Have you ever been at a place in your life when all seems hopeless? When life seemed just so unfair, and you felt like you were in a box, no way out? You felt isolated, alone, hopeless, no one else cared or was interested in your situation–and God felt so very far away. If you have been there, and most of us have at one time or another, then we might understand just a smidgeon of what these ten lepers were going through in our gospel reading.
Leprosy is a dreadful horrible disease—a bacterial infection that attacks the nerves, cartilage, skin, eyes. It leads to fairly significant and shocking physical deformities. In many cases one cannot feel pain so that simple injuries will develop into putrefying wounds.
Today there is treatment, but for these 10, their bodies were literally falling apart. Slowly, progressively, they were dying bit by bit. There was no cure– there was no real help for them, except death. And worse, there were social consequences. The disease was seen as a curse or a consequence for sin. They were declared “unclean” in both a spiritual and physical sense, and they had to pronounce themselves such.
They had to stand at a distance from people. No one would have anything to do with them because they were afraid they would become like them. They were thus totally separated from their family, friends, society, and God.
So these were desperate people in a desperate situation. And so we find them, standing at a distance, crying out to Jesus as he passed by: “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!” What a terrible place to be.
Jesus master, have mercy on me, have pity on me, help me.
Have you ever prayed that prayer—that prayer of desperation?
And the very next thing the text says is that: Jesus sees them; he notices them.
When we pray Jesus hears, always, and just as importantly, he sees; he knows the situation, he knows everything that is going on, he knows what we are going through.
Seeing, then, Jesus acts, doing something rather anticlimactic–he tells the 10, go and show yourselves to the priests.
Jesus merely tells them to go to the priest and get a certificate of cleanliness—a judgment that would reunite them to the world. Surely they had expected something more, something else—a word—a touch. They still had leprosy–nothing had changed—yet.
Out of their desperation, and with some little but doubting faith, these ten men turn and start walking toward the priests, still as lepers.
They obeyed, they turned and then it happened. At some point, some instant–quite by surprise—those ten, outcast lepers were changed. The disease disappeared, they were healed. They were given their lives back—given new life in a real sense.
There is something there in that relationship between Jesus’ word, and obedience and trust. Sometimes it is not in the dramatic that we most experience God’s power and grace, but in simple, trusting obedience to his word regardless of the situation, regardless what it looks like.
Like your first time swimming—you are standing on the dock very unsure, and dad is in the water and he says jump—I’ll catch you. You do and he does: Obedience and trust.
These ten, desperate men receive an outpouring of God’s healing grace. And how do they respond?
The text is silent but I would imagine there was a moment of incredulity—could this be?
I would imagine that they wanted to get their declarations of cleanliness as soon as possible—they probably ran to the priests so they might experience what they have missed for so long—the loving hug, the affectionate kiss, the touch, the intimacy with friends and family that proved they were alive again.
And nine of them disappear into that cloud of joy, and hope, and expectation.
But one stops in his tracks.
The 10th leper responded differently. When he saw he was healed, the text says he turned back, praising God with a loud voice, and fell on his face at Jesus feet, giving him thanks.
This is most surprising, because though as a leper he was just as much an outcast, he was a Samaritan, a foreigner, a non-believer to the Jews. He was the outcast’s outcast—yet he was the one who came back.
With the alleviation of his desperate situation his faith exploded—he proclaimed to the world what God had done for him—he stopped everything to get back to the one who healed him—and when he found him he worshipped him. Why is it that we are sometimes quiet or even embarrassed to proclaim to the world what Jesus has given us?
A few years ago I was walking one of our elderly ladies, who has since gone to be with the Lord, over to her car on Strawberry Hill.
As we walked she blurted out to me: You know you healed me?
Excuse me, I replied.
You healed me, she stated.
I quickly clarified that whatever healing she received it was certainly not me but God who blessed her. I then asked what do you mean?
She then told me that she had become blind in one eye because of macular degeneration, and she came to the Friday healing service where I anointed her and prayed for her– and her sight came back in that eye.
When did this happen? I asked.
About three years ago, she replied.
Why did you wait so long to tell anyone? I asked.
I didn’t want you to get a big head, she responded.
We need to proclaim to the world what Jesus has done for us, and in us and through us, be it little or great.
That is what builds up our faith within the Church.
And that is our ministry, our vocation, our calling into the world. How else will the world know unless we tell them what Jesus is doing?
The 10th leper came back to Jesus to thank him, to worship him—acknowledging all he had done for him, acknowledging that this Jesus had given him a new start at life, healed and proclaimed clean.
We are here today worshipping Jesus. We come together and celebrate something called Holy Eucharist– that word Eucharist means giving thanks—so we are here to worship- giving holy thanks. But what is it that we are here giving thanks for?
Are we aware that all of us here were lepers, afflicted with the leprosy of sin? The disease, the condition, which destroys our souls, deforms our wills, hearts and minds, and cripples us in our relationship with God? But Jesus in his love and mercy has given himself to heal us. Through his Cross and his blood shed, we have received healing.
Being washed clean, he has given us a declaration of cleanness, and given us a new start at life that continues into eternity.
Listen to the words of this liturgy today – think about what Jesus has done for you and me, and be thankful not only for our salvation, but for all his blessings great and small.
We are, or should be, a community of 10th lepers, so when we leave this place we continue to walk in thankfulness, worshipping him with our lives, and proclaiming what he has done for us to the world.
I’ll leave you with this little bit of wisdom from my mom.
She is 90 years old and still drinks, smokes, drives, laughs; she has a wonderful perspective on life so she is someone to be listened to.
Whenever I have gone through hard time she reminds me: Ricky, always be thankful to God for everything he gives you —and for everything he doesn’t.
Sermon preached by the Rev. Richard C. Marsden
The Church of the Redeemer
Sarasota Florida
21st Sunday after Pentecost
9 October 2016