'And it came to pass on a certain day, as He was
teaching, that there were Pharisees and doctors of the
law sitting by, which were come out of every town of
Galilee, and Judea, and Jerusalem; and the power of
the Lord was present to heal them. 18. And, behold,
men brought in a bed a man which was taken with a
palsy: and they sought means to bring him in, and to
lay him before Him. 19. And when they could not find
by what way they might bring him in because of the
multitude, they went upon the house-top, and let him
down through the tiling, with his couch, into the
midst before Jesus. 20. And when He saw their faith,
He said unto him, Man, thy sins are forgiven thee.
21. And the scribes and the Pharisees began to reason,
saying, Who is this which speaketh blasphemies? Who
can forgive sins but God alone? 22. But when Jesus
perceived their thoughts, He, answering, said unto
them, What reason ye in your hearts? 23. Whether is
easier to say, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to say,
Rise up and walk! 24. But that ye may know that the
Son of man hath power upon earth to forgive sins, (He
said unto the sick of the palsy,) I say unto thee,
Arise, and take up thy couch, and go unto thine house.
25. And immediately he rose up before them, and took
up that whereon he lay, and departed to his own house,
glorifying God. 26. And they were all amazed, and they
glorified God, and were filled with fear, saying, We
have seen strange things to-day.'--LUKE v. 17-26.
Luke describes the composition of the unfriendly observers in this
crowd with more emphasis and minuteness than the other Evangelists
do. They were Pharisees and doctors, and they were assembled from
every part of Galilee, and even from Judea, and, what was most
remarkable, from Jerusalem itself. Probably the conflict with the
authorities in the capital recorded in John v. had taken place by
this time, and if so, a deputation from the Sanhedrim would very
naturally be despatched to Capernaum, and its members would as
naturally summon the local lights to sit with them, and watch this
revolutionary young teacher, who had no licence from them, and
apparently not much reverence for them.
One can easily imagine that these heresy-hunters would be much too
superior persons to mix with the crowd about the door of Peter's
house, and would, as Luke says, be 'sitting by,' near enough to see
and hear, but far enough to show that they had no share in the
vulgar enthusiasm of these provincial peasants. They were too holy
to mingle with the mob, so they kept together by themselves, and
waited hopefully for some heresy or breach of their multitudinous
precepts. They got more than they expected.
We may note the contrast between their cynical watchfulness and the
glorious manifestations for which they had no eyes. 'The power of
the Lord'--that is, of Christ--'was' (operative) 'in His healing,'
or, according to another reading, 'to heal them.' But the critics
took no heed of that. There is a temper of mind which is sharp-eyed
as a lynx for faults, and blind as a bat to evidences of divine
power in the Gospel or its adherents. Some noses are keen to smell
stenches, and dull to perceive fragrance. The race of such
inquisitors is not extinct.
They contrast, too, with the earnestness of the four friends who
brought the paralysed man. The former sat cool and critical, because
they had no sense of need either for themselves or for others. The
latter made all the effort they could to fight through the crowd,
and then took to the roof by some outside stair, and hastily
stripping off enough of the tiling, lowered their friend, bed and
all, right down in front of the young Rabbi. The house would be low,
and the roof slight, and Jesus was probably seated in an open inner
court or verandah, At any rate, the description gives a piece of
local colour, and presents no improbability.
Earnestness in striving to come oneself or to bring a dear one to
Christ's feet seems a supremely absurd waste of energy to a cynical
critic, who feels no need of anything that Christ can give. It looks
rather different to the paralytic on his couch, and to the friends
who long for his healing.
The first lesson from this incident is that our deepest need is
forgiveness. No doubt, something in the paralytic's case determined
Christ's method with him. Perhaps his sickness had been brought on
by dissipation, and possibly conscience was lashing him with a whip
of scorpions, so that, while his friends sought for his healing, he
himself was more anxious for pardon. It is very unlikely that Jesus
would have offered forgiveness unless He had known that it was
yearned for. But whether that is so or not, we may fairly generalise
the order of givings in this miracle, and draw from it the lesson
that what Jesus then gave first is His chief gift. In most of His
other miracles He gave bodily healing first. First or second, it is
always Christ's chief gift in the beginning of discipleship. His
miracles of bodily healing are parables of that higher miracle. This
incident brings out what is always the order of relative importance,
whether it is that of chronological sequence or not.
And we all need to lay that truth to heart for ourselves. No
tinkering with superficial discomforts, or culture of intellect and
taste, or success in worldly pursuits, will avail to stanch the deep
wound through which our life-blood is ebbing out. We need something
that goes deeper than all these styptics. Only a power which can
deal with our sense of sin, and soothe that into blessed assurance
of pardon, is strong enough to grapple with our true root of misery.
It is useless to give a man dying of cancer medicine for pimples.
That is what all attempts to make man happy and restful while sin
remains unforgiven, are doing.
Social reformers need this lesson. Many voices proclaim many gospels
to-day. Culture, economical or social reconstruction, is trumpeted
as the panacea. But it matters comparatively little how society is
organised. If its individual members retain their former natures,
the former evils will come back, whatever its organisation. The only
thorough cure for social evils is individual regeneration. Christ
deals with men singly, and remoulds society by renewing the
individual. The most elaborate machinery may be used for filtering
the black waters. What will be the good of that if the fountain of
blackness is not sealed up, or rather purified, at its hidden
source? Make the tree good, and its fruit will be good. To make the
tree good, you must begin with dealing with sin.
The second lesson from this incident is that Christ's claim to
forgive sins is either blasphemy or the manifest token of divinity.
These Pharisees scented heresy at once. They were blind to the
pathos of the story, and hard as millstones towards the poor
sufferer's wistful looks. But they pounced at once gleefully on
Christ's words. They were perfectly right in their premises that
forgiveness was a divine prerogative which no man could share. For
sin is the name of evil, when considered in its relation to God. He
only can forgive it, for 'against Thee, Thee only,' as David
confessed, is it committed. True, the same act may be full of
harmful results to men, and may be a breach of human law, but in its
character as sin it refers to God only. Forgiveness is the
outpouring of God's love on a sinner, uninterrupted by his sin. Only
God can pour out that love.
But the cavillers were quite wrong in their conclusion. He did not
'blaspheme.' The fact that Jesus knew and answered their whispered
or unspoken 'reasonings in their hearts' might have taught them that
here was more than a rabbi, or even a prophet. But He goes on to
reiterate His assertion that He has power to forgive sins.
Observe that He does not deny their premises. Nor does He, as He was
bound in common honesty to do, set them right if they were wrong in
supposing that He had claimed divine power. A wise religious
teacher, who saw himself misunderstood as asserting that he could
give what he only meant to assure a penitent that God would give,
would have instantly said, 'Do not mistake me. I am only doing what
every servant of God's should and can do, telling this poor brother
that God is ready to forgive. God forbid that I should be supposed
to do more than to declare his forgiveness!' Christ's answer is the
strongest possible contrast to that. He knew what these Pharisees
supposed Him to have meant by His authoritative words, and knowing
it, He repeats them, and points to the miracle about to be done as
their vindication.
Is there any possible way of escaping from the conclusion that Jesus
solemnly and deliberately laid claim to exercise the divine
prerogative of dispensing pardon? If He did, what shall we say of
Him? Surely there is no third judgment of Him and His words
possible; but either the Pharisees were right, and 'this man,' this
pattern of all meekness and perfect example of humility, blasphemed,
or else Peter was right when he said, 'Thou art the Christ, the Son
of the living God.'
The third lesson is that the visible effects of Christ's power
attest the reality of His claim to produce the invisible effects of
peaceful assurance of forgiveness. It was equally easy to say, 'Thy
sins are forgiven thee,' and to say, 'Take up thy bed and walk.' It
was equally impossible for a mere man to forgive, and to give the
paralytic muscular force to move. But the one saying could be
tested, and its fulfilment verified by sight. The other could not;
but if the visible impossibility was done, it was a witness that the
invisible one could be.
The striking way in which our Lord weaves in His command to the
palsied man to take up his bed with His words to the Pharisees is
preserved in all the Gospels, and gives vividness to the narrative,
while it brings out the main purpose of the miracle. It was a
demonstration in the visible sphere of Christ's power in the
invisible. Both were divine acts, and that which could be verified
by sight established the reality of that which could not.
The same principle may be widely extended. It includes all the
outward effects of Christ's gospel in the world. There are abundance
of these which are patent to fair-minded observers. If one wishes to
know what these are, he has only to contrast heathen lands with
those in which, however imperfectly, Jesus is recognised as King and
Example. The lives of His disciples are full of faults, but they
should, and in a measure, do, witness to the reality of His gifts of
forgiveness and conquest of sin. He has done more to restore
strength to humanity paralysed for good than all other would-be
physicians put together have done; and since He has visibly effected
such manifest changes on outward lives, it is no rash conclusion to
draw that He can change the inward nature. If He has healed the
palsy, that is a work surpassing human power, and it proves that He
can forgive the sin which brought the paralysis, and tied the
helpless sufferer to his couch of pain.