In Search of Healing

It is perfectly dreadful outside. Yuck.  So why are you here today? Why come here to worship, Sunday after Sunday, 52 Sundays a year or perhaps significantly fewer, for five, 10, 30 years - perhaps a whole lifetime? Getting up early Sunday morning, convincing ourselves it’s worth the effort to get the children and ourselves dressed and out the door; sometimes not feeling too well,  perhaps worried about our health or financial problems, angry about what’s going on in the world,  or about something much closer to home; then navigating the nasty roads, finding a parking place, walking into the church, putting on a smile if it won’t come naturally; greeting and being greeted, singing hymns, praying prayers, listening to scripture and sermon, bringing an offering, taking the bread and cup…

 

We call it “the worship of God,” but why do we do this? I'm sure there are many reasons to be here today. But I suspect that deep down there is a hunger, a longing that in this place we might get to know Jesus of Nazareth better. [1]

 

That hunger is active in our world, no matter how dismal the church attendance might be. In a recent interview I read with Kenneth Woodward, editor of Newsweek magazine’s religion section since 1964, he confirmed that at least for the last 25 years, the top selling issues, annually, of Newsweek and Time are those that feature religion, and particularly Jesus, on the cover. Woodward disagreed personally with the recent tendency –  to which he has been an accomplice, if not a large contributor – of putting erudite skeptics like Bishop Spong and “Jesus Seminar” types at the fore of those articles, rather than relegating them to a sidebar. [2]

 

Our Gospel this morning seems to underline that thought: You are right to come personally to find him, as did crowds of people; do not let the scribes or skeptics stand in your way. Perhaps you’ll have to dig a hole through the roof to do it, but seek Jesus and his healing, forgiving compassion; and your life will be changed for the better.

 

I love this story of the paralytic and his four determined friends. Whenever I read it, I find myself identifying with a different person: Sometimes I am one of the friends, doing my best to bring someone else to the knowledge of God’s love, because I know it is real. At other moments in my journey I have been like the bystanders, crowded around the door, trying to get a glimpse as someone else experiences the personal touch of the Savior.  And, I must admit, there are days I’m more like one of the scribes, scratching my head and questioning, “Can he really be God?”

 

Today I want to focus on the paralyzed person, who is desperate for help – or perhaps, beyond desperate: resigned to immobility; his friends are the ones who are willing to risk all their necks for a miracle. But presuming that this person is also hoping for a cure, he watches his friends break into a private home through the roof –  perhaps it’s the house belonging to Peter’s family in Capernaum – and then allows himself to be hoisted up and lowered inside.

 

Now put yourself in his place, and imagine the scene. A commotion has resulted from the break-in and all eyes are on you as you finally reach the famous healer, Jesus. He is smiling – first at your friends and their ingenuity; and then at you. Softly, but with complete assurance, he says to you, “Son... daughter... your sins are forgiven.”

 

Then the commotion begins anew.  What did he just say?? This is too much! You close your eyes and groan.  Now you’re trapped in the middle of a theological controversy. Why on earth did your friends do this to you?! As you despair, suddenly Jesus’ attention is back on you. “I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go to your home.”

 

What did he just say?  You try to move – your body slowly responds. You can rise! Your friends peering in from the roof  let out a whoop! as you take a tentative step. You mumble your thanks to Jesus – what can you really say? – and stagger out the door, through the crowds, into the street, as the bystanders clap you on the back and shout praises to God on your behalf.

 

Why did you come here this morning, through wretched weather and a hundred other good reasons to stay home? If it was to risk an encounter with this Jesus, the one who proclaims forgiveness of sins and healing of many types of paralysis, then you have made a good choice. But please do not take the opportunity lightly.

 

Our famous neighbor in Erie PA , Sister Joan Chittister, tells this story in one of her excellent books about St. Benedict:

“A man came to a holy person seeking healing.  The holy person listened patiently as the man listed his complaints and then asked, ‘Do you really want to be cured?’  The man was shocked by the question and said, ‘Of course I want to be cured. Why else would I have come?’ To which the holy person replied, ‘Most come, not to be cured, that is too painful.  They come for relief.’” [3]

 

The cure, the real cure, our Gospel tells us this morning, lies not in reconnecting spinal cord strands or atrophied muscle tissue.  What ails us, what paralyzes us, is the weight of our sins: those things we have done willingly to separate ourselves from God and his love. Perhaps we feel unreachable in those sins; or perhaps we have kidded ourselves that we don’t really need forgiving, by God or by the people we have hurt. Allowing Jesus to reach us there, in those most private and awful places, is the key to spiritual movement and new life unburdened.

              

You can come to this altar weekly, or monthly, or annually, and feel relief.  It surely helps: no matter what, Christ is there for you in the bread and wine, and the fellowship of all us other, hungry sinners. The relief of our time here can bring us through many parched moments. But sometimes, what ails us lies deeper, and we remain restless or constantly anxious. As the wise old monk warned his petitioner, being cured takes something that will probably be painful: the willingness and hard work of self-examination and opening our hearts to God; and let Jesus pour his forgiveness right in there where it hurts.

 

Good news: Lent is around the corner; an excellent time to concentrate on this project. A more immediate start is the sacrament of healing, being offered today and each last Sunday of the month. Come and pray for your own healing, for strength to begin the journey; or, if you’re feeling more like one of the four friends, come and pray for someone else.

 

For, as St. Paul said so powerfully in the epistle today: In Jesus Christ, every one of God’s promises is a “Yes.”

Did you come here this morning hoping to find Jesus? God’s answer to your search is Yes.

Did you come here to be welcomed and fed?  God’s answer to your hunger is Yes.

Do you want to be healed, and know your sins are forgiven you? God’s answer to your paralysis is Yes. 

Come for the cure. Jesus is ready when you are, and even when you aren’t.