoming clashes over Sabbath observance in the first healing. In last week’s gospel text, Jesus usurps the priestly authority to declare lepers clean. This week, he goes even further: he attacks their sole claim to forgive sin, and is declared a blasphemer (2:7). This is the charge on which he will eventually be executed. From the outset, in other words, the shadow of the cross hangs over all that Jesus is doing.
This isn’t an attempt to read something clever or fanciful into the texts. Jesus’ messianic ministry is a quite deliberate taking on of the powers of the day that imprison and exclude – in particular, the purity system. He is wresting control of the levers of power from the power-holders, and they don’t like it one bit! Mark goes to extraordinary lengths to tell us that to be the Messiah meant going to the cross. But whereas Paul locates that necessity in the eternal plan of God for salvation, Mark tracks its necessity through Jesus’ ministry. Given what Jesus was doing, and the powers ranged against him, one side or the other had to lose. It was Jesus. The awfulness of his death was that the powers of death and destruction appeared to win – indeed, they did win! – and the wonder of the resurrection is that God brings something new and ultimately undefeatable from the ashes of the total failure of Jesus’ mission of liberating grace.
This is a great story for preaching, isn’t it? Think of the various characters and what’s going on for them:
q The paralytic: he’s totally helpless. He says nothing throughout the account, yet imagine the conversations that must have gone on. They arrive at the one-roomed house, and there is simply no way that they’re going to get through the crowd that’s spilled out into the street. Imagine his despair – but also his resignation. After all, this is what always happens to him. No luck: “Ok guys – great thought, thanks and all that, but let’s just go home!”
q Then there are the friends – and what amazing, determined friends! Which was the eternal optimist, I wonder? “No problem – we’ll get you in!” “Oh yes? Just how do you imagine we’ll manage that?” “Ummm … I know! Come on – up on the roof!” “The roof? How is that going to help?” “Easy! All we have to do is dig through it …”
q And what about the crowds? Imagine the scene: they’re all desperate to get inside, and, even though they’re not English, with an obsession for orderly queues, there’s still protocol here. Here are 4 men, carrying a stretcher, trying to get through … But wait a moment! They’re not trying for the door – they’re heading for the roof! That’s ok, then …
q Try being the house owner just for a moment. Just a poor man and his family, in a single-roomed dwelling. What on earth possessed him to invite Jesus in and let him preach?! BAAAD mistake! Just look at the crowds – wall-to-wall people filling every available space, wife looking daggers at him … and now the roof’s starting to fall in …
q Then there are the scribes, huddled against a wall in disapproval, bitter at all the fuss and stir Jesus is causing, trying desperately to avoid touching anyone who might be unclean and contaminate them …
q And Jesus? Here he is, doing his best to preach in some pretty adverse circumstances, and he’s suddenly showered with bits of falling roof. Suddenly, there’s a dirty great hole, letting the light in. But just for a moment, because then the light’s blocked, by … hey, someone’s lowering a stretcher down! The crowd push and shove to make space, and this stretcher lands at Jesus’ feet, with the paralytic on it. Jesus looks at him, then up at the hole where the roof used to be, to see 4 excited, anxious faces peering down expectantly …
Then there’s all the drama of the healing itself. Jesus doesn’t engage the man in conversation – he looks at the friends, sees their determination and faith, and tells the man straight out, “Your sins are forgiven!” Now that is shocking! Whether it was the crowds, who were amazed and excited by what Jesus said, or the scribes, who were enraged, the point is that everyone would have been thinking the same thing: (a) “I wonder what he did to be lying on the stretcher? It must have been something serious for God to punish him like this! Or if it wasn’t him, it must have been his parents. Who are they? Does anyone know any juicy gossip about them?” (b) “Did I hear right? Did Jesus just say, ‘Your sins are forgiven’? Who can forgive sins except God alone? And who can pronounce someone released from sin except the scribes and priests – and then only after the proper sacrifices have been bought and offered?”
Jesus, of course, knows exactly what he’s doing. He turns, not to the crowds, but to the scribes, and asks, “If this man’s illness has to do with sin, as everyone supposes, which is easier to say? ‘Your sins are forgiven’, or to demonstrate that they’re forgiven and tell him to walk? The latter? Alright – I’ll prove to you that I have authority to forgive sin!” And turning to the man, he orders him to stand up, roll up his mat, and walk! And he does! No wonder they all glorified God, saying “We’ve never seen anything like this!”
It’s a wonderful drama. But there are also all sorts of other things happening in this story.
- Mark is telling us that Jesus can forgive sins because he is the Son of God. It’s part of Mark’s Christology. This is why it is appropriate for Mark’s Christian community to worship Jesus – because he is God.
- Two unique “characters” make their appearance in this pericope. The first is “the crowd” (v4). Mark uses a characteristic and unusual phrase – ochlos, rather than the more usual and common laos. The crowd is a collective actor. They follow Jesus, hear him, witness what he says and does. He teaches them. He is open to them and welcomes them. He doesn’t demand that they become disciples, but tells them that the kingdom is theirs. Ultimately, the authorities are able to manipulate them and use them to kill Jesus. One commentator is almost certainly correct in identifying two important characteristics of “the crowd”. The first is that they are poor and unimportant. The word usually refers to the camp followers who perform the menial tasks required for soldiers’ daily living. Secondly, he identifies them with the am ha’aretz – “people of the land”. This was a term originally referring to those Jews who remained in Judea during the exile. They missed out on the Second Exodus – the return. They were second-class citizens. By Jesus’ time, the term was one of abuse. Pharisees were expressly forbidden to associate with the am ha’aretz – yet these are the people among whom Jesus lives and ministers.
- The second is the Danielic Son of Man (v10). Jesus uses this as a term of self-designation, which is why the term (which meant, simply “a human being” – “a bloke”) becomes a Christological title. Again, while Mark does not have a developed theology of the pre-existence of Jesus in terms of the Logos, for example, he is clear that Jesus is no mere prophet, but a heavenly being worthy of worship – the divine Son of God.
- As with the leper, Jesus attacks the scribal monopoly on the ritual forgiveness of sins, which was linked to the purity code and, because of the financial costs involved in sacrifice, was an added burden on the poorest.
- Jesus will be tried as a blasphemer, because he presumes to do something only God can do – forgive sins. Yet the healing vindicates Jesus’ authority to forgive sins – and his implicit claim to divinity. His eventual death will therefore be an illegal murder.
Isaiah 43: 18-25
This is a beautiful passage! It is an oracle of salvation. Judah is in exile, hopeless, lost, apparently abandoned by Yahweh. And now Yahweh announces the beginning of something new! And the “something new” is saving. “I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert” (v19b) is a reference to the Exodus. This is promise of a new Exodus from captivity, and a return to the land. They are re-affirmed as Yahweh’s chosen people (v20-1; cf vv3-7).
But look at the contrast in v22. While wild animals, jackals and ostriches honour Yahweh as the provider and sustainer of life (v20), Jacob does not call on Yahweh. Israel has grown weary of Yahweh. Suddenly, we are into a courtroom dispute, and the Israelites are in the dock. They have not sacrificed and worshipped as they should – despite the fact that what Yahweh requires is hardly burdensome! Instead, they have burdened Yahweh with their sins and wearied Yahweh with their iniquities (v24b). They are justly accused.
Yet instead of judgement, Yahweh astonishingly announces … forgiveness! Yahweh will forgive them – not for their sakes, but for Yahweh’s own sake (v25). Why this astounding move by Yahweh? It is about Yahweh’s grace, and overwhelming desire to be their God and have them as God’s people. Even their sin will not be allowed to stand in their way. If they have wearied of Yahweh, and couldn’t care what Yahweh thinks of them, Yahweh has not wearied of them! Therefore Yahweh will forgive because that is the divine desire, even if the people do not ask for it or want it.
This is not as out of kilter with the requirement for sacrifice as it might seem – as though it is a conflict between Yahweh’s justice and mercy. We badly mistake the sacrificial system if we see the demands for sacrifice as “law”. It is Law – Torah – but covenant law. Israel has not so much offended justice as they have broken covenant. And covenant is always about grace. However abhorrent and bloody we may find the sacrificial system, the Israelites were always clear that Yahweh provides the sacrifice, as happened on Mount Moriah when Abraham went to sacrifice Isaac. There is an important principle here which reaches its acme in Jesus on the cross: God always ends up bearing the consequences of human sin and covenantal unfaithfulness. Yahweh always loses something precious in order to make things right. And, in the gospel, played out in the shadow of the cross, Yahweh will choose to bear the consequences of human sin in the loss of that which is most precious – God’s Son.
Psalm 41
It is no surprise that the lectionary compilers set this psalm for this week’s readings. It is a psalm celebrating confidence in Yahweh’s help, and a plea for healing. The psalmist is sick, and those around him assume that he has been stricken by Yahweh as punishment for sin – just as the crowd assume in the case of the paralytic. They use the illness as an occasion to start a public whispering campaign (yes, whispers can be very public!) against the integrity of the psalmist (vv6-7), while being hypocritically supportive to his face (v6).
But Yahweh is the great healer (v3), and so the psalmist calls on Yahweh to heal him and to so vindicate him publicly. The ill will of the people means that the psalmist sees them as enemies, who will view his death as their triumph (v11).
The psalm, like the gospel, calls us to examine our attitudes and prejudices towards those who are ill. We are unused today to link illness with sin and punishment, but our prejudice and tendency to exclude people is made frighteningly evident in cases such as mental illness, AIDS and other socially unacceptable diseases. To pray for healing for someone is always to ask questions about their exclusion, our part in that, and to pray for their restoration not only to health but to full participation in our communities.
2 Corinthians 1: 18-22
Paul is accused by the Corinthians of being a “yes and no” person – of giving and taking away at the same time. He strenuously denies this, and aligns himself with God, whose promises, he tells the Corinthians, are unequivocally “Yes!” God’s “Yes!” to us is seen in Jesus. It is unequivocal because it is unconditional. God doesn’t make grace dependent upon our goodness or faithfulness. Indeed, grace is seen in that “while we were still sinners, Christ died for us”. In other words, we do not have to make ourselves any less unattractive to God in order for God to look positively at us. God, “to whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hidden”, looks at us in the searing light of absolute knowledge and declares in Jesus Christ, “I love you! I long for you! Come to me!”
That sort of unconditional grace is something the Church is incredibly bad at preaching, affirming and living by. How often does Christian preaching – especially in the Reformed tradition – begin with how bad we are, and how unacceptable to God? And how often do we proclaim that we are saved by grace, and then make everyone live by the Law? It is astonishing and sad how many people are terrified of God, and feel they “have to get right” with God. The God whom the Church preaches and who is lodged so firmly in the popular mind is not that God! This is the God whose promises to us are “Yes and Amen!” Yet we preach a “Yes and No” God – yes, God loves us, but no, that doesn’t mean God accepts us. First we have to do this … and this … and this …
I remember leading a clergy bible study on the Prodigal. The Prodigal doesn’t repent. He doesn’t! Look at it again. He realises he has forfeited forever the right to be the son of the father. He’s prepared to admit that he has exiled himself from the family home forever – but decides to bargain for a place in his former home as a servant. I asked why we don’t preach the sort of radical grace exhibited by the father from the rooftops. The group was appalled! “What would happen if we didn’t confront sin? What would happen if we were to suggest that people could simply come to God, and they’d be accepted just like that?”
What would happen? Well, for one thing, they’d hear about the God whom Jesus calls Father, rather than the God peddled by a Church that likes to clutch hold of the keys to the kingdom in the way the scribes wanted to! I sometimes despair of the Church and our ability to get God so terribly wrong. But I’m encouraged by the paralytic’s friends. They won’t be kept out of God’s presence. They “unroof the roof” (literally translated). And when the walls of the Church shut people out from God, thank God there are some people who will unroof the roof, if that’s what it takes to get to Jesus!
Amen.
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