“After they had broken through, they let down the mat on which the paralytic was lying.”

The image in today’s Gospel is unforgettable: four friends carrying a paralyzed man, blocked by a crowd, climbing onto a roof, breaking it open, and lowering their friend down to Jesus. It is a bold, messy, faith-filled act. They refuse to let obstacles decide the future of someone they love. When Jesus sees what they have done, the Gospel says, “He saw their faith.” Not just the paralytic’s faith—but the faith of the community that carried him. This scene invites us to reflect on the kind of faith that moves beyond comfort and convenience. Real faith is not passive. It does not wait politely in line when someone’s life is at stake. These friends could have said, “The place is too crowded,” or “We’ll try another day.” Instead, they became creative, courageous, and persistent. They literally broke through barriers to bring their friend into the presence of Christ. In the first reading, the people of Israel ask for a king “like other nations.” They want security, visibility, and control. But in doing so, they reject the deeper trust God invites. The contrast is striking: Israel seeks safety in human power; the friends of the paralytic place their trust entirely in Jesus. One group looks for authority to manage life. The other entrusts life itself to the mercy of God. And what does Jesus do? He goes straight to the heart: “Child, your sins are forgiven.” Before healing the body, he heals the soul. Jesus shows us that our deepest paralysis is not always physical. It can be fear, shame, resentment, guilt, or despair—things that keep us lying on our mat, unable to move forward. Christ sees beyond what others see. He restores dignity before he restores strength. Then comes the command: “Rise, pick up your mat, and go home.” The man not only walks—he carries the very thing that once carried him. His past no longer defines him. His weakness becomes his testimony. This Gospel challenges us with two questions. First: Whose mat am I being called to carry? Who in my life needs my faith, my persistence, my willingness to “break through” for them? Second: What mat am I still lying on? What fear, sin, or habit is keeping me from rising? The friends teach us that faith is something we do together. Sometimes others must carry us. Sometimes we must carry others. But always, the goal is the same: to bring one another closer to Jesus, no matter what stands in the way. May we be a people who break through roofs of doubt, indifference, and fear—and lower one another into the healing presence of Christ. And like the crowd that day, may we leave astonished, glorifying God, saying, “We have never seen anything like this.”