Kyle Matthews, our friend who is a singer and songwriter in Nashville, sings a song about this story. He takes a look at this story from each character’s perspective. The paralytic wants to walk, the friends want to help, the crowd is puzzled and amazed, and Jesus shows compassion. What I remember best about Kyle’s story in song is from the perspective of the owner of the home. The homeowner, who is never mentioned in the Biblical account, is featured in Kyle’s telling, and he has but one response: “My roof!”

We each come to this story today from different perspectives. Some of us come at this from the perspective of being the one in need of healing. You are either so tired and weary that you can hardly stand up, or you are so distressed and depressed that you cannot function. You need help, you need to be carried, and you silently come here in hope of finding the assistance you need. You are the paralytic.

Some of us come at this from the perspective of being the ones determined to find help for anyone in need. You are the one that always volunteers, always makes room in your schedule, always is in tune with people’s needs and dysfunctions. It is as if you have some type of internal radar that simply picks up on the hurt of others, and you make things happen that bring about healing. You are one of the friends.

Some of us come at this from the perspective of being the one that can always find the negative in any given situation. You are the one that is always concerned about how much this will cost you or how much trouble will be endured with the given situation. You are the homeowner in Kyle’s song – the one that’s never mentioned in the story, but you know he was there – worried about his roof.

But I believe that most of us are merely one of the crowd. We’ve packed in to see Jesus because we’ve heard quite a lot of buzz about him. When we heard some guys in the back saying “excuse me,” “pardon me,” “coming through,” we didn’t make room – we were too busy seeing for ourselves this One called Jesus. We didn’t even pay attention that they were trying to bring this disabled guy to Jesus. We were too self-absorbed and too mesmerized because we were in the presence of the much talked about Jesus. We were too needy ourselves. We didn’t even hear them up above us, tearing away the roof in order to lower their friend to Jesus. No – that day was all about us, and because of that – we missed it. We missed the strange sighting of God.

This is truly one of the great stories of the Gospels – packed with fodder for sermons. We could talk about the Pharisees and the teachers of the law and give them a really hard time. What were they doing there anyway? Trying to catch Jesus in a religious faux pas? We could talk about the faithfulness of the friends and ponder if they were really friends or not. When you hear this story, you assume they are all great friends – but the text doesn’t say that. It just says some men came, carrying a paralyzed man on a bed. Truth be told, those men may not have even known the name of the paralyzed one. The men may not have even known each other. Perhaps they simply saw someone in need and they set out to help. We could talk about the interesting turn of the phrase – “when Jesus saw their faith, he said, `Friend, your sins are forgiven,’” for it was “an act of persistence and determination that [was] interpreted as faith, [as] the men go up on the housetop and lower the paralyzed man down through the roof (New Interpreter’s, Volume IX, page 123)

But it is the end of this story today that is fascinating to me - the last phrase as a matter of fact. “Each of the Gospels points to a different meaning in the conclusion to the story. In Matthew the crowds glorify God for giving `such authority to human beings.’ In Mark the response seems to magnify the healing: `We have never seen anything like this!’ [But it is Luke that] uses a term that occurs nowhere else in the New Testament: `We have seen strange things {paradoxa} today.’” (New Interpreter’s, Volume IX, page 125)

Strange sightings of the Good News – I wish we could see them more often and more clearly. But we can’t – for we are too much like the crowd. We like to see the spectacular and the unbelievable. We, like the crowd, are never satisfied by the seemingly insignificant. We want to see a healing. We want to bear witness to a miracle. And in keeping our eyes peeled for the spectacular, we miss the strange sight of forgiveness. Note the sequence of our tale: the paralytic arrives in front of Jesus and when he saw their faith he claimed the forgiveness of sin upon the paralytic and said nothing of his ability (or disability) to walk; the real religious in the crowd – the sticklers of the law – begin to question this: who is this guy that can forgive the sins of another. (Can’t you just picture the paralytic? Hello!? What about me?!) And Jesus, sensing what’s really going on, understands that the crowd would rather witness a good healing than a moment of forgiveness.

What could be more fantastic and unbelievable? What could be more glitzy and miraculous? What could be more strange than the sight of forgiveness? “We have seen strange things today!” they finally said. Strange sightings indeed.

The headlines today would report strange sightings if we spoke words of forgiveness. Imagine what our world would be like if we spoke words of forgiveness. Christmas of 1983, a picture flashed across the world. The scene was a prison cell with two men – one in a white cassock, white cape, white skullcap. The other in a blue crew neck sweater, jeans, blue-and-white running shoes from which the laces had been removed. Time magazine relayed the story: last week, in an extraordinary moment of grace, the violence in St. Peter’s Square was transformed. In a bare, white-walled cell in Rome’s Rebibbia prison, John Paul tenderly held the hand that had held the gun that was meant to kill him. For 21 minutes, the Pope sat with his would-be assassin . . .the two talked softly . . .the Pope forgave him for the shooting. (The Living Pulpit, April-June 1994, Walter J. Burghardt, page 10)

Thomas Long is one the country’s premiere preachers. In an article he wrote on forgiveness he relays this story: “I was standing one day at the circulation desk of the library at the seminary where I teach when a friend of mine, a professional pastoral counselor, approached carrying a bulky stack of books. Watching him struggle under his load, I asked him what he was doing, teasing him a bit in the process, `What’s a pastoral counselor doing with all those heavy books?’ Undeterred, he quickly answered, `I’m doing some research on forgiveness.’ He shoved the books across the desk toward the librarian and dusted off his hands. I was surprised and puzzled. `Research on forgiveness?’ I asked. `What are you trying to find out?’ He thought for a moment and then replied, `I guess I’m trying to find out if forgiveness really exists or not. You know, I see so little evidence of it in my work.’” (The Living Pulpit, April-June 1994, Thomas Long, page 6)

Forgiveness really goes against our grain. Some folks just don’t deserve forgiveness. Long says that there is a good reason why forgiveness is rare – why the pastoral counselor questioned the existence of forgiveness. He says that “forgiveness is not only hard to do; it is impossible to do. Forgiveness in the New Testament sense is not something so simple as letting bygones be bygones. Forgiveness in the New Testament is full, clean, free restoration of relationship. It is not `forgive and forget’; It is `forgive and remember.’ In the New Testament, to forgive is to remember it all and still to forgive – to know every broken place, to feel every outrage another has committed against you, to limp from the pain another has inflicted upon you, and, yet, to count it as nothing.” (page 7)

But none of us can do that! And because we are convinced that we can’t, many times we settle for never trying. And when that happens revenge becomes too sweet or hearts simply become too hard. I am not suggesting that every bad marriage should remain in tact. That’s not forgiveness. I am not suggesting that every prison cell door be flung open. That’s not forgiveness. I am not suggesting that dictators who practice evil and breed terrorists be allowed free access to the world. But that is not what forgiveness is all about. We so quickly assume the absurdity of such occurrences when posed with the notion of forgiving. But Long offers this good word of hope. He says that we humans, stained and flawed, must live out of the forgiveness of God. He says “we are not being called, then, to create forgiveness or even to produce it in its fullness. We are being called to join in with that which is already given as a gift, to cease swimming against the stream of God’s grace, to lie on our back and float with the current.”

I think our world swims against the current of God’s grace. Perhaps because we can’t imagine that peace could ever really exist; perhaps because we can’t allow the ideal – which I think is teaching of Jesus - to reside in minds, we find ourselves swimming against the current of God’s grace. And swimming against the current is always more of a spectacle than floating in the stream of grace. And we do love a good spectacle.

Someone has said that we should not preach about the world situation without being more savvy about foreign policy and politics. I couldn’t disagree more. If our world needs to hear anything from modern day pulpits, it is a consistent prophetic word of peace. And peace is never achieved without forgiveness. We have so much fear about mixing religion and politics that our faith becomes benign outside of these walls. I believe Jesus was radically clear about how we are to treat people – family, friend, foe, and stranger alike. The world – clamoring for spectacles – is literally dying to hear a word that can only come from The Church. And I believe the early church was right on Jesus’ page. As stories circulated like the one we study today, and as we learn about this One who had come among them, they made sure that the strange sightings of God were included. This story, you see, has nothing to do with a healing. All the mesmerizing stuff of the ministry of Jesus did nothing but get in his way. Maybe that’s why he so often told people to keep quiet. What is amazing and strange is that this One offered forgiveness – without even being asked. And I am just idealistic enough to think that forgiveness is the best healing balm there is.

I think about Elisabeth. Will she grow up witnessing her parents forgiving one another? Will she grow up witnessing people in the church forgiving one another? Will she grow up witnessing forgiveness in the world? The only way Elisabeth will ever know anything about forgiveness will be if she bears witness to it. And the only way she csan bear witness to it is through us.

One year after the Pope’s visit, Newsweek carried this dispatch from Rome: [the would-be assassin] proclaimed that he was renouncing terrorism to become a man of peace. He traced his transformation to a prison visit with the Pope last year. After close reading of the Koran, he had become a devout Muslim with profound respect for Christianity. And he promised that if he were freed, he would become a preacher, going to all nations of the world preaching good and the truth to all people.”

We have seen strange things today. May it continue to be so.