“The healing of the paralytic at Capernaum” (Mark 2:1-12) and the memory of St. Gregory Palamas
The second, fourth, and fifth Sundays of Lent in the Orthodox Church have a dual dedication. On the one hand, they are dedicated to the theme of the Gospel reading of the Sunday liturgy, and on the other hand, they commemorate the patron saint of the Sunday to which that Sunday of Lent is dedicated. Over time, the memory of the saint has somewhat supplanted the subject of the reading. This is a very rare example of how popular piety, even under a completely pious pretext, can neglect the Scriptures. The Scriptures and the saints are inseparable. And if the people of God stop reading the Bible, the memory of the saints also disappears.
The patron saint of the second Sunday is Gregory Palamas (1296–1359). He was a noble Roman, as the citizens of the Byzantine Empire called themselves, then an ascetic, then a theologian, and finally the bishop of the great Greek metropolis of Thessaloniki, where his holy relics rest to this day. The name of Saint Gregory is inextricably linked with Mount Athos. It is associated with the revival of Orthodox theology in the twentieth century, specifically on French soil. At that time, many intellectual immigrants unexpectedly found themselves surrounded by the powerful philosophical and theological influence of Western Christianity. They chose Saint Gregory as the banner of their Orthodox identity. The relics of the Catholic saint Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) rest in the Jacobin monastery in the city of Toulouse. Gregory Palamas was seventy years younger than Thomas, and they had little in common. But it was precisely Gregory whom representatives of the Orthodox theological school and the Saint Sergius Institute in Paris chose as a kind of antipode to Saint Thomas. Asceticism, prayer, withdrawal from the world: Orthodoxy in the diaspora saw in Gregory's theology precisely these characteristics of Eastern Christianity. Saint Gregory was not a systematic thinker, he was a man of divine light, a preacher of contemplation. Thomas, on the other hand, was an architect of thought and a great systematizer. The memory of St. Gregory is linked to a new theological interpretation of the feast of the Transfiguration and is extremely valuable to the Orthodox. At least one of St. Gregory Palamas' commandments remained unfulfilled. One day, the Saint was captured and remained a prisoner for a long time. From this experience of captivity and communication with Muslims came his commandment to preach Christ to the Ottomans. For Orthodox Byzantines, preaching the Gospel to other peoples was considered a grave sin, which is why St. Gregory's commandment was not heeded.
Today's Gospel reading tells of a man whom his friends lowered through the roof of a house and placed before Jesus. In ancient archaic practices, which have survived to this day and are very rarely found in secular literature and popular culture, there is a belief that if a man is particularly evil, for example if he has practiced magic or committed many misdeeds, he cannot find rest and suffers for a long time. In this case, the windows and doors of the house had to be opened to facilitate his death. The dying sinner would then seek to make contact with a living person, trying to cling to them to “take their strength” and prolong his life. It turns out that Jesus should have either moved away from the man in front of him or literally let death strike him. But he forgave him his sin. This is where Jesus' astonishing prophetic and almighty foresight lies, and at the same time a denunciation of those around him. There is truly no sin that God, in Jesus Christ, cannot forgive. There is no good deed of the Lord Jesus and no grace of the Church that human wickedness cannot distort and pervert.
This story has a moral significance. Jesus is God made man, and in this story, he embodies the image of God. The people around him represent the Church, as a gathering of believers. The friends who carry the paralyzed man through the roof are us. We often abandon our loved ones, hoping that if circumstances, the image of the broken roof, do not, then the people around us, or ultimately God himself, will literally break our loved ones, abandon them, or condemn them. We place our loved ones in absurd circumstances and pretend that we did not do it. But God always comes to the aid of those who have been abandoned by men and grants them forgiveness and comfort that torments their detractors. “Brothers, examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith,” writes Paul in his Epistle to the Corinthians (2 Cor 13:5). During these days of Lent, let us check whether we have lost our faith and are following the path to perdition.