Monday, March 5, 2012

Forgiveness and Confession from 7th Sunday OT

Nothing can paralyze a group of middle school boys like a member of the opposite sex. Back when I was in middle school we used to have school dances. Looking back these were such awkward occasions. All the kids would be gathered in the gym. The lights would be dim. The music would be playing. And inevitably, the boys were on one side of the gym. The girls were on the other. My friends and I would be doing the tough guy thing, checking out the girls from across the way. We would be talking big and confident. And once in a while, we would be shocked—a girl would walk over to our group. God bless her. We had no idea what we were doing. She would flip her hair back, smile, wave her eyelashes. And she would see if anyone wanted to dance. Mouths open—probably drooling--we would stand silent. Not moving. We talked big, but no one had the courage. We were paralyzed!


Now as familiar as this scene may be, we all know there are other, more serious ways that human beings can be paralyzed.

We encounter two other ways in today’s gospel. The first is more obvious. A man who is physically paralyzed is brought to Jesus by his friends. We can see their desperation. Who knows how long this man has endured, unable to move. Their only hope is the man who is known to heal others. If only they could get their friend next to him. Yet the crowds are too great. So they break the roof open. They lower him down. They are desperate. They are finally of front of Jesus. And yet, this man’s physical paralysis is far from Jesus’ first concern. Rather than heal this man’s body, Jesus heals this man’s soul. He first forgives him of his sins. He only later heals the man of his physical paralysis. In attending to the man’s soul first, perhaps Jesus is giving us an insight into a more common form of paralysis that we all may experience—a paralysis of the soul.



The HBO series The Pacific chronicles the United States Marine’s effort to hold back and defeat the advancing Japanese front during World War II. Eugene Sledge is one of those Marines. After many horrific months of war, he is able to return home to Alabama. On the final episode of the series, Eugene is walking through the woods, hunting doves with his father. Holding a shotgun, the scene is reminiscent of the many marches he has made through Pacific islands and mountains. He begins grasping for air, he sobs, and then falls to the ground on his knees. At this point he is bawling uncontrollably. His father rushes over, only to hear him mumbling “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I can’t do it.” His father drops to his knees, embraces him tightly, and allows his jacket to soak the tears. Eugene had physically survived the war, but his soul had been paralyzed. He simply couldn’t go on.


Perhaps we too have been paralyzed in the soul. There are memories and experiences that continue to haunt us, over and over. They keep playing over in our mind. They drop us to our knees. Some may be of sins we have committed that haunt us in the quiet hours of the night; those things that we fear no one could ever understand; those things that cause shame that eats at our stomach. Some are even the sins that have been committed against us. We have been hurt. We have seen too much. We can’t go on. We can’t return to the innocence that we once had. Yet the Gospel today speaks that there is something more.



As I’m sure you are all aware the Church has been in the news a lot lately. One of the criticisms that people often have is that the Church is restrictive and only concerned about rules and law. I can understand that some people would feel this way. Yet first and foremost, our Church must be seen and experienced as a placing of healing and love. We approach this alter bringing the pains of the week and lay them at the foot of Christ. In just a few minutes, some of us will be anointed, and the same hand that healed the paralytic man will extend healing to us. And as we move into Lent, we will all have an opportunity to go to confession. To drop at the foot of a priest—who stands in for Jesus himself—the great weight of our heart. We can lose those things that keep us paralyzed in the soul.


You know, maybe we won’t be dropping through the roof to receive Jesus in these ways. But let us not pass up the opportunity to also say: we have never seen anything like this!!!

1 comment:

  1. How about adding some links to the other Glenmary blogs right here on your blog page?

    ReplyDelete