Surely that was a great moment when the wistful gaze of eyes which disease had dimmed, met the eyes which were as a flame of fire, and knew that all its sullied past was at once comprehended and forgiven.
Jesus said to him, “Son, thy sins are forgiven thee.” The term of endearment was new to his lips, and very emphatic; the same which Mary used when she found Him in the temple, the same as when He argued that even evil men give good gifts unto their children. Such a relation towards Himself He recognised in this afflicted penitent. On the other hand, the dry argumentative temper of the critics is well expressed by the short crackling unemotional utterances of their orthodoxy: “Why doth this man thus speak? He blasphemeth. Who can forgive sins but one, God.” There is no zeal in it, no passion for God’s honour, no spiritual insight, it is as heartless as a syllogism. And in what follows a fine contrast is implied between their perplexed orthodoxy, and Christ’s profound discernment. For as He had just read the sick man’s heart, so He “perceived in His spirit that they so reasoned within themselves.” And He asks them the searching question, “Whether is easier to say, Thy sins be forgiven thee, or to say, Arise and walk?” Now which is really easier? It is not enough to lay all the emphasis upon “to say,” as if with Jesus the ease of an utterance depended on the difficulty of testing it. There is indeed a certain irony in the question. They doubtless imagined that Jesus was evading their scrutiny by only bestowing what they could not test. To them forgiveness seemed more easily offered than a cure. To the Christian, it is less to heal disease, which is a mere consequence, than sin, which is the source of all our woes. To the power of Jesus they were alike, and connected with each other as the symptom and the true disease. In truth, all the compassion which blesses our daily life is a pledge of grace; and He Who healeth all our diseases forgiveth also all our iniquities. But since healing was the severer test in their reckoning, Jesus does not evade it. He restores the palsied man to health, that they might know that the Son of man hath authority on earth to forgive sins. So then, pardon does not lie concealed and doubtful in the councils of an unknown world, it is pronounced on earth. The Son of man, wearing our nature and touched with our infirmities, bestows it still, in the Scriptures, in the Sacraments, in the ministrations of His servants. Wherever He discerns faith, He responds with assurance of the absolution and remission of sins.
He claims to do this, as men had so lately observed that He both taught and worked miracles, “with authority.” We then saw that this word expressed the direct and personal mastery with which He wrought, and which the apostles never claimed for themselves.
Therefore this text cannot be quoted in defence of priestly absolutions, as long as these are hypothetical, and depend on the recipient’s earnestness, or on any supposition, any uncertainty whatever. Christ did not utter a hypothesis.
Fortunately, too, the argument that men, priestly men, must have authority on earth to forgive sins, because the Son of man has such authority, can be brought to an easy test. There is a passage elsewhere, which asserts His authority, and upon which the claim to share it can be tried. The words are, “The Father gave Him authority to execute judgment, because He is the Son of man,” and they are immediately followed by an announcement of the resurrection to judgment (John v. 27, 29). Is any one prepared to contend that such authority as that is vested in other sons of men? And if not that, why this?