Imagine what it might have been like, back in Jesus’ day, to be a leper. Leprosy is basically just a bacterial skin infection, and nowadays it can be treated quite easily. But not back then. Back in those days it was incurable. And it was the most feared disease imaginable. First of all, it was pretty ugly. In the early stages, a principal symptom is just a few numb patches of light-colored skin. But as it progresses, ridges and folds of skin might form on your face - sort of like the Elephant Man, if you ever saw that movie. Your nose might collapse. Your ears might rot away. Because you can’t feel anything on the numb parts, you don’t notice burns or cuts and they may get infected. You might go blind. Leprosy is a slow-acting disease, though, and all this might take quite a while. With proper care and treatment, you could probably live a pretty normal life for a long time.
But that didn’t happen. To a first-century Jew, having leprosy was even worse than ugly and disgusting and incurable. It was proof that you were the vilest kind of sinner. God must be punishing you for something really bad. There were elaborate instructions in Scriptures for diagnosing the disease, and once you were identified as a leper there was no appeal.
"The priest shall examine him; if ... he is leprous, he is unclean. The priest shall pronounce him unclean; the disease is on his head. The person who has the leprous disease shall wear torn clothes and let the hair of his head be disheveled; and he shall cover his upper lip and cry out, ‘Unclean, unclean.’ He shall remain unclean as long as he has the disease; he is unclean. He shall live alone; his dwelling shall be outside the camp." [Lev 13:43-46]
It was better to be dead than to be a leper. It was a life-time sentence of poverty and exile. You may remember in the old movie Ben Hur – I don’t know if the new version has it - how when his mother and sister contracted leprosy they went to live in a secluded valley with other lepers; they didn’t want him even to know they were alive. In Europe during the Middle Ages people with leprosy were declared dead and were banished after witnessing their own funeral and symbolic burial. Think for a moment what it must have been like to be pushed outside the community. Shunned, isolated, humiliated. What would it be like to never be touched? Never. To see little children run away at the sight of you. No hugs, no kisses, no hand-shakes, no quick smile at an unexpected meeting with a friend, because the only friendships you had were others like you, who - every time you looked at them reminded you of the horror of your own condition. And because the disease progresses so slowly, and is rarely fatal, you couldn’t even hope for a quick death.
How would you feel, if you lived back then and were diagnosed with leprosy? At some point - after you were done with the shock and the denial, the tears and farewells, whether you went off to live in a leper colony or begged along the roadside, you’d have a lot of time to brood. You would really have to do some serious thinking about your life - and in strongly religious societies like first century Jewish Palestine or tenth century Catholic Europe, you would struggle with God, with the meaning of life, with sin and repentance and all the other questions that we have so little time for in our fast-moving world. There would be anger, and despair, perhaps thoughts of suicide. I imagine many of them bargained with God, hoping either for a mis-diagnosis or a miraculous remission or even a quick death. How many lepers, do you suppose, told God that if, he would only heal them, they’d dedicate their lives to charity, or go on a pilgrimage, or make some kind of spectacular offering - perhaps endow a synagogue?
Times of crisis often turn us to a renewed awareness of God. At the saying goes, there are no atheists in foxholes. But how long does it last? If, as time goes on, the fear and tension do not let up, if your faith is not deeply rooted, it is likely to turn to anger at God or total rejection of him. What do we know, if anything, about the faith of these ten lepers?
On that sunny spring day 2000 years ago, ten lepers, ten dying, decaying, stinking wretches met Jesus and cried, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.” [v.13] Maybe they wanted alms, maybe they needed food. It’s even possible they knew that Jesus was a healer - after all, his reputation had spread pretty far and wide - and were reaching out in faith, believing that Jesus would heal them, as he had so many others. Whatever their motivation, they knew their place. They cried out for mercy, but they didn’t dare come near.
Jesus' answer is a little surprising, given his track record with other healings. He doesn’t ask if they want to be healed, he doesn’t inquire after their belief. He doesn’t touch them, or make mud with dirt and spit and rub it onto their skin. All he did was say, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” [v. 14] He’s basically just telling them to do what the law required when a leper thought he might have been cleansed - even before they had received any evidence that it would happen. Now, it was certainly possible for leprosy to go into remission, and the truth is that many who were called lepers probably had some other kind of temporary skin condition, perhaps eczema or psoriasis. So it wasn’t unheard of for a leper to go to a priest and request a re-evaluation. After an elaborate examination, including a period of quarantine, the priest could declare him clean and return him to his home. It’s almost as though Jesus is saying, “Don’t bother me, go through channels.”
But the really surprising thing here is that all ten of the lepers did exactly what Jesus told them to do. They didn’t say, “Been there, done that, doesn’t work.” or “We can’t go until we’ve been healed.” They just - went. And, while they were busy obeying, all ten were healed. This aspect of the text is often the topic preached upon: healing comes as we obey Jesus. And it’s a good message. But I don’t think it’s the central one.
I want you to try to imagine what it must have been like for them, leaning on their crutches, wrapped in bandages, limping and hobbling down the road, and on their way - one after another discovers, “Look! I’m clean! The sores are gone!” One touches his face in wonder, and he has a nose again. Another unwraps the bandages from his eyes and can see. Another holds out his hands and sees the skin smooth, the fingers straight. They start to walk a little faster, maybe breaking into a run, perhaps tearing off their bandages or throwing down their crutches, giddy with the thought of passing the test and being allowed to go back to their families.
But there is one, one out of the ten, who stops in his tracks. He lifts up his arms and whirls back toward where he had just been, “praising God with a loud voice.” [v. 15] The others ignore him, intent on their miraculous deliverance and their return. But he runs back. And even that was not enough to express his feelings. He threw “himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him.” [v. 16a]
Why? What made this man different? All we know about him is that “He was a Samaritan.” [v. 16b] Does that explain why he came back, when the rest didn’t? I think it has a lot to do with it. For one thing, the priests the other nine were heading off to see would probably have refused to have anything to do with him. Good Jews had nothing to do with Samaritans. The only thing that had made this man acceptable to the other nine was their common misery.
And remember - the disciples didn’t much like Samaritans, either. I can image them standing by watching all this, thinking, “What is he doing sucking up to the Master like that? Doesn’t he realize the only reason he was healed was because he hung around with Jews? Does he have to get so emotional? Consider yourself lucky and go back to your kennel, dog!”
But none of that seems to have mattered to the Samaritan. He’s been healed, and he doesn’t care what others may think, his sentence of banishment and death has been lifted and he came to praise and thank the one who lifted the curse.
But the point of the story isn’t really about the one at all, it’s about the nine. Having received the gratitude of the Samaritan leper, Jesus turns to him and asks, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” [v. 17-18]
Now Jesus’ words weren’t meant to make the Samaritan feel bad. I don’t think anything could have made him feel bad on that particular day! Jesus is speaking for the benefit of the disciples - and whatever other Jews may have been standing around. “This Samaritan, this despised foreigner comes back to praise God, and the children of Abraham, the children of the covenant do not? Is there something wrong with this picture, guys?”
There’s a story that a lot of you may have heard - I ran across it in a number of different places while I was preparing this sermon. But it’s too good to leave out. One day a woman was rushing home from a doctor’s appointment. The doctor had been somewhat delayed at the hospital, and the lab work took a little longer than usual so by the time she left the clinic she was running quite a bit behind schedule. She still had to pick up her prescription, pick up the children from the baby-sitter, and get home and make supper, all in time to make it to the prayer meeting at her church that evening. As she began to circle the busy Wal-Mart parking lot, looking for a space, the windows of heaven were opened, as it says in Genesis, and a downpour began. While she wasn’t usually the type to bother God with small problems, she began to pray as she turned down the row closest to the front door. “Lord, you know what kind of a day I’ve had, and there’s still an awful lot to do. Could you please find me a parking space right away, oh, and close to the building so I don’t get soaked.” The words weren’t even completely out of her mouth when she saw the backup lights of a car come on at the end of the row. It was the best space in the whole parking lot, right next to the handicap spots and straight out from the front door. She made straight for it and as she pulled in, she said, “never mind God, something just opened up.” Coincidence - not grace. When it’s coincidence, of course, you don’t have to waste time being grateful, do you?
Could it possibly be true that all nine of them never gave a thought to the possibility that God might have had something to do with their healing? That surely can’t be it.
Many people have tried to come up with reasons why the others didn’t return. One waited to see if the cure was real. One waited to see if it would last. Another decided he probably never really had leprosy. One planned to go back later and thank Jesus. One waited until the priest pronounced him clean and then gave glory and thanks to the priest. One took the credit himself, after all, it was his own faith that made him well. Another decided that he probably would have recovered anyway. Still another believed that since he was doing exactly what the Lord told him to do, he didn’t have to bother with gratitude. The truth is, that final reason is valid. Jesus did command the lepers to go and present themselves to the priest. So did the law. They were just doing what they were supposed to do. The question I have is, why weren’t they so overcome with joy that they couldn’t help themselves?
I think there may be another clue in that little sentence, “He was a Samaritan.”
You may remember the story about Jesus dining in the home of a Pharisee, when "a sinful woman,’’ probably a prostitute, brought in a jar of expensive perfume and stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and bathing his feet with her tears and drying them with her hair. She continued, kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment.
"Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, ‘If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him-- that she is a sinner.’ Jesus spoke up and said to him, ‘Simon, I have something to say to you.’ ‘Teacher,’ he replied, ‘Speak.’ ‘A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. When they could not pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?’ Simon answered, ‘I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘You have judged rightly. . . Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. . . You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven . . . But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.’" [Lk 7:48-47]
I think that the response of the Jewish lepers wasn’t very strong because in a way they felt entitled to the healing. Perhaps they had spent their time in their leper’s robes and bandages thinking that God had made a mistake somehow, because they knew they didn’t deserve what had happened to them, and so, after all, being healed was only their due. Perhaps they felt that they could expect to be healed because they were children of the covenant and so God owed it to them. The Samaritan, on the other hand, was overwhelmed by the magnitude of what Jesus had done for him - that is to say, he loved much - loved much, because he knew that he had no right to expect such a gift, and that some kind of response was in order.
God has given us in America so many blessings. Our safety, our security, our prosperity are all staggering gifts of grace. But in one terrible day twenty years ago that sense of confident invulnerability was taken away from us. Many Americans on that day stood in the ruins of their expectations and cried out to God for mercy. And God showered on us lavish gifts of grace, in courage and compassion and a renewed sense of community, the outpouring of gifts to the victims of the attack. But in the years since that day, with the ongoing threat converted to a “new normal,” like a low-grade societal fever, far too many people have banished God from the equation. We even see public mocking of prayer, and a dismissal of the very idea that religion – awareness of and obedience to God - could possibly be of life-changing importance.
Moses warned the Hebrews before they crossed over into Canaan that as they got used to their fertile land and flourishing cities that they would forget the God who gave it to them. That warning is something we do well to remember, too. If we forget about God during times of prosperity, how can we expect to stand firm in times of trial? Does this new normal come with anger at God, or dismissal, or contempt?
And I wonder if somehow our former sense of entitlement about our physical security isn’t somehow mirrored in an ongoing sense of entitlement about our spiritual security. We Christians have lived for 2000 years with the knowledge that God is love, the assurance of forgiveness, the certainty that Jesus Christ has freed us from the power of sin and death. And even as we face the unpleasant reality that the evil in the world can indeed touch us, seek us out, and harm us in our own cities, in our own places of business, we need to face another reality as well.
Although Jesus Christ has conquered evil, and sin, and death, they all still exist. Sin still has power over people as long as they think they can be good on their own. If we do not recognize what God has given us in Christ, we will be just as vulnerable spiritually - fat and happy and unaware - as we were vulnerable physically before September 11. As long as we take our spiritual well-being for granted, evil, and sin, and death can harm our own families and nation, can enter our own hearts and lives and souls, not through actions of others but through our own blindness to the realities of human nature. How many people do you know who think that people are basically good at heart? Think about it. We have peace with God because Jesus died on the cross for us. How many people do you know who think that they are entitled to peace with God because God owes them?
The cure for spiritual complacency is gratitude. The nine who went on to get their certificate of good health from the priests kept their physical healing. But the one who returned, the one who took the time to give thanks, received an additional gift. As the Samaritan fell in the dust at Jesus’ feet, Jesus said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.” [v.19] When he saw beyond the healing to the healer, he received a personal word of assurance. In gratitude, we can hear and see God clearly, and surely, and in a way that lasts. Gratitude is our protection against spiritual entitlement.
We can take the gifts God has given us for granted, and - like the nine who didn’t return – have a relationship with God that depends on how well life is treating us at any given moment. Or we can choose to take time to consciously experience and express gratitude - which has the effect of lifting us above the moment and enables us to experience joy and fulfillment no matter what happens around us. Gratitude keeps us constantly aware of the presence of God; it makes it possible to trust God when circumstances fail us.
There is an old story about two grasshoppers who fell into a bowl of cream. One of them complained and groaned over his plight, and he sank to the bottom and drowned. The other kept singing and cheerfully kicked his feet until the cream turned to butter and he hopped away to freedom.
The habit of singing praises to God is truly life-giving. It isn’t just a response that displays our spiritual condition – it is the very ground for our spiritual survival. But it’s a habit that may need to be cultivated. If you’re not used to it, you may start small. Find one thing - every day - for which you are truly grateful - and think about the God who invented it, who gave it to you, and who wants you to enjoy it. Not something that you think you ought to be grateful for, but something you really are grateful for. It can be anything from a cup of coffee to a baby’s smile, but there’s always something - if you look.
A Swedish proverb says: “Those who wish to sing can always find a song.” Sing one to God.
