9:1–8 As usual, the account begins with a travel note: Jesus crosses the sea to return to Capernaum, his adopted city (v. 1). “And behold” prepares the reader for a dramatic event: “Some people brought to him a paralytic, lying on a bed” (v. 2). Luke reports that power is present for healing this day. A throng fills the house so that Jesus is inaccessible to the paralytic and his friends. But the friends show their faith, which Jesus commends, by tearing a hole in the roof and lowering the paralytic through it. As he is suspended there, Jesus addresses him. The man’s paralysis would be prominent as he lies on the stretcher, dangling from the roof, making Jesus’ comment, “Your sins are forgiven,” perplexing. Why would Jesus forgive him when he obviously seeks to be healed? The result is a polyvalent dramatic tension in Mark and Luke. In Matthew, all eyes are on Jesus. Mark and Luke show the faith of the paralytic and his friends, Matthew says that Jesus sees their faith, that of the paralytic and his friends. Jesus also speaks tenderly, “Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven” (v. 2). The term for sins (Gk. hamartia) is broad and plural. All is forgiven.145

Perhaps the paralytic is baffled, since he has come to be healed, but, “behold,” the scribes are irate and say to themselves, “This man is blaspheming” (v. 3). Jesus, adept at reading the language of faces and bodies, “sees”146 their thoughts and asks, “Why do you think evil in your hearts?” (v. 4). It certainly is evil to think that Jesus blasphemes, but why do they think it?

The scene assumes that Jesus and the paralytic have never previously met. If the paralytic personally has offended Jesus, and Jesus forgives him, nothing noteworthy has happened. But if they have met this day, there cannot be a personal offense. Then one must ask why Jesus forgives a stranger. How has the paralytic offended him? He could not have offended him if Jesus were an ordinary man. But God is offended by every sin. He alone can forgive the sins of every human (Isa. 43:25). Therefore, the scribes realize, when Jesus says, “Your sins are forgiven,” he implicitly claims deity. Of course, a priest in the temple can tell a stranger, “Your sins are forgiven.” But the location is Capernaum, Jesus is no priest, and the paralytic has brought no sacrifice for sin. So, since the scribes do not believe Jesus to be divine, they hear blasphemy.

Jesus replies to their question with a counterquestion, “Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’?” (Matt. 9:5). The answer is not obvious. Physically, both are easy to say. From a logical standpoint, it is easier to say “Your sins are forgiven,” since that cannot be falsified, whereas “Rise and walk” can be. Theologically however, it is easier to say “Rise and walk” than “Your sins are forgiven,” because the former claims healing power and the latter claims deity. Nonetheless, for Jesus both are easy, and he proves it: “But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”—he then says to the paralytic—”Rise, pick up your bed and go home.” And he rises and goes home (vv. 6–7).

Essentially, Jesus declares that he does claim deity, has forgiven the man’s sins and proven it by removing the illness that, the scribes likely thought, was a result of his sin (John 9). As the paralytic walks home(!), the story closes. The paralytic and his friends are satisfied and the scribes silenced.

Just as miracle scenes commonly begin with notes about travel, location, and the people on scene, so they often close with a reaction from the witnesses.147 Matthew says the crowds (1) are afraid and (2) glorify God who (2b) has given such authority to men. Within Matthew as a whole, this is positive but imperfect. To fear and glorify God is right, but the last phrase forces reconsideration. The miracle demonstrates Jesus’ deity, but the crowd calls Jesus a man with God-given authority. Historically speaking, one cannot expect the unlettered crowd to draw the right conclusion immediately. Yet from a literary-theological perspective, reading Matthew as a whole, the crowds and the scribes should have recognized Jesus’ deity, not just his authority. Sadly, the crowds never surpass their favorable-but-shallow disposition (Matt. 9:33–34; 27:15–23). And the culpable silence of the scribes, as religious leaders, will develop into doubt, hostility, and murder (12:38; 15:1–2; 20:18–19; 21:15–16; 27:41–43).