Maybe you’ve heard that story in the Bible where a few guys somehow climb onto the roof of a house, break a hole in the roof, and lower their paralyzed friend on a mat all the way down to Jesus’ feet. By all accounts, “there was no more room, not even at the door.” The big punchline I’ve always remembered is that Jesus physically heals the guy everyone there is amazed by another Jesus miracle.
I’ve encountered this story probably two dozen times, but I honestly hadn’t heard it or thought about it in who knows how long. So when I found it in the Gospel of Mark the other day, there was always a risk I’d just blow through it. Instead, I read it more slowly than times prior. Even cracking the Bible that morning, I felt this sense that I was coming to the story as a slightly different person since the last time I’d read from this part. In the context of my faith, I must admit I’ve been in a long season of feeling apprehensive (or even a little defensive) when presented with anything from the Bible. I’ve been almost automatically looking for the religious trick or the political agenda or the impossibility or the irrelevance that turned me off in the past.
Without any new effort or personally-summoned perspective on my part, I started reading about Jesus and this paralyzed guy thinking, “Maybe this story has something new for me.” Some wall had come down in me and I was surprisingly just present with the words:
“And they came, bringing to him [Jesus] a paralytic carried by four men. And when they could not get near him because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him, and when they had made an opening, they let down the bed on which the paralytic lay. And when Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Son, your sins are now forgiven.’” (Mark 2)
Wait… my walls quickly creep up again. I understand lots of details are absent, but I have questions. The most obvious question: That’s what you’re going to do first, Jesus? Call him a sinner and tell him God forgives him? You’re healing folks left and right, but this guy gets some religious verbiage instead of new legs? Why? Is that what you think he wants? This paralyzed guy has surely been through some stuff! Some stuff you’ve never experienced, Jesus — I mean, you’re not living life paralyzed, are you? It feels like you're just going straight to judgement: “You’re messed up, but thanks to these guys, you’re forgiven for all the messed up stuff you’ve felt and done.” Why didn’t you start with something like “What’s your name? What has been tough about being paralyzed? Why did you really come here today?” Jesus, this all just seems a bit tone-deaf, impersonal, and insolent.
As I’m reading, I’m just struggling with it. I’m thinking, “Jesus, fix the guy. Change his circumstances. At least say some beautiful stuff about how the sick, poor, and hurting are first into the kingdom. Tell him the hurting are preferentially treated with the deepest love and respect by God.”
I realize I'm reading the story this way because it’s how I’ve come to Jesus lately: “Fix me. Or say something beautiful that gives me some much-needed perspective. (But really, just fix me.)"
Just take away that damn habit.
Give me more money or time.
Make these people in my life easier to deal with.
Make me the person I need to be.
Make the mundane more intriguing.
Or... at least make me feel good about how I’m coming up short.
I re-read the story a few times. Was it really necessary to go through the roof? Like, are we just supposed to believe there was truly no way to get in the front door? I’ve been in jam-packed crowds — picture a rush hour subway. You can always eventually get people to move just enough to squeeze by. Maybe they were being actively blocked. Like, the crowd saw the paralyzed guy and thought, “No way. Not him.” Maybe they thought he was gross or too tough to look at. Maybe he was actually the town curmudgeon and had turned everyone off. Maybe he’d cursed at them in frustration before. Maybe they thought he just didn’t deserve it. If this is true, my guess is the guy knew he was shunned.
Is shame more toxic than physical sickness? Is shame harder to live with than paralysis?
Maybe that’s why Jesus says, “Your sins are forgiven.” We have no idea how the paralyzed guy reacts. I’d like to imagine he thinks, “I’m forgiven? Like, I’m good? No one thinks that. I don't even think I’m good.”
Jesus addresses this guy — in public — as no longer needing to carry his shame because he is invaluable even without being “fixed.” The importance of declaring he’s loved as he is trumped the physical healing he may have thought he needed. I imagine this started a deeper healing in the guy. Even if I want new circumstances and just want to be fixed, I think Jesus first hopes I’ll let him talk to me about the shame I may be carrying.
Do you sometimes just want to be fixed? Is there any shame hiding beneath your imperfection? What does Jesus seem to say about it?
-Conor
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