“A Mat-Carrying Community”
A Sermon Preached by
The Rev. Jean N. Lenk
Sunday, February 12, 2012
First Congregational Church of Stoughton
United Church of Christ
Text: Mark 2:1-12
When
you're down and troubled and you need a helping hand
and
nothing, no nothing is going right.
Close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there
Close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there
to brighten up even your darkest nights.
You
just call out my name, and you know wherever I am
I'll
come running, to see you again.
Winter,
spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call
and
I'll be there. You've got a friend.[i]
The paralyzed man in this
morning’s gospel lesson has got a friend – in fact, he has four of them. They are devoted, determined, and unwilling
to let anything get in the way of his being healed. And because of their fierce loyalty and
faithfulness, the paralyzed man’s life is completely transformed.
This story shows us how to offer
friendship, and also how to receive it, which can be more difficult because it
puts us in a position of weakness, of need, of vulnerability. That is certainly the situation with the
paralyzed man. Can you imagine what life
in the ancient world is like for him?
He lives out his days confined to a
mat; his entire world has shrunk to a space only three feet wide and six feet
long. He is totally dependent on other
people to feed him, carry him, clothe him, and clean up after him. And nothing can be done for him medically –
no surgery or treatment centers, no rehab or occupational therapy to help him
gain even a little independence.
Even worse, in the narrow religious
thinking of first century Palestine, it is assumed that he must have done
something sinful and his disability is God’s punishment. And so, rather than receiving sympathy for
his unfortunate circumstances, the paralytic gets blamed for his lot in life
and is pushed to the margins of society to eke out of living as a beggar,
dependent on the generosity of others.
But he
has something going for him that changes everything – his friends. Those friends have heard about Jesus, about
his healing power, his forgiveness of sins.
The four friends find out that Jesus is in Capernaum
We don’t
know from the passage how the paralyzed man reacts; we only know that his
friends want to help, they want him healed, and nothing is going to stop them. We can only imagine what a struggle it is to
get their friend to the house where Jesus is preaching.
But
when they finally arrive, they find that the crowds have blocked the door. There is no such thing as handicap
accessibility – no special parking spaces, no ramps, no reserved seating. And so the four carry their friend up to the
roof of the house, and open a hole in that roof, and then lower him down into
the room where Jesus is. And the text
tells us that when Jesus sees “their faith”
– the faith of the four friends, he says to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are
forgiven… stand up, take your mat and go
to your home.” Go to your new life; go
out healed and whole.
We all have some kind of affliction.
It may not be as obvious as the paralytic’s, but we all suffer from
something that paralyzes and confines us to our own kinds of mats, preventing
us from living life with the fullness of joy that God intends. Perhaps our
paralysis is in the form of an addiction – to food, to gambling, to alcohol, to
drugs. Maybe our paralysis is emotional
– uncontrollable anger or a guilty conscious, a lack of confidence, or an
inability to trust or to forgive or to love.
Maybe our paralysis comes from issues within our family – frail and
aging parents; emotionally distant spouses; difficult or troubled children.
And in many ways, our culture – which so values success and
self-reliance and independence -- is not much more accepting of such neediness
than was society of Jesus’ time. Our
fast-paced world is not a very gracious place for those who can’t keep up with the
majority.[ii]
And one of the casualties of our 21st century timetables is
meaningful relationships. How often do we
hear (or say) things like, “We’ve got to get together soon,” or “Let’s do lunch
in a few weeks when things settle down”?
And we never quite get around to it.
Real friendship requires time – we can’t mourn in a hurry with those who
mourn, or rejoice in a hurry with those who rejoice. And we can’t carry someone’s mat in a hurry.
I’m not talking about being friendly.
Friendly is the guy who calls you on the phone – usually at dinnertime –
to try to sell you something. He calls
you by your first name; asks how your day is going; speaks in warm and caring
tones; and seems genuinely concerned that your long-distance carrier might not
be providing the kind of service that a busy person like you might need. Sure, he may be friendly, but as soon as you
tell him that you’re not interested in what he’s trying to sell, the
relationship is over. He is not your
friend.
No, friendship is different. In
friendships, real friendships, people carry mats and crash through roofs
without asking the question, “What’s in it for me?
So
let me ask you – do you have someone to carry your mat? Someone you can reveal your weakness and
struggles to? Someone who will pray for
you and with you? Do you have someone you
will let see your brokenness? Because if
you want deep friendship, you can’t always be the strong one. You will sometimes have to let down your
guard, be vulnerable, and let somebody else carry your mat.
And,
are you willing to carry someone’s mat?
Are you willing to leave your judgment and assumptions at the door, to
offer love and compassion and forgiveness without condition, to keep
confidences entrusted to you?
Such
friendships – at both the giving and the receiving ends – might be hard to find
in the normal course of our lives, but they can develop in a caring community
like the church. You have heard me say
more than once that the Christian faith is rooted in relationship – with
God through Christ, and with one another.
It has been that way since the first Christians began meeting
together. We read in the book of Acts
that members of the early church worshiped together,
ate together, talked together, prayed together – all on a daily basis. And in the process, they became a caring
community.
And
here in this church, anytime two or more of us get together, it is an
opportunity to build circles of trust and develop deep and meaningful
relationships and create safe places in which we can reveal our authentic
selves -- with all our imperfections and vulnerabilities -- and be assured of
acceptance, love, and caring, and to offer it in return.
Jesus is moved by the faith of
the four friends. He sees in them a
little of what God intended when God made human beings. And that’s what the church is called to be –
a loving community, a caring community, a mat-carrying community.
The
paralyzed man receives a great gift the day Jesus heals him. But his greatest gift, humanly speaking, is
his friends. I pray that we can be a
mat-carrying community – being generous enough to offer loving, compassionate,
and unconditional friendship to others, and being gracious enough to receive it,
too, when life has brought us to our knees, and we are struggling to get up
from our mats. Because in that
friendship is the place where we can meet Jesus and be healed. Amen.
