JESUS HEALS A PARALYTIC
A PHARISEE
I'm glad today's over. It's been a most unsatisfactory day.
It started well enough. There was a rumour abroad that Jesus of Nazareth was plying his trade in Capernaum.
They're ten a shekel round here these self-professed Messiahs who think they've got some special relationship with God. Mostly they don't bother us much. But this Jesus, he's been more trouble than the rest put together.
He's been setting himself up as the people’s champion. They're just poor ignorant fools swayed by the odd fine speech here, the odd magic trick there. He'd have them break every rule in the book and call it progress.
He'd got to be stopped, simple as that. So word was sent around the whole area and a group of us Pharisees, from all over Galilee, from Judea and even Jerusalem itself, converged on Capernaum.
We soon found where he was, he always attracted a crowd. There was precious little space but we managed to force our way into the house, it’s amazing what a stern word and a sharp elbow will do. We got right to the front. There was a big enough group of us to completely block him off from the crowd. I felt quite proud, it was as if we were protecting them somehow. We were so superior to him in every way, the crowd couldn't help but notice what an imposter he was. And we were in a prime spot to watch his every move - he'd trip himself up eventually and then we'd have him.
I was so busy watching his every move and noting every word I didn't at first realise what was happening above me. Then I realised that everyone else was staring at the ceiling where a hole had appeared. I was closest to it and my newly laundered robes were covered in dust. What an indignity!
As we watched, the hole got bigger and bigger and soon the reason became clear. Some scoundrels, who presumably couldn't get into the house or near to Jesus because of all the people, had done no more than make a hole in the roof and lower a friend through on a bed right in front of him.
And Jesus looked at this man who seemed to be crippled and said, “Friend, your sins are forgiven.” I could hardly believe my ears – he was even more of a fool than I thought – he'd condemned himself out of his own mouth. That's blasphemy, I thought, does he claim to be God and able to forgive sins?
He looked straight at me and just for a moment I thought he could read my mind. “Why are you thinking these things in your heart?” he said, “Which is easier: to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up and walk’?”
Before I could answer (this is the arrogance of the man) he said, “I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” So he said to the cripple, “Get up, take your bed and go home.”
Well of course he did, he leapt up so fast he nearly knocked me over. He'd obviously been fit and well all along. It was a hoax, an elaborate one I'll grant you, but a hoax nevertheless.
I looked around and I realised that victory had been snatched from our grasp. We had Jesus of Nazareth cornered, he'd condemned himself out of his own mouth and just when we thought we'd got him he'd turned the tables.
The crowd, totally taken in by the sham healing, were praising and worshipping God and jabbering on about the remarkable things they'd seen and we couldn't lay a finger on him without starting a riot.
I guess I'll just have to dust myself down and wait for another opportunity.