Then, he returned to the house
where he stayed in Capernaum
there beside the Lake.

The Word spread like the wind;
Jesus is home!
Jesus is here in Capernaum.

What would that be like, I wonder.
What if the Word, "Jesus is here,"
spread like the wind
through our neighborhoods?

"Jesus is at home at Saint James;"
and, what if we really believed it?
I mean, in the flesh and spirit
and all his healing power,
Jesus is here!
What would we do?

Well, I suppose that if we really believed it;
If he were sitting right here
at the Holy Table now;
There would be a traffic jam for miles,
I hope.

People would be crowded in here, dangerously.
People would be perched
on the tension bars, overhead.
The doors would be propped open
and the crowd would be pressing toward them
yearning for a view,
perhaps hoping to touch
or be touched
by Jesus.

Why, do you suppose this might be so?
What would they have;
what would we have, to gain?

There would be some people, perhaps
who couldn't get here on their own;

and, knowing this faith community as I do,
many of you would be heading off
to bring those folks here
to bring them home, here, to this place.

Perhaps one of us
who is crippled
would be carried here by friends.

They would have to park their car
half way to Hereford
and carry their beloved, perhaps you,
all this way.

"May we please get through?"
they would ask when they arrived.
"This person needs to see, perhaps to be touched
by Jesus."

The crowds around the doors
might be pressed in tightly, however;
and, thereby, unable to move.

So, perhaps, those friends
would carry their beloved
around to the east wall of the bell tower.

Perhaps they would get my ladder
from the Rectory Barn
and carry that person up
and into the 2nd floor window of the tower.

Perhaps they would struggle
into the space above the ceiling
and along the cat walk, over the crossing
and across the transept,
through the organ passages,
and lower you down the hatch
into the sacristy;
then, lift you over the heads of the choir
and so to the feet of Jesus.

And, what would Jesus say
to that person, do you suppose?

From what I know of Jesus
in today's Gospel reading and elsewhere,
he would say what the beloved crippled one
or what you
would most need to hear.

"Never fear, beloved of my Father,
for your sin is forgiven."

Now, I don't mean to diminish
the handicaps many of God's beloved suffer.

I know that sometime the handicap itself
renders a person diminished in humanity;

but, not often so,
and Jesus has a special place in his heart
and in God's heaven
for those few.

For most of us, however,
our disfigurement, our disability,
comes from the de-humanizing forces
of spiritual inadequacy and failure.

For most of us
our physical limitations and decline
our discomfort or pain
even our fear of that
which they might portend

pale before the hurt and emptiness
of failure of relationship,
and alienation from the true human type
we would like to be.

They pale before the guilt
at what we could have done
but did not;
and the tears at our inability
to change ourselves,
much less the world,
into the likeness of God.

Most of us, most of the time,
prefer not to look too deeply
behind the image in the mirror.
We grieve, guiltily
at what we might have been;
and cruelly invest in our children
the dreams we once had,
often dreams which should never be.

I have shared with you
from time to time
my own pain;

Not the pain of my knees or hips or ankles
nor the partial loss of vision
not the unexplained numbness
here and there.

All those things
are merely the price
of living another day
with all the hope and possibilities
that might bring.

No, the pain I share most often
is the pain of ineffectiveness
and disconnectedness;
the pain of looking
at what our country is doing in the world
and not understanding;
the pain of saying good-by
to a congregation of the faithful
who are my only friends in the world
and who have been our companions
on a long journey.

The things of spirit
are the sources of the on-going agony
of humankind.

My dad lay dying.
The nurse, thru her own tears
said that he was gone.
I entered the room,
held his hand and said,
'Dad, I'm here."
He smiled. It was all right;
and he drifted away.

What is it
that makes it all right?

In the Gospel Reading today
Jesus came home,
and the Word spread like the wind.

People filled the room
and crowded around the doors of the house.

Some people, having heard the Word,
arrived outside,
carrying a person who had been lame since birth.
They struggled to get to the door, but could not.

They then lifted their beloved
up onto the roof,
and, moving aside the thatch,
lowered him down to the feet of Jesus.

Jesus knew what was needed,
and also wanted those who where there
to know what is needed.

"Your sin is forgiven," he said to the man born lame.
Everything that stands
between you and your God
is swept away.
Every spiritual disability, every guilty moment,
every failure of vision
is past and forgotten, he said.

Some in the crowd were furious,
for in Jewish expectation
only God can forgive sin.

So, they were on the verge
of accusing Jesus of blasphemy,
that is, pretending to be God.
It was a capital crime, punishable by death.

In that day, as well as our own,
people did not really expect
to see God
at work among his people.

Jesus heard their murmuring
and said,
"Tell me, is it easier to say,
'your sin is forgiven' to this lame person,
or is it easier to say,
"arise and walk'?"

The second is instantly verifiable, you see.

Then, Jesus said,
So that you will know who I am
and the authority I have over the first,
I do the second.

"Arise, take your mat, and walk home,"
said Jesus.

And, the lame man,
the one unable to walk since birth,
at the Word of Jesus,
did just that, to the glory of God.

The by-standers were amazed,
for they had never seen the like.

In Jewish folk religion
physical disability and illness
were thought to be signs of sin
and God's disfavor.

We immediately discount that, intellectually;
but then, in the next breath
ask ourselves,
"Why am I this way?"
"What did I do to deserve this?"

Even for us,
things of the spirit pervade our whole being.

Perhaps, for you,
Jesus has been away for a time.

Perhaps, he is away no more.

What Word can address the spiritual torpor
that disables us?
What burden would we like to lay down
when we say the Confession?
What is the true humanity
to which we aspire in the prayers?
What wealth is it we would gladly seek in exchange
for our money offering today?
What food for the journey
is provided for us in the Holy Eucharist?
What mission on God's behalf
awaits us at the dismissal
as we, "Go forth to love and serve the Lord?"

And, what barriers remain
that keep us from the healing and Godly service
for which we long?

Perhaps, this faith community
will pick you up
and carry you along with it.

Perhaps the people and stories
the programs and liturgies of this place
will lift you over every hurtle
and make you whole;

And, perhaps, more and more,
we will
as a community of Christ
seek and find
the lost and the lame of our villages
bring them here, lift them up,
and deliver them to the feet
of the Christ of God.

Why not?
The Word is in the wind!

Jesus is here;
Do you not perceive it?