Earlier this year, I posted a couple of excerpts from a book I am working on, the tentative title of which is "Sacred Reading through St. Mark." Here is another from chapter 2. (n.b. The Chapters follow exactly those given in the Gospel text.)
But there were certain of the scribes sitting there, and reasoning in their hearts, Why doth this man thus speak blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God only? And immediately when Jesus perceived in his spirit that they so reasoned within themselves, he said unto them, Why reason ye these things in your hearts? Whether is it easier to say to the sick of the palsey, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to say, Arise, and take up thy bed, and walk? But that ye may know that the Son of man hath power on earth to forgive sins, (he saith to the sick of the palsey,) I say unto thee, Arise, and take up thy bed, and go thy way into thine house. And immediately he arose, took up the bed, and went forth before them all; insomuch that they were all amazed, and glorified God, saying, We never saw it on this fashion. (vs. 6-12)
[T]hy sins be forgiven thee." Given the religious climate and the state of medical knowledge in 1st century Palestine, the scribes are used to assuming that anyone who is afflicted with a bodily or psychological disease (be it leprosy, schizophrenia, demonic possession, etc.) must, simply must, also be a sinner (or the inheritor of parental guilt). And, people being who we are, it is not a great distance from there to associate the severity of the symptoms with the severity of the sinful act(s). Think here of John 9, the healing of the man born blind, especially verse 34: "[The Pharisees] answered and said unto him, Thou wast altogether born in sins, and dost thou teach us? And they cast him out." Here again, this poor man is conveniently (at least for some!) squeezed into the pharisaical box of preconceived notions and readily dismissed without a second thought. I am horrified by how easily I have fallen into this trap in my own life. Lord, have mercy on us for all those times we condemn others for merely challenging our preconceptions and our comfort zones!
So I guess the question for us is: what exactly is Jesus forgiving here in this context? Perhaps He is doing two things here: 1. giving comfort and assurance to the sick man who has likely grown used to thinking in the same categories as the Scribes when it comes to the correlation between sinfulness and sickness and 2. plowing through the suspicions and prejudices of the religious establishment and overcoming their partial worldview with the whole truth of the matter.
As to the first instance, I have been taking an online course through BiblicalTraining.org on the Book of Proverbs, taught by Dr. Bruce Waltke. In the session on hermeneutics (the methodology of interpretation), Prof. Waltke speaks of the 'pre-understanding' that we bring to a given text or situation. This is not just simply to be understood as our own developed prejudices, but (more wholistically) knowing 'who I am' and 'where I am going'. Think about that in relation to our present context. The Scribes certainly think they know who this sick man is (a sinner!) and where he is headed (oblivion, if not outright perdition!). I wonder if he has heard such things often enough that he started to believe them himself. What makes it even worse is when such is perpetrated in the name of religion. How psychologically damaging it is when those we ought to be able to trust (parents, teachers, clergy, etc.) use their authority in such a destructive way.
So, for this sick man to hear, first of all, that he is indeed forgiven (both for his actual sins and those assigned to him by established religious misconception) must be a great relief indeed. In and because of Jesus, his humanity is being restored. He is indeed more than a worthless sinner, he is a creation in the image and after the likeness of God (cf. Gen. 1:26)
Secondly, to the Scribes Jesus says "that you may know..." Notice what has transpired first: forgiveness, then healing. The one logically follows on from the other. It is my current practice to make a private, sacramental confession on the Ember Saturdays that occur throughout the year. I say this not to boast, but by way of illustration: several times I have been moved to tears not only recalling my sins and speaking them out loud in the hearing of another, but also at the great relief that comes from hearing the words of absolution. Our Lord Jesus Christ, through the counsel of His minister, accepts our repentance and grants forgiveness through the all-sufficient merits of the Cross and Resurrection. But, He is also saying (to us personally and to the Scribes of the present instance): You can do this too.You do not have to be the Son of God to say to someone, I forgive you.
"Whether is it easier to say to the sick of the palsey, Thy sins be forgiven thee; or to say, Arise, and take up thy bed, and walk?" Neither one of these things was particularly 'easy' for the Scribes. But that is what Jesus is calling them to, a ministry of reconciliation. And, do you know what? He is calling us to do the same thing. Not everyone is going to be gifted with a physical healing, but anyone can say "I forgive you" to someone else. Yet isn't it the case that sometimes we would prefer to have the former gift instead of 'having' to exercise the latter, which is our common inheritance?
The Scribes here are the perfect example of what not to do, being as they are trapped inside a box of their own making and choosing that admits of no alteration. I say this to myself as much as to anyone else, whatever (or whoever) it is in your life that is in need of compassion and forgiveness, take a chance and offer it. Open up the lid and let in a little light and fresh air. And, if that seems too difficult, the following is some good counsel from the aforementioned Fr. Stephen Freeman:
"Use this prayer for the enemies who [or prejudices that] seem to be beyond your ability to pray: 'O God, at the dread judgment, do not condemn them for my sake.' This places forgiveness at a distance and even a hard heart can often manage the small prayer of forgiveness at such a distance." (ibid)
Friday, September 25, 2015
Brother Paphnutius - an ongoing parable (Part IV)
"And [Jesus] came and touched the bier: and they that bare him stood still. And he said, Young man, I say unto thee, Arise. And he that was dead sat up and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother. And there came a fear on all: and they glorified God, saying, That a great prophet is risen up among us; and, That God hath visited his people. (Luke 7: 14-16)
Death
Early January, 367 A.D. - The Egyptian desert
Early in the afternoon all of the brethren had gathered in their community church (wherein they sing daily Vespers and Sunday Liturgy together) for a funeral service. One of the younger monks was found dead in his cell that morning, apparently having committed suicide. He, a convert from paganism, had come to religious life only a few years prior and was known as a fervent and sincere believer (as indeed he was).
But...there were rumours-and Paphnutius had heard them-that this young man struggled with homosexuality. No one, however, was suggesting that he lead anything other than a life of perfect continence.
This young brother felt deeply the struggle within himself and always pushed himself, maybe a bit too hard, in his ascetic practices in order to try and compensate. There was a perpetual tension within. On the one hand the testimony of the Scriptures and the vows he had taken obliged him to a life without physical intimacy. On the other hand, his heart yearned to share himself with another, a desire that not even a sincere believer can always come to terms with. So, perhaps, in this tragic moment, the tension became too much to bear.
Okay, here's where things get interesting.
While the brethren were in the church praying the funeral liturgy, including the text: "I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die", Br. Paphnutius was standing near the body and the text from St. Luke that opens this story came to mind. He always associated this great mercy of Jesus with His final act of pastoral ministry on the Cross when He entrusted the Theotokos to the care of St. John, to wit: "Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalen. When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son! Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home." (John 19: 25-27)
And so it was that while Paphnutius was commending this troubled young soul to the same care and mercy of God that is so evident throughout the Gospels, he noticed something unusual. He thought he saw signs of breathing. 'Wait. There it is again.' Then a leg moved. Then...he sat upright. Then......the liturgy ceased.
Br. Paphnutius took him by the hand, lead him toward the elder of their group and had the young man kneel down before him so that the brethren could lay their hands on his head as a gesture of compassion and restoration. Not a word was spoken until they depared the church. Then again, nothing could be said right then that was of any value anyway.
Paphnutius spent the rest of that day talking with the young man, sharing a meal with him and assuring himself that those inner struggles that had previously consumed the younger one were entirely converted. Thanks be to God.
It is now what we would know as 2:30 a.m. Paphnutius picks up the scroll he had set down earlier, unrolls it, and begins his nightly vigil: "Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord; Lord hear my voice." (Ps. 130:1)
The moral of (this part) of the story: It seems to me that these days there is an awful lot of fretting and confusion surrounding issues of personal identity. Are you gay, straight, transgendered, married, single, just plain confused? It doesn't really matter so much where you have come from as it does that you are here in this present moment. What it is you choose to do with this moment can make all the difference in the world, both for this life and the life to come. Our Lord Jesus Christ has said: "[B]ehold, the kingdom of God is within you." (Lk. 17:21) Do you believe this?
Death
Early January, 367 A.D. - The Egyptian desert
It has been unseasonably cold this year. With so few, and such primitive, human settlements as there are in this region, not much is there to trap the heat of the sun's warmth in this part of the world. It is about 1:00 a.m. as we know it. Br. Paphnutius has been awake since early yesterday morning. As he looks out from his cave, the view is expansive (which he appreciates, though it is not something that he sought out for its own sake). There is frost on the ground, some snow dusted onto the distant hills and three or four lights off in the distance; letting him know that his brethren are keeping their own watch in solidarity with him.
But not Paphnutius. At least not yet. He picked up one of the Psalter rolls, but immediately put it back down. Tonight is different. He is still absorbed by the events of earlier yesterday. Now, you might be thinking to yourself: aren't monks supposed to strive to always live in the present, neither regurgitating the past nor projecting worry onto the future? And you would be right.
Sometimes, though, things stay with us and not by our own volition. So while events belonging to the past are over and done, their "echo" if you will can still hold a place in our consciousness. And, in that sense, even something of what is past remains also in the present. That is a way to see it anyway.
Here's what happened.
Early in the afternoon all of the brethren had gathered in their community church (wherein they sing daily Vespers and Sunday Liturgy together) for a funeral service. One of the younger monks was found dead in his cell that morning, apparently having committed suicide. He, a convert from paganism, had come to religious life only a few years prior and was known as a fervent and sincere believer (as indeed he was).
But...there were rumours-and Paphnutius had heard them-that this young man struggled with homosexuality. No one, however, was suggesting that he lead anything other than a life of perfect continence.
This young brother felt deeply the struggle within himself and always pushed himself, maybe a bit too hard, in his ascetic practices in order to try and compensate. There was a perpetual tension within. On the one hand the testimony of the Scriptures and the vows he had taken obliged him to a life without physical intimacy. On the other hand, his heart yearned to share himself with another, a desire that not even a sincere believer can always come to terms with. So, perhaps, in this tragic moment, the tension became too much to bear.
Okay, here's where things get interesting.
While the brethren were in the church praying the funeral liturgy, including the text: "I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die", Br. Paphnutius was standing near the body and the text from St. Luke that opens this story came to mind. He always associated this great mercy of Jesus with His final act of pastoral ministry on the Cross when He entrusted the Theotokos to the care of St. John, to wit: "Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalen. When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son! Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home." (John 19: 25-27)
And so it was that while Paphnutius was commending this troubled young soul to the same care and mercy of God that is so evident throughout the Gospels, he noticed something unusual. He thought he saw signs of breathing. 'Wait. There it is again.' Then a leg moved. Then...he sat upright. Then......the liturgy ceased.
Br. Paphnutius took him by the hand, lead him toward the elder of their group and had the young man kneel down before him so that the brethren could lay their hands on his head as a gesture of compassion and restoration. Not a word was spoken until they depared the church. Then again, nothing could be said right then that was of any value anyway.
Paphnutius spent the rest of that day talking with the young man, sharing a meal with him and assuring himself that those inner struggles that had previously consumed the younger one were entirely converted. Thanks be to God.
It is now what we would know as 2:30 a.m. Paphnutius picks up the scroll he had set down earlier, unrolls it, and begins his nightly vigil: "Out of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord; Lord hear my voice." (Ps. 130:1)
The moral of (this part) of the story: It seems to me that these days there is an awful lot of fretting and confusion surrounding issues of personal identity. Are you gay, straight, transgendered, married, single, just plain confused? It doesn't really matter so much where you have come from as it does that you are here in this present moment. What it is you choose to do with this moment can make all the difference in the world, both for this life and the life to come. Our Lord Jesus Christ has said: "[B]ehold, the kingdom of God is within you." (Lk. 17:21) Do you believe this?
To be continued...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)