Homily 633 – 2GL
Holy Transfiguration, Ames, Iowa
March 16, 2025
Epistle:  (304) – Hebrews 1:10-2:3 and (318) – Hebrews 7:26-8:2
Gospel:  (7) – Mark 2:1-12 and (36) – John 10:9-16

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, one God.

The story of the paralytic being lowered through the roof to meet Christ is a unique story in the Gospel.  We can certainly say that this is the only time that we are aware of that someone cut a hole in a roof.

What I want to focus on is that this is the one of the times in the Gospels where Christ healed someone based on someone else’s faith.  There are a few of these – the Roman Centurion whose servant was ill, the mother with the ill daughter, the Ruler of the Synagogue’s daughter.  And this one.

Maybe there are others – I don’t intend this to be an exhaustive account.  But these occurrences did get me to wonder.

We talk a lot about the need for having faith if we want to be healed.  So many times we focus on Christ telling people “your faith has healed you.”  We think to ourselves, or maybe out loud, “If I only had more faith …”

Maybe then God would pay attention to me.  Maybe then God would ease my suffering.  Maybe then would God change my circumstances.

We somehow have gotten the idea that there is a certain quantity of faith that will change God’s mind, and cause God to act in a certain way.  Now intellectually maybe we recognize how that is really silly.  We know that God loves us, and loves us so much that Christ came and suffered and died for us, even in the midst of our own rebellion.

But in the midst of pain, of injustice, of illness, of poverty – it is particularly difficult to manifest faith in God.  When it feels like the world is out to get us, we tend to transfer the responsibility for that to God.  We may know that our feelings, our emotions, are betraying us, and are giving us false information.

And yet.  The feelings don’t change.  The feelings are immediate, right here, right now, and it is difficult.

Still, we have to understand that God loves us.  In the second Gospel passage from St. John, Christ calls Himself the Good Shepherd.  The thief, the evil one, comes to steal and kill and destroy – the Shepherd comes to provide life – abundant life, in fact.

If that weren’t enough, the Good Shepherd is a protector – He lays down His life for the sheep.  He doesn’t run away.  He isn’t a hired hand.  The Church reminds us of this every time we have Old Testament readings in commemoration of the Fathers of the Ecumenical Councils.  We read of Abraham going to rescue Lot, and how there were 318 of his family – his kindred, his people – who made that rescue.  Not hired hands, not mercenaries.

Same here – Christ is family.  Our bishops and fathers in Christ are our family.  In this Liturgy, we call out that we may dare to call You, the Heavenly God, “Father.”

Family.  They don’t desire to punish us, but to protect and save and love us.

We end up with this conflict.  A conflict born of our emotions fighting our intellect.  We are divided inside and maybe that is what hurts most of all.  We feel as if, and maybe we are, being split into two parts.

We are paralyzed.  But here is where today’s other reading comes into focus.  We ask our friends to take us to Christ.  Many of them do so without even our asking.  They see us in pain, and they take us to Christ.

They do this in prayer.  We do it here in the Divine Liturgy, taking those who are sick and suffering, hungry and homeless, in prison and confinement, we take them to Christ, just as these four friends did.

We don’t let little things like crowds get in our way.  We take our suffering friend, our suffering family member, to Christ.  We expect Christ to act in His love, and in His mercy.  We have the faith that our loved one, our friend, can’t because of their pain.  We have the faith on their behalf.

The saints also – all those who have gone before us, all of those who are around us – we have the faith to take people to Christ.

When we arrive there, with the hurting one, we only say a couple of things – Lord, take notice of your suffering servant.  Which, He already does, thankfully.  And two, Lord, have mercy on your suffering servant.

Then we leave the rest to God.  We do what we can to alleviate the suffering, if we are able.  The mental and emotional anguish is not ours, but sometimes we can and must endure that with them.  We try to alleviate their physical torment.

We stand before Christ, together with our suffering servant, and place all of us at His mercy and await His grace, in the full knowledge that what is offered by God will be given according to our faith – but our faith in God’s love and mercy.

What we will be given is for our salvation.  For our healing.  For our resurrection.

Don’t ever let anyone diminish the impact of praying for others.  Take your friends, your family, and yourself, and go before the Lord.  Beg his mercy.  If you can’t take yourself, ask one of your family to take you to Christ.  Ask them to go to Christ on your behalf, if you cannot go yourself.

Some may say that we are uncomfortable with the idea of telling our needs, our failures, our weaknesses to others.  That’s understandable, but that is a deception of our society.  It’s sad that we feel that way, because most people I know want to help others, particularly if they need help getting before Christ.

If you do feel this way, however, all is not lost.  Your priest, your confessor, is there to pray for you.  Your patron saint is there to pray for you.  Your guardian angel is there to pray for you.  The Birthgiver of God is there to pray for you.

And to pray for you is to take you and place you before Christ, with the faith that He loves us more than we know how to love, and wants nothing else but to heal us, and bring us close to Him.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, One God.  Glory to Jesus Christ.