Christian Art | Jesus Heals A Paralyzed Man
Matthew 9: 1-8 – Week 13 Ordinary Time, Thursday (King James Audio Bible KJV, Spoken Word)
1 AND he entered into a ship, and passed over, and came into his own city.
2 And, behold, they brought to him a man sick of the palsy, lying on a bed: and Jesus seeing their faith said unto the sick of the palsy; Son, be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee.
3 And, behold, certain of the scribes said within themselves, This man blasphemeth.
4 And Jesus knowing their thoughts said, Wherefore think ye evil in your hearts?
5 For whether is easier, to say, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to say, Arise, and walk?
6 But that ye may know that the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins, (then saith he to the sick of the palsy,) Arise, take up thy bed, and go unto thine house.
7 And he arose, and departed to his house.
8 But when the multitudes saw it, they marvelled, and glorified God, which had given such power unto men.
For the Jewish people, the sickness of the paralyzed man was a symptom of underlying sin. It was a punishment, a consequence of one’s own moral evil or of one’s parents. We can imagine the social consequences for the paralyzed man, in the light of the various exclusions which were applied to disabled people.
In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus meets the paralyzed man, and those who carry him, on his way back from Decapolis to Capernaum, the city Jesus has made his home upon leaving Nazareth. In the equivalent passage in Mark’s Gospel, the situation is that there is a great crowd around Jesus, when Jesus is at home, and so the paralyzed man’s friends have the idea of climbing up to the roof to lower the paralyzed man down to Jesus, so that Jesus may heal him. This may illuminate the thought of Jesus ‘seeing their faith’ in today’s Gospel verses. In both Gospels, the journey toward Jesus is a journey of faith, marked by confidence in the truth of the healing miracles. We note that the paralyzed man cannot come to Jesus on his own; he needs his friends to bring him to Jesus. So the sinner may not be able to help himself, his sin being a kind of paralysis of heart. The sinner needs leading to Jesus by his friends.
Jesus tells the paralyzed man that his sins are forgiven. This might have seemed very strange to the man, who has come seeking a physical cure, but, of course, Jesus is looking to the heart of the man, and providing healing of that which is fundamental, of the man’s soul. The physical healing will also be provided, as a sign of the deeper cure.
For the Jewish scribes, this is a terrible thing for Jesus to say. It is blasphemy. Only God can forgive sins, and so Jesus appears to be arrogating to himself an exclusively divine authority, purporting to be as God. As they murmur against Jesus, because of the evil in their hearts, Jesus cuts through the scribes’ objections by asking them to think of the two types of healing, physical and spiritual. Which is easier – to say, to effect, to demonstrate? Anyone could have said, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ but it was for Jesus to effect such healing, such that the words produced a new reality. It is the healing of the physical symptoms of sin that demonstrate Jesus’ power, and so also Jesus’ power over any underlying sin. This is to demonstrate divine power.
The Gospel verses tell us now that the people glorified God, who had given such authority to men to forgive sins. Through Jesus, the capacity for forgiveness becomes diffused to others as a human capacity. Matthew means us to know that we are able as people to forgive one another. There is no room in our healthy relationships with God and with one another to dwell on grievances. ‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive others who trespass against us.’
Jesus passes on to his apostles the power to forgive sins: ‘[H]e breathed on them, and saith unto them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost: Whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them; and whose soever sins ye retain, they are retained.’ (John 20: 22-23) This delegated power comes down to us, as we confess our sins and as we ask forgiveness.
Miracle | Prayer | Healing | King James Audio Bible | KJV | King James Version
Concluding Prayer
BLESSED is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.
2 Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no guile.
3 When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my roaring all the day long.
4 For day and night thy hand was heavy upon me: my moisture is turned into the drought of summer. Selah.
5 I acknowledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin. Selah.
6 For this shall every one that is godly pray unto thee in a time when thou mayest be found: surely in the floods of great waters they shall not come nigh unto him.
7 Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance. Selah.
8 I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye.
9 Be ye not as the horse, or as the mule, which have no understanding: whose mouth must be held in with bit and bridle, lest they come near unto thee.
10 Many sorrows shall be to the wicked: but he that trusteth in the Lord, mercy shall compass him about.
11 Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, ye righteous: and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart. (Psalm 32/31)
In this verse of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus emphasizes the value and importance of children in the eyes of God. Jesus welcomes children with open arms and assures us that the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these. This message highlights the need to care for and protect children, especially those who are most vulnerable. Jesus’ compassion for children is a powerful reminder of our responsibility to ensure children’s well-being and to provide them with the love and support they need [ … ]
This reflection, drawn from Saint Cyril of Alexandria’s commentary on the Letter to the Romans, richly develops the theological significance of unity, divine mercy, and the universality of salvation. The passage resonates deeply with themes central to Eastertide: renewal, reconciliation, and the triumph of divine love through the risen Christ. St Cyril, a towering figure in patristic theology and a staunch defender of orthodoxy at the Council of Ephesus, here offers a profound meditation on the body of Christ and the universal scope of redemption [ … ]
The Carrefour will be open, where I can buy nuts for the red squirrel, who lives in Campo Grande. The red squirrel is Valladolid’s best bit. Even as a child, I had never seen one before, apart from in picture books. It was last term’s discovery. The most beautiful encounter. I didn’t know it was there – in the park. A complete surprise. The tiny little thing bobbled and hopped, as it received in its little hands a nut from the man’s hands. Each surprising instant – it was childlike. I whispered: ‘Oh my wow.’ I walk toward the El Cortes Ingles. There is, for now, that settled feel of friends in bookshops. Though a null-affect, neutral day – it won’t glean, it is not to be scratched at. The queues are long in the Carrefour. Though, as it might be, on relatively modest incomes, many people live centrally. Their behaviours neither pinched nor stark. Yet the shop so busy while the street so empty… An error in the simulation, a glitch in the code. I potter about the aisles, which are pleasant enough, then at the tills I flinch at how expensive a little bag of up-sold nuts can be. Nonetheless, I queue for a packet of almonds. Two English men queue directly ahead of me. They are stocky, and have gay voices, their wheelie-bucket piled with soft drinks and party food, while they bitch to one another about the obviously terrible party they’re going to. The air heaves relief as I wander up the way to the broad plaza fringing Campo Grande. This is a place to see – a piece of Spain. There is a tourist information office, though unopened. At these fountains, three girls take selfies. Pompous-looking buildings, the military offices aside, line the park’s nearest vicinities. Hotel-bars have their patches. Liveried doormen idle time, for there are no paying customers, in and out the doorways’ shadows. A mixed group of kids play at the hoops on the pedestrian boulevard, and two boys practise on skateboards, working the thing out. I pass by them, touched by the thought, and happy that they are there. Wistful, I smile at the odds of the ball spilling over to me, and play in mind the agreeable scene of a fleeting connection. Then I am through the park gates. An air now – of humanity become self-selecting. Modestly understated. Understatedly modest. Campo Grande is nice but it isn’t grande… I walk slowly, and very soon hear for a second time English voices. Not them – it is an English family, just a little way ahead, a Dad and a Mum and a younger boy and an older girl, and theirs are Midlands accents. Dad seems to have been here and to know the place. He gestures panoramically. Mum wants her lunch. The girl at a difficult age. She carries a balloon-on-a-stick. Though she is sprouting – yet wears a loud dress. Then leggings, trainers. Her hair is nice… Maybe she is being okay about it. And not horrific. It’s okay once they get into it, but those months… Yet then, they mostly blossom, if they come from a good home, and become rounded personalities, entering into their womanhood. It was that… when yet they weren’t… I shudder to think of it. They walk toward the pond, and I trail, and would follow had I not been going that way. I wish I could say something so they might hear I am English too. (Fake a phone call?) How my voice might sound – there’d be all college hurling around in such matter I… a demented thing, ludicrous blurt – of Henry, Geoff, and all of them – not to mention the personal predicament. Maybe they’re a nice family. She is letting him explain what he needs to explain. And it would blow his fire, me being English. Mum and Dad. You’d probably see them all having their lunch in a little while. All sat round the table. With napkins and the menus out. Dad looks safe. I look into the pond. Terrapins live in there. But not today. I walk toward the join in the paths where the squirrel lives. There, I crumple the packet of almonds, making noise. I peer and I squat and crouch – chewing a mouthful. All the peacocks have perched right up in the trees’ branches. That never looks like something they should be doing. It’s disappointing that the squirrel isn’t here – but then the not-knowing-if is a part of it. Now, next, my visit to the National Sculpture Museum is an obligation. Canon Peter stood literally aghast when I hadn’t heard of it. Mortified, I made resolute promises. Though a few weeks have passed, it isn’t just any old something I could do on the hoof. A great commitment – it must command a known and prepared and anticipated not-just-any-old-time. But, rather, the sort you must wait for – and listen for. [ … ] Beyond Plaza Mayor, there would be a brief series of old-town alleyways. The National Sculpture Museum would be – just up there, this archway, this next…They are bleached and forgotten-looking walls, and the smoothed paving could be medieval. Not that it is making Tomàs anxious – I follow the map. A kind of place – uneasy credit-cards, and modern vaccinations, and a phone, might not help much. I fancy I feel the back-wall of a church, and that – fancifully – pressure-release drawn out of me. Only I am playing games in a nice way – making play-scared on the uncertainty – with only myself to see. The National Museum is there, modestly signed on stencilled plexiglass stuck to the stone wall. A uniformed lady sits just a little way inside the doorway. She reassures me there is no money required, and directs me over the courtyard into the planned route, showing me where I can pick up a free map. I get my […]
