NRS Mark 2:1
When he returned to Capernaum after some days, it was reported that he was at home.
2 So many gathered around that there was no longer room for them, not even in front of the door; and he was speaking the word to them. 3 Then some people came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. 4 And when they could not bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him; and after having dug through it, they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay. 5 When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, "Son, your sins are forgiven." 6 Now some of the scribes were sitting there, questioning in their hearts, 7 "Why does this fellow speak in this way? It is blasphemy! Who can forgive sins but God alone?" 8 At once Jesus perceived in his spirit that they were discussing these questions among themselves; and he said to them, "Why do you raise such questions in your hearts? 9 Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Stand up and take your mat and walk'? 10 But so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins"-- he said to the paralytic-- 11 "I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go to your home."

I got very emotional at my seminary graduation. About half-way through the ceremony I found tears running down my face, and by the end of the thing I was pretty much a basket case, which kind of surprised me. I certainly wasn't was sad to be leaving seminary. At that point, I was more than ready to go, and even though I didn't have a call waiting for me, like some of my colleagues, I was still hopeful that something would come through, soon. But I think what really got me was remembering all that we'd been through in the previous four years.

Carolyn and I had only been married two weeks when we loaded all our worldly possessions into the back of rental truck to move to Luther Seminary, sight unseen. I'd never been north of St. Louis, and I'd only seen snow maybe four or five times in my life, so St. Paul, Minnesota, was kind of a leap for us. What's more, I'd only been a Lutheran, officially, for about two months, and while I had a pretty good handle on Lutheran history and theology, I wasn't very attuned to Lutheran church culture, especially of the Norwegian variety which was, at that time, so prevalent at Luther Seminary. During a "Sem Wives" meeting, we were broken up into small groups to discuss whether it was acceptable for the pastor to keep sherry in the parsonage cupboard. I thought it was a joke, so I joked back, "Well, as long as you don't keep Sherry tied up in the parsonage basement, I suppose the cupboard ain't so bad." Nobody laughed, but an upperclassman kind of looked down his nose at me and said, ominously, "You'll learn."

Obviously, I hadn't gone to a Lutheran college, and apparently, I didn't know the secret Lutheran handshake. When I said I was from Louisiana, some people automatically assumed I was a racist, and when I spoke up in class, other people would occasionally remark that I didn't sound Southern, that is, ignorant. For the first couple of years Carolyn was loath to answer the phone, because whoever was on the other end would invariably ask, "You're not from around here, are you?" Don't get me wrong. People were very kind to us, and we made some great friends. What we were going through was just a mild case of your typical, run of the mill culture shock, but for us little chickens up in the great white North, it could get kind of lonely.

On the other hand, I fell head over heels in love with theology. My teachers were some of the most brilliant and godly men I had or would ever meet in my life (and at that time they were all men.) They threw open the doors to the Christian treasury of wisdom, insight, and scholarship in a way that filled me with "wonder, love, and praise." Given my background and upbringing, I went to seminary knowing next to nothing about the Bible, but suddenly I found myself immersed in a Word that defined not just dogmas and doctrines, but a whole worldview. I discovered Christianity as more than just a beautiful, mountaintop castle that I could look on from afar, but now for me the faith was a space where I could live in hope and act in the assurance of forgiveness. But theology is not just something you study; it's something you do. It becomes its own spiritual discipline, in which you analyze not just what other people say and believe, but you put your own faith and life under the microscope. When you really do theology, you have to examine not only the formulations of your brain, but also the disposition of your heart. You have to look inside, and as I looked at my own poor, weak, fragile self, I had to wonder:
Who was I to take the Word of God into my mouth?
Who was I to break the bread and bless the cup?
Who was I to speak for Christ?

So there I was at my seminary graduation, getting all emotional and starting to cry, because it just then dawned on me how I had come to that spot in my life. I had been carried. Yes, I had made choices, and yes, I had stuck it out, and yes, I had written papers, completed assignments, and been examined by the faculty. But mainly, I had been carried there, like the man in tonight's gospel. I had been carried by Carolyn, who more than anybody loved me through seminary. I had been carried by those great teachers of mine, who saw in me, for all my rough edges, a possibility to which I was mosly blind. I had been carried by all sorts of people whose names I couldn't remember or faces place, but who prayed for me, lifted me up to God, and pled God's mercy on my pitiful soul. I had been carried.

In tonight's gospel story, the paralyzed man obviously could not bring himself to Jesus. But maybe it was not just his body that was paralyzed. Maybe it was his heart and soul, too. Maybe he just couldn't believe enough to trust his life and limbs to an itinerant preacher from Galilee. Maybe he'd given up hope. Maybe he was resigned to living out the rest of his life on a pallet, waiting to die. So he had to be carried.

I'd call that a pretty good Christmas gift.

In the Name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.