We need to talk about sin today. We need to talk about it, because the Gospel we just heard makes very clear that Jesus deemed relief from sin to be the very best that he had to offer. The paralytic's friends wanted physical healing. Jesus was moved by their love for their friend and their faith that the effort of getting him to Jesus could help the paralytic. And so, Jesus began by giving the very best he had to offer-"Your sins are forgiven."
We don't talk about sin much in church any more. It has fallen a bit out of fashion, because the old talk of sin was all too often tied to images of a judging and vengeful God. We want everyone to know that the God we proclaim is the same God Isaiah knew, a God who does not take pleasure in judging, but rather takes pleasure in forgetting our offenses: "I am He who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins."
So why do we need to talk about sin? As I speak with more and more people about what weighs heavily on their hearts, I find a recurring theme. We may know that God forgives easily, but oftentimes we cannot easily forgive ourselves. Many if not most of us have an inner sadness about something we did or didn't do, perhaps long ago. It keeps us laying on our mats like the paralytic, at least in a figurative way. It keeps our spirits from dancing into God's arms with utter glee. It may be one big thing. It may be a recurring experience over little gaffs and stumbles.
If you have been watching the Winter Olympics, then you know the sad tale of Lindsey Jacobellis. She was far ahead of her only competitor in the Snowboardcross when, in a split second, she decided to grab her board in a show of excitement over her victory. The only problem was that the move caused her to lose balance. There was no victory; she fell, and her competitor passed her. The silver medal became a possible source of sadness. We have all made those split second decisions that turn out to be bad decisions. It is hard not to condemn ourselves, when the consequences sometimes linger for years. Lindsey only caused harm to herself. Some of our bad decisions cause harm to others. At least most of us haven't had our judgment error played and replayed on all the networks across the world for 48 hours!!
If you hang around 12-step meetings, you will often hear speakers say, after recounting many wrong turns and broken noses, that they regret nothing of what has happened in the past, because the past brought them where they are today, and today is such a cause for thanksgiving that the road leading to it must be embraced. This has to be the attitude we want to make our own. It has to be the complete relief from sin that Jesus wanted and wants for all of us who lay on our mats when we could be dancing. But how do we make it our own?
Have you ever paid much attention to the special prayer for each day that is toward the beginning of the service, called The Collect of the Day? It is supposed to prepare us for the readings by featuring a theme that runs throughout them. It poises us through prayer to grasp that theme. When I first looked at the collect for this Sunday, I couldn't see how it connects with our readings. In it, we prayed that charity or love might infuse all we do. That is a wonderful theme, but I couldn't figure out how it might help us to forgive ourselves. Then a recent experience instructed me. I was with a parishioner in hospice care and the nurse was showing us how to change his morphine patch. You need to remove a thin cover from one side of the patch that releases the medicine and then attach it to the patient's skin. The nurse said rather emphatically, "And if you are helping, make sure you don't touch the 'live' side of the patch, the side that releases morphine. If you do, you will medicate yourself, because it enters the pours of the skin very easily. That's why it gives relief."
It occurred to me that love is a lot like that pain medicine. When we are extending it to others, truly seeing others with God's eyes of grace, we can't help but get some of that love and grace all over ourselves. It seeps through our pours and eases the pain we have caused ourselves. Ask anyone who volunteered earlier this month for Family Promise, and I think they will tell you: They left their work with a feeling of warmth about life in general. Think about how you feel when you grant a kindness to someone in your life who may not have "earned" it, someone who hasn't necessarily dispensed kindness. It warms the heart like nothing else can. When loving-kindness warms the heart, there just is no place for the chill of self-loathing to take hold. I suspect in both these cases, some love seeps through our pours and eases the pain of our self-condemnation. The authors of the collect knew what they were talking about. A friend of mine is fond of saying, "Whatever the question might be, love is the answer." That is ringing true. The love our prayer invited is our cure. Love doesn't travel a straight line. Once it's out, it gets all over us! It seeps through our pours and touches us with relief, just as it gives relief to others.
The paralytic took up his mat and walked. Let's not settle for walking. Let's aim for dancing. "O Lord, . send your Holy Spirit and pour into our hearts your greatest gift, which is love," pour in enough for both others and ourselves.