This healing story of the ten lepers seems pretty straightforward. The point is clear, isn’t it? Be
grateful, say thank you, especially to God.
Luke the Gospel writer could have easily ended this story the same way
as he did the Parable of the Good Samaritan:
“Go and do likewise.”
So, this ought to be a short
sermon. The Tenth Leper came back to say
“thank you” to Jesus, Jesus was clearly pleased. Go and do likewise.
But wait. This is more than a morality tale about
being appropriately grateful to God for his many mercies and blessings. It is, in fact, another step on the journey
to Jerusalem and the undoing of a world—and a
religion—built on fear.
A group of lepers had sought each
others’ company, the company of
misery. They are the walking dead, cut
off from society, allowed to beg only if they keep their distance.
Begging was probably their intention
in their shout to Jesus. “Master, have mercy.” He gives
them a strange command. “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” Yet, the
priests were part of the system which condemned them to this life of
misery. They were also the only ones who
could get them out of it; but what good could they do now? But they obeyed because that is what lepers
did.
On the way, they notice their skin
has mysteriously cleared up and suddenly their obedience to Jesus’ command has real purpose. The priests can now restore them to the life
they had lost. Let us not judge the nine
who continued on their way. They were simply doing what they were told and
exercising the only option they had to reclaim their lives.
One of them, however, was
different. He was a Samaritan, a despised
foreigner. The priests would do nothing for him. When he had been a leper, it had not much
mattered that he was also a Samaritan.
In a world where everything was either clean or unclean it was one
strike and you’re out. The second one did
not much matter, which means it also did not much matter if only one of the
strikes went away.
So the tenth leper had nowhere to
go. But he was clean and he was grateful
and he was drawn to the man who had given them the strange command. Maybe if he
cared about lepers he would also care about Samaritans.
So he expresses his deep gratitude as
one who has nothing to lose. He falls at Jesus’ feet and declares not only his gratitude but
acknowledges the presence of God. Jesus
says to him, “Your faith has made you
well,” which from the Greek could
just as easily be translated, “Your faith has saved you.”
Full stop. What was the act of faith that saved the
tenth leper? Is the implication that the
other nine were not made well, not saved? As tempting as it is to say, “Yes,” I don’t think that is the right answer. They were, in fact, healed, and despite his
asking where they were, Jesus knew where they were. They were doing what he told them to do and
what their religion told them to do if they were to be restored to the
community as clean.
So what was the tenth leper’s act of faith?
Saying, “Thank you?” Yes, surely
that is a part of it. Gratitude and
faith are inseparable. We people of the
Eucharist—that word which in Greek
means “Thanksgiving”—know that.
Was his act of faith believing and
declaring that in encountering Jesus he had encountered God? Yes, that is part of it also.
But there is one more part, and it is
the one that came first. There was a
moment when he and the other nine realized they were clean, and he stopped,
realizing that it didn’t matter, at least not to
the priests to which they were heading.
And he must have thought to himself, “Where
can I go?” And then came the act of faith. “I can
go back to Jesus.” He knew not only that he ought to say thank
you. He not only knew that he had
encountered the presence of God. He
dared to believe he would be accepted.
This story is for all of us who have
been led to believe that we were not acceptable to God, and have dared to
believe otherwise. We who have staked
our lives on the conviction born in our experience that the religion of Jesus
Christ is not a religion of division and fear, but faith and gratitude.
And this is our song.
Come, ye sinners, poor and
needy,
weak and wounded, sick and
sore;
Jesus ready stands to save
you,
full of mercy, love, and
power.
I will arise and go to
Jesus,
he will embrace me in his
arms;
in the arms of my dear
Savior,
oh, there are ten thousand
charms.
Let not conscience make you
linger,
not of fitness fondly dream;
all the fitness he requireth
is to feel your need of him.
Let us arise and go to
Jesus,
he will embrace us in his
arms;
In the arms of our dear
Savior,
oh, there are ten thousand
charms.[1]
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