Luke 5:12-32
I.
Now
with three or four disciples, Jesus continues his ministry. He is in some unnamed city of Galilee
when a leper approaches him. Now
the word “leprosy” in the Bible refers to any number of virulent skin diseases,
from Hansen’s Disease to Psoriasis to fungal infections. Whatever this man has, it is severe
because we are told he was “covered” with it.
The
consequences of having one of these diseases was exclusion from the community
and from all human contact. Often
they were highly contagious maladies; quarantining these folks was for the
protection of everyone else. But
there was also a ritual purity issue.
Having one of these conditions meant one was excluded from the religious
life of the people. They were
pariahs and outcasts.
Our
skin is the largest organ of our bodies; it contains and protects us and also
serves as a literal boundary between us and what is not us. It is the main receptor of our sense of
touch, and the interface between us and the world. It is the medium of our connection with each other. But when our skin is diseased and
dysfunctional it becomes, instead of a connection, a barrier, a separation, a
wall, cutting us off from true human contact, distorting our experience of the
world, and rendering us helpless, hopeless prisoners.
The
man who sees Jesus may have been breaking the law just by being with other
people at all. But he has enough
trust in Jesus to bow down to the ground and implore him, “Lord, if you choose,
you can make me clean.”
Jesus
then stretches out his hand and actually touches him, which would have
horrified anyone watching this.
Not only was Jesus opening himself to infection but he also would have
caught the man’s ritual impurity by touching him. By touching him, Jesus is taking on the man’s ostracization and isolation. Jesus did not have to touch him
physically; he heals plenty of people by his word alone. But the leper he touches.
If
we’re going to follow the Lord Jesus, we’re going to have to touch people. We’re going to have to touch the most untouchable people in our society. The people whom we render unclean, whom we cast out, whom we
decide are not worthy of our contact, those are the ones whom Jesus
touches. Are we not to follow his
example?
These
can be moral outcasts, political rejects, economic pariahs, as well as people
with physical diseases. The early
church was known for being the only community that would visit and minister to
plague victims in the Roman Empire.
Certainly many Christians caught the disease and died as well… but they
knew it was more important to express the love of Jesus Christ while they were
here, than to stay “pure.”
II.
Jesus
redefines purity. Now purity is determined by the
inclusive, welcoming love that binds us to each other. It is God’s love that both cleanses and connects us. The
impure one is not the one who has safely navigated through life without the
stain of disease, but the one who has been infected
with the love of God. Love is the “disease” that
purifies. The ones who don’t have
that disease are the ones who have cut themselves off from the gathering.
Jesus
sends the man to the priests to certify the cure and officially gain
readmission into the community, “for a testimony to them,” he says. And the testimony is that there is
Someone out there who is overturning the rules of who is in and who is
out. Someone is breaking down the
walls that divide us, excluding some, including others. Someone is shaking the foundations of
the system and taking away people’s impurities.
It
is only now that the guardians of the religious establishment get wind of
Jesus’ activities. If he is
erasing the fences that define and control the social order, they have to check
him out. So Pharisees and teachers
of the law venture up to Galilee.
Who is presuming to touch a leper and instead of contracting uncleanness
himself, the leper contracts purity from him?
Jesus
is teaching and healing in someone’s house. People have come from all over, especially sick people. It’s very crowded. A group of men arrive carrying a
paralyzed man on a stretcher, but they can’t get in. So they go up onto the flat roof. Somehow they carry him up there and sit him down while they
literally tear apart the tiled roof of the house!
Would
that anyone were that determined to get in here! Would that it were so crowded here that
people have to get imaginative to the point of destruction to get someone inside, to Jesus!
They
lower the man through the hole in the roof right in front of where Jesus
is. And when Jesus sees how much
the friends trust him, he says to the paralyzed man, “Friend, your sins are
forgiven you.”
What
prevents us from acting, walking,
taking initiative, doing something?
What paralyzes us? What prevents us from trusting
God? In my experience, it is
fear. Fear is the opposite of
trust. Fear is what paralyzes us;
fear is what causes us to fall short and miss the mark, which is what sin
literally means. And fear is what
Jesus releases in this man, based on the fearless trust of his friends.
I
can relate to the paralyzed man, not because I have ever been physically
paralyzed, but because my failures and sins are more a matter of what I didn’t do, what I didn’t say, where I didn’t
go. Sins of omission, they’re
called.
III.
So
Jesus is always about release and freedom. Forgiveness means release;
it means taking away the fear that binds us and prevents us from acting; it
takes away whatever paralyzes us.
The only antidote for fear, the means of forgiveness and release
perhaps, is trust. The man in the
story trusted his friends, who trusted in Jesus.
Jesus
forgives the man’s sins; he releases him of whatever was binding him. He takes away his fear by showing him
that the world is a safe place, a place where friends care enough about you to
rip somebody’s house apart so you can get the healing you need. In the story, this forgiveness, this
liberation, literally heals the man’s legs so he can get up and walk. In our lives, our fear is banished by
God’s love, and we are freed to get up and witness to it.
The
Pharisees and teachers of the law hear what Jesus says to the man, about being
forgiven, and they take issue.
They think Jesus is usurping the place of God. “Who can forgive sins but God alone?” Who indeed? They did not and could not realize that God was there in
Jesus Christ.
But
Jesus does not want to argue fine points of theology with them. He has a very practical and pragmatic
response to their protestations.
He says: “Well, I can tell him his sins are forgiven or I can tell him
to get up and walk. Which is
easier? They mean the same thing. If you prefer I will demonstrate that the man’s sins are
forgiven and simply tell him to start walking.” The proof that the man’s sins are
forgiven, that is, the proof that he has been released of whatever was binding
him and causing his paralysis, is that he’s no longer paralyzed. He can walk.
Forgiveness
of sins is not a theoretical, abstract, technical, mental, psychological
thing. It’s not just positive
thinking or having a different attitude.
It actually works. It has effects. The forgiven
life is different in every respect from the unforgiven
life. It is the difference between
bondage and freedom. It is the difference
between lying helpless on the floor and getting up and jumping around.
And
Jesus says that “the Son of Man,” or the “Human One,” has the authority on
earth to forgive sins, to release people from their slavery. This authority belongs to the Messiah;
and he gives the church this authority explicitly in John 20. We are a community of forgiveness, of
liberation, or release. We are
here to continue his ministry of setting people free.
We
demonstrate this not by adhering to the correct doctrine, but by actually
setting people free. Free from sins, addictions, social
cages, poverty, bad habits, destructive relationships, anger, shame, and
fear. Whatever is keeping people
from realizing their own true humanity revealed in Jesus Christ, that’s what we
are to be about setting them free from.
IV.
So
far we have seen Jesus heal two men with very visible, physical diseases. A man covered in a virulent skin
disease, and a paralyzed man.
After the paralytic is healed and picks up his own stretcher and walks
home praising God, Jesus eventually leaves that house and goes into the
street. And there he meets another
man, another man in slavery or bondage.
Only this time it is not so obvious. This time the man is perfectly healthy; his bondage is
revealed in what he does for a living. He is a tax collector.
His
name is Levi, and he sits at a booth in the middle of town where people come to
pay their taxes. It is not a happy
place. There is a lot of anger,
hatred, pain, resentment, sadness, and brokenness in and around that
booth. It is a nexus of dark
energy. No one is having any
fun. The misery is mitigated for
Levi by the fact that this work is wildly remunerative.
Jesus,
fresh from healing many people including the paralytic, probably has crowds
following him. He comes to the
booth, and instead of turning up his nose and ignoring it, or scowling,
muttering, and making an offensive gesture at it, Jesus looks over there and
catches Levi’s eye. And Jesus only
says two words, “Follow me.” “You,
let’s go!” “Come and be my
disciple.”
And
Levi, right then and there, quits the tax collection racket, and joins
Jesus. He hears Jesus’ call; he
senses Jesus’ acceptance of him; he takes Jesus up on his invitation. Jesus wants him… which was an
unprecedented experience for Levi.
Jesus releases him from a dead-end job in which he got rich oppressing
his neighbors.
And
that evening he invites Jesus to come to his house and have dinner with him and
his other tax collector, lowlife, reject, sinner friends. It’s like he is saying to them, “Come
have dinner with the man who set me free!” And Jesus, and his disciples, sit down to share a meal with
the most despised people in town.
The
Pharisees, who are the guardians of social and religious propriety, complain to
Jesus’ disciples. Why would
anyone, least of all a religious teacher, associate with such people? Doesn’t his association with them
condone their lifestyle and their oppressive activity? Wouldn’t someone be led to think that
Jesus actually approves of these
people, who are shredding the social fabric and squeezing people dry?
V.
Jesus
does not approve of sin. That is,
he is in a constant battle with the forces within us and outside of us that
imprison, enslave, constrict, and cripple us. As the fulfillment and embodiment of the Exodus, Jesus
threatens and breaks every shadow of Pharoah over us. He realizes that God is not punishing people for their sins so much as it is people
who punish themselves by their sins,
by clinging to whatever oppresses us.
Sin is like an addiction and Jesus has come to break its hold over us.
He
does approve of people. So when he
encounters the leper, the paralytic and his friends, and Levi, he sees
people. He relates to and
identifies with people. He is,
after all, fully and most truly human.
He sees in others himself.
And he also sees what is cruelly torturing people, what is keeping them
down, broken, in pain, confused, and imprisoned. He welcomes and loves and blesses the person, which shatters
the power of the chains that bind them.
But
he doesn’t usually do that without sharing fellowship with them, eating with
them, living with them, walking with them, associating with, receiving,
touching, addressing, and embracing people. Sinful people.
Jesus does not sit on a mountain like the proverbial perfect guru. Neither does he wall himself off in a
study or sanctuary, for people to come to him. He spends his whole career with people, in human society,
constantly encountering needy, imprisoned, hurting human beings.
Yes,
Luke reports him frequently and regularly withdrawing into deserted places to
pray. So he shows this balance
between action and contemplation.
But most of his day is in the thick of human society. That is to whom he is sent by God.
That
is to whom we are sent as well.
Realizing that every person is a blessing and a miracle created in God’s
holy Image, and also that every person languishes in a prison usually of their
own making. We are all torturing,
crippling, defiling, and killing ourselves, and therefore each other… and it’s
happening for no good reason. I am
reminded of Thoreau’s famous words: “Most
men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in
them.”
We
have each been given a song by God to contribute to the choir of creation. Jesus Christ comes into the world to
set our songs free.
What’s your song? How can
your song liberate the song of your neighbor? How can we be as welcoming, as healing, as freeing, as
inclusive, and as empowering as Jesus Christ? Where are the lepers, paralytics, and tax collectors among
us? Who is going to bring the
liberating grace of God in Jesus Christ to them but us?
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