Some years ago when I was serving church in Hartford, Connecticut, the board of Deacons decided to research the question of whether to pray the Lord’s Prayer using “debts’, ‘trespasses’ or ‘sins’.

I am sure many of you are familiar with the issue: some congregations, when reciting the Lord’s Prayer say “… and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Others use the version that goes this way: “ … and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors”. Still other churches pray in this way: “ … and forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.”

It turns out that the members of the congregation were pretty evenly divided between “debtors” and “trespassers.”

I wonder about this congregation. By a show of hands, how many of you grew up praying “debts and debtors”? How many of you grew up praying “trespasses”? How many of you are most familiar with the version that uses “sins”?

In good congregational fashion, the deacons of the church in Connecticut looked into the matter. They found that there are two versions of the Lord’s Prayer in the New Testament … a shorter version in Matthew’s Gospel and longer version in Luke’s gospel. The two versions use different Greek words, for the words we translate as trespasses and debts.

They also learned that most, but not all Catholics, Episcopalians, Lutherans and Methodists use “trespasses,” while many, but by no means all Congregationalists, Baptists and Presbyterians use “debts.”

The Deacons held seminars on the question. They wrestled with what word or combination of words was both true to the original intent of Jesus who authored the prayer, and what word or words best conveyed that intention in contemporary language.

Finally, at the next Annual Meeting of Immanuel Congregational Church, the entire congregation voted on the three possibilities: debts, trespasses or sins.

The Deacons counted the votes. They handed the tabulations to me. And, I got to announce before the whole congregation that “sins” wins!

The church voted to pray the Lord’s Prayer using “sins” because, as one member put it, “it calls it like it is.”

The story we heard this morning is often thought of as a healing story. It is, in fact, a story about forgiveness of sins.

The friends of a man who is paralyzed hear that Jesus is at home in Capernaum. Determined to find him, they place their friend on a make-shift bed and take turns carrying him. They arrive at the home where Jesus is teaching. But Jesus has a kind of first century rock-star status. He is surrounded by adoring fans. Indeed, the crowds are so vast and thick, the friends see no way of entering the home. But the friends are not deterred.

Instead, they find another way. They climb the outside stairs that were typical of first century homes in Palestine. Flat roofs were often used as places of rest and quiet.

They climb onto the roof which consists of flat beams, about three feet apart, laid in parallel from wall to wall. The space between the beams is packed with brushwood and clay. The top is marled over. In other words, the roof is largely made of earth. The sun and rain have caused grass and weeds to cover it.

It is not difficult to dig into such a roof. And, while the damage would surprise everyone, not least the owner, such damage would not be hard to repair. The friends of the man who is paralyzed dig into the roof with their bare hands.

It must have been an amazing experience for those inside the house. One minute they are captivated by the teachings of Jesus. The next minute all eyes are turned upward as bits of dried clay and brush come crumbling into the home, pelting them on their heads, as dust fills the room. The crowd inside the home squeezes back, away from the area of the ceiling that is raining down on them.

In short order a large hole has appeared and those inside the house squint up into the sun. They see silhouettes of men who are now peering down at them. Using ropes and shouting orders to each other, the men on the roof begin to lower their friend. The paralyzed man descends from above and lands gently on the floor of the home. Everyone is blinking. Their stares move from the man to Jesus and back to the man. They are stunned by the assault on the roof; stunned by the resolve of the friends. Stunned, too, by the utter helplessness of the man who lies on his pallet at their feet.

Jesus doesn’t hesitate. He says to the man who is lying in the middle of the room, lying on the rubble from the roof, “Son, your sins are forgiven you.” This declaration comes surprisingly and suddenly.

We know from other New Testament stories that Jesus dismisses any causal connection between sin and infirmity. They have nothing to do with one another. The paralytic is not disabled because he is any more a sinner than anyone else. Rather, the logic of the story suggests the two have nothing to do with one anther. The healing in this story is almost an after thought.

In the world of Jesus – and, surely in our world – forgiveness is more important than healing. And, what’s more, it is the very nature of God to forgive. We are confronted with a God who forgives.

This is what Christians have come to know. And, like the crowd in that room, we still blink in disbelief at the truth of it. Forgiveness for humans is a hard thing to do. We nurse grudges … even when we know it is not good for us to do so.

That is why the members of Immanuel Congregational Church in Hartford voted to pray the Lord’s Prayer using “sins” … because it is our sins – the sins we commit and our sins of omission  – from which we so need relief.

In Greek, the word sin means something like this: missing the mark. It is about not being on target as human beings, being a little off our aim, not straight, not true. To be forgiven our sins is to be set right. It is to be back on track, on course.

 
 

This story about forgiveness and healing is a story that speaks clearly to me and to my husband, Peter, in these days. As many of you know, he is struggling with the latter stages of cancer. We have tried every which way to find healing. Like the friends of the paralytic, when we exhausted the usual remedies, we have, in our way, torn through roofs seeking help with this disease. Peter has been through the gamut of what the medical community has to offer. He has also endured experimental programs and used alternative medicines, diets, and therapies. We have been told that these have run their course.

I have, therefore asked for, and have been granted by the Church Council, a part-time compassionate leave from Old South. I will work when I can, as I can, but mostly behind the scenes, with staff and leaders. I will not be preaching or leading worship for a little while.

Peter and I both want to thank this amazing congregation for your care for us. For food and flowers and cards and prayers. For visits and books and offers of assistance, for the word hear and the hug there. And, now, we thank you for this opportunity of compassionate leave.

I need to be with Peter when he needs me. I need to care for him and love him. Years ago Peter and I vowed to stay together for better or worse, in sickness and in health, ‘til death us do part. We have arrived at that place in our marriage where “worse” and “sickness” have entered our lives. They are like menacing guests who have moved in without invitation. We cannot get rid of them. But we both know that we can meet them and face them together.

As we continue this journey together, we know that many of you have been or are on such journeys. You, too, bear burdens that are heavy and painful. At our best, the church becomes like those friends of the paralytic, bearing a bit of each other’s burdens. In so doing, you have been as Christ to each other. You have been as Christ to us.

God knows, Peter and I have sought healing for his cancer. God knows, we would do almost anything to get it. But we also know that in the end, we are all going to die. And so, what we crave now – what we know we need more than anything else – is what the paralytic was given by Jesus: is a sense of inner peace, the kind of wellness that can only be granted by God’s amazing forgiveness and grace.