I cannot describe adequately the frenzied activity surrounding this outpouring. While Jesus spoke, people were appearing in waves, some exposing a deformed limb which Jesus would appear to refashion with gentle strokes of his powerful hands, some with scales on their eyes, which he would wipe away with his fingertips, some with suppurations which he would bathe clear, some just trying to kiss the hem of his robe, or to touch his hand, or his hair.
I remember one incident, which seemed to typify the whole atmosphere, an incident which, perhaps, had far-reaching consequences.
We were in the house of a tax-gatherer, Matthew by name. How came we there? In the town, earlier in the day, we had come by this Matthew, seated, collecting taxes. As Jesus approached the table, Matthew looked up and said-
“Well Rabbi, what tithe will you give me of all your land and estates?”
“I will give you free passage to the Kingdom of Heaven, if you will receive it”.
“I think- I hope I am not yet of an age to undertake such a journey”.
“Then I give you my peace”.
“Peace?” retorted Matthew. “Peace, a tax collector finds only at home”. By now, having handed his satchel to the waiting soldiers, he picked up his scrolls and rose, having finished for the day.
“Home, is it? Then follow me”, said Jesus, who promptly led us all to Matthew’s house. I learned later that Matthew had heard the talk of the new miracle worker, and so had easily identified Jesus, who on the contrary, had no knowledge of, or dealings with Matthew.
That afternoon we were crowded in the outer room of Matthew’s house, having eaten a hasty meal provided by Matthew’s woman, and were now pressed on all sides by some three or four score people. It was physically impossible for anyone else to enter the room. The crowd was wedged in the door, and pressing rank on rank, in the courtyard without, in vain attempt to hear Jesus’ voice. The daylight was dim through the small aperture high in the north wall; the air was hot, dry, thick and heavy.
Suddenly, Jesus’ voice was interrupted by a rattling from the flat roof, above. We looked up, as dust and crumbs of dried clay started to fall. This quickly developed into a considerable falling of larger pieces- in quantity, together with shreds of palm leaf binding, as the rattling increased to banging, chopping and tearing. There were men on the roof breaking out a hole, long and narrow, between the joists. Then even one of the joists was wrenched out, and so the hole instantly doubled in width, but to what purpose? We soon learned the answer, when they hoisted over what appeared to be a palliasse, which they then lowered through the hole, by means of ropes.
We had no choice but to guide it down to the floor, and we saw that it bore a man- of uncertain age because he was much wasted away, in paralysis. Jesus bent over him as he tried to speak, but was quieted by the touch of Jesus fingers on his lips.
Jesus looked up at the ring of anxious faces peering through the hole, above, smiled reassuringly, and then with the same smile, he looked down at the paralytic and spoke to him-
“My son, your sins are forgiven”.
The man did not stir, but a look of comprehension crossed his face, and my heart went out to him. I knew that, in that moment, he saw and understood the unbearable, heartbreaking compassion, which flowed from this Holy One. The moment did not last, however, for there were gasps of self-righteous indignation from a small group of Pharisees in the room. Jesus looked up at them and upbraided them with-
“I know your thoughts! You think my words blasphemous! Then which is easier, to say- ‘your sins are forgiven’ or to say ‘take up your bed and walk’? But to illustrate by living proof, the extent and power of the Son of Man’s authority...” and here he smiled again at the paralytic, saying- “Rise. Take up your bed, and go home”.
Immediately, the man got up and did as he was bidden. As he pressed through the crowd-packed doorway, the noise, which had already been quite an assault on the ears- now grew to a deafening roar of people praising Jesus, praising God. In all the uproar, I saw one of the Pharisees determinedly elbowing and clawing his way to Jesus side. When he eventually got close enough to be heard, he asked, mockingly-
“If you have such authority, if you are such an especial instrument of the living Lord, what are you doing in the house of a tax collector- a sinner?”
Jesus paused with a frown, looking hardly at his questioner, more through him, as though he were remembering a hurt from the past, then the shadow was gone from his face, and smiling, he took the man by the arm, and speaking close to his ear, because the tumult still rang about them, yet still managing a kindness of voice-
“Those clean in body and spirit have no need of a physician. If I am to forgive sins, where else should I look? There are no sins in the synagogue, are there?”
The man’s face showed clearly that the bolt had struck home, and he re-joined his friends who, after a brief exchange, all left.