YOU KNOW THE SAYING: “A friend in need is a friend indeed.” Other, similar sayings go back to ancient times. But while it’s easy to take for granted that we know what the proverb means, its exact interpretation has been debated. The first question is, who has the need? Is the “friend in need” a friend who has a need, or someone who is a friend to you when you have a need? And second, is the last word supposed to be one word or two? Is it “indeed” or “in deed”? Or is it wordplay, so that we’re supposed to think of both?

I know: picky, picky, picky. There’s no way, of course, to settle such debates with any certainty, so let me just put forward my own way of reading the proverb. It’s good to know who your true friends are. And how you know is by the way they act toward you in your hour of need.

Such are the four friends Luke describes in the next healing story. Jesus was teaching in a house somewhere in Capernaum. Some have guessed that it may have Peter’s house, but nothing in the gospels tells us this. Here’s what happened as Jesus was teaching:

Some men came carrying a paralyzed man on a mat and tried to take him into the house to lay him before Jesus. When they could not find a way to do this because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and lowered him on his mat through the tiles into the middle of the crowd, right in front of Jesus. (Luke 5:18-19, NIV)

If you think about it, it’s a curious scenario. Mark, remember, tells us that the crowd was large; the house was packed and even the door was blocked so that no one could get in.

A group of men arrived, carrying a friend of theirs on a mat, because he was unable to walk on his own. The fact that there were four friends is given to us by Mark but not Luke; we should probably envision each of them carrying a corner of the mat. Luke doesn’t tell us how long the man had been in this condition, nor whether the infirmity had made him an object of scorn. One imagines that people, including the man himself, took for granted that he would always be this way.

But if this man and his friends were residents of Capernaum—or even a nearby town!—they surely would have heard about the many healings Jesus had performed there. The friends didn’t just hope against hope, on the off chance that Jesus might be able to do something for the paralytic. Quite the contrary: their behavior suggests that they knew Jesus could heal him. All they had to do was get to him.

I imagine them being surprised and dismayed at what they found when they arrived. The crowd was thick and straining to hear every word Jesus spoke. No doubt they tried to get through the crowd, but others weren’t about to give up their own spot and already knew there was no room inside anyway.

Not taking no for an answer, the friends took the paralytic up to the roof, probably by means of an outdoor stairway. Mark says that they dug a hole in the roof to lower their friend down to Jesus (Mark 2:4). The roofs of homes in that time and place were flat. Rough timbers were set into the tops of stone walls, then covered with mats woven of branches or reeds. These in turn were plastered with thick layers of mud mixed with straw. What Mark seems to be describing is the friends digging between the timbers, through the mud and woven mats.

But Luke merely says that the friends lowered the man “through the tiles.” The word Luke uses suggests something made of baked clay, like a roof tile; this is the only time the word is used in the entire New Testament. Does this contradict Mark’s account? Roof tiles were used in Greco-Roman architecture…but in Galilee?

A number of solutions have been proposed. For example, Luke may have adapted his language to a Gentile audience, people who would have been more familiar with earthenware roof tiles than the thatched roofs of Galilean homes. In that way, the phrase “through the tiles” might simply have been understood by Luke’s readers as “through the roof.” Or perhaps, given the broader influence of Greco-Roman culture throughout the empire, roof tiles were used in some way, even if there’s no archaeological evidence for this. If so, that would suggest Luke’s care in adding a small detail that Mark leaves out.

What matters for Luke’s narrative, however, is that the actions of the four men showed the lengths they were willing to go to for the sake of their friend. And just as importantly, it shows their faith. They would not have dug through the roof to get to Jesus unless they were certain that Jesus could heal their friend.

It’s amusing, I think, to picture being in the room below. Jesus is teaching and people are hanging on every word. Some are wanting to learn from what he says, while others like the scribes and Pharisees are mentally criticizing everything they hear.

Then, suddenly, the sound of banging and scraping can be heard coming from above. Jesus might try to continue teaching through the increasing noise, but at some point, the people would be completely distracted and unable to pay attention—especially when debris started falling from the ceiling. The people beneath backed away, pressing into those behind them in an already crowded room.

I imagine Jesus already knowing what was going on and watching with bemusement as a small hole appeared in the ceiling and grew larger and larger. Then, jerkily, a little at a time, the paralytic was lowered through the hole until he lay suspended, still swaying gently, right in front of Jesus.

No more banging, no more noise. A hush fell as people waited to see what Jesus would do or say. We know something of what the friends were expecting, and chances are, many in the crowd thought the same.

But as we’ll see, Jesus began by saying something no one expected.