AtomRemembering to Thank
Luke 16:19-31
It was a short year ago that we were at the St. Cloud hospital for my Mom’s heart bypass surgery. It was a long day and a tense day. And the days that followed were plenty anxious as well, as Mom hung in that balance between recovery and not recovery. Many of you have been there at some time in your life. And perhaps you have noticed – I hope you have – that those kinds of experiences open us to conversations with others that we might not have had otherwise. Over the course of some hours and then some days, you find yourselves making friends with the family from out-state who came to this hospital because they have the best surgeon around, the only one that can possibly help their loved one. You find yourself grieving and silently praying with the Hispanic family who came in through the emergency room – their loved one had a heart-attack before anybody knew he had heart blockage. His son found them on the bathroom floor and now they are here hoping they got medical help in time. Or you find yourself playing blocks with the toddler children of the young mom with multiple body piercings. She is doing her best to keep it together while her husband is in intensive care. He took an overdose of pills and nobody knows if he might survive. When life hangs in the balance you find yourself in the company of folks you might not otherwise spend time with, let along share a conversation or a meal. Some of you have been there…in a hospital room – or for those of you who have served in the military…maybe in your unit, the guys you served with who came from places and families far different than your own. A crisis, a common experience brought you together in a way you never would have been together in any other situation. Which is pretty much what happens in today’s gospel reading.
It’s only late in the reading that we find out that among the ten lepers Jesus encounters, one is a Samaritan. That may be the most significant point of the story. Samaritans just didn’t hang out with Jews. They didn’t like each other. In fact, they pretty much hated each other – some old family enmity about who were the true people of Israel and who worshipped God in the proper way. But misery has a way of breaking down even the most formidable barriers and that is how the Samaritan leper found himself keeping company with Jewish lepers.
The Samaritan looked around at his companions gathered around the small fire they had lit on the outskirts of the village. They huddled together for warmth, each of their bodies in varying degrees of decay, their sores wrapped to protect against further injury and to hide the ugliness. For most of them the lesions had started small and they had tried to hide them, fearing what they meant. But the sores had spread to the face and then there was no hiding their sickness from the community and community law was clear. Anyone who contracted leprosy had to leave home and community – family, friends, all of it – and stay well clear of the healthy. And if that wasn’t painful enough, they had the humiliation of having to announce themselves whenever they come within shouting distance of the non-leprous. It was unfair…and it was excruciatingly, painfully lonely.
And it was the loneliness and the common misery that brought them to each other. They came from different economic backgrounds…some had been quite settled, with good trades…others had lived on the edge of poverty. The Samaritan? Well, he was a different breed altogether. Ordinarily they would not have given him a second look, but somehow the leprosy caused the others to look past his questionable racial and religious background and they welcomed him to their little gathering, to draw near the fire and to share in the bits of food thrown to them by family members or gleaned from the fields.
As they huddled there around the fire, they saw a group heading toward the village. They watched, sullen and envious of these who could so freely come and go. And then one of his fellows stood and pointed… “Hey, that one is the teacher, the rabbi, the one who heals people!” The rest of them stood as one and started toward him, but then, remembering who they were, they called out from a distance, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us! Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” The Samaritan didn’t really know this Jesus. Jesus was Jewish after all. But he joined in their shout. “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
And…Jesus stopped…he and his whole crowd…and he looked directly at them, unlike the multitudes who passed by every day, averting their eyes. And he started toward them…just a step or two…and called back. “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” Go and show yourself to the priests? The priests, of course, were the ones who declared folks clean or unclean. They were the ones that could ban the unhealthy from society. They were the ones that could declare that one was clean and whole and fit to rejoin society. But that could only happen if their leprosy was healed. What was Jesus saying? Could it be? They looked at each other, eyes wide. What did they have to lose? And then they all began to move at once, to run…toward the city…toward the priests…toward wholeness. And as they ran, they felt the change begin to happen, the flesh to close up and the skin to become smooth and soft…something miraculous was happening…and their spirits – their hearts – began to sing as they hurried on toward life!
Now…I want to pause here in the story for a few moments…and invite you to reflect with me. The lepers in the story received a gift…a gift that they could never have imagined…healing…wholeness…a new lease on life…a return to community. Once again they could gather with friends and family around a table filled with good foods. Once again they could take a baby into their arms or throw a hug around a friend. One can only image all the things that they were blessed with at that moment, but pretty much things you and I take for granted until a crisis rears its ugly head in our lives. Sometimes it is only when we have recovered from a life threatening illness or had a grandbaby safely delivered when Mom and Baby were in a pretty tenuous situation, or when our loved one has returned from a far away place that we recognize the blessings of home and family that can so easily be lost and that are so precious when restored. It’s not Thanksgiving week yet, but it is worth reflecting upon more often than once a year: How have you been blessed or restored in this past year? Maybe it has been a miraculous answer to prayer in a time of crisis: Perhaps a new home, a new job…recovery from illness…comfort and companionship with good friends after the death of your loved one…healing from a severe illness…or the peace that comes from knowing Jesus – his forgiving love when you have blown it in ways you cannot even speak of and wonder if anyone could ever love you again. Or maybe it has been the every day provision and restoration that we may not even think of as coming from the hand of God: shelter and food, home and family, health and employment. How easy it is to take such blessings and healings for granted and just move on without a second thought.
The Samaritan also felt the warmth that spread through his body…the warmth of well-being and the sensation of feeling that returned to his fingers and toes. It was so wonderful that he stopped right where he was and began to explore his once broken body. He pulled the bandages away and saw fingers and toes that were again whole and strong with skin that was clear and smooth. He couldn’t see his face of course, but as his fingertips searched he found ears and nose that had returned to proper form, that were again sensitive to his touch. He turned then and looked back in the direction from which he had come. There was the healer, Jesus, still standing and watching…a small smile of satisfaction playing across his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes.
And suddenly the Samaritan found himself running again. Only this time he was running toward Jesus…shouting his thanks to God…running to the One who had made him whole. Breathless now, he fell at Jesus feet. And Jesus said, “Were there not ten who were made clean? Where are the other nine? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this…outsider?”
Indeed. 10 were healed. Ten received a wonderful gift. They returned to their families and to their communities. They returned to normal life – the way life was supposed to be and somehow they lost sight of the miracle. To be sure this story of Jesus is about thankfulness. It is about letting the thankfulness of our hearts overflow into our actions. Sometimes as preachers we even lean on this a bit. We talk about thankfulness flowing over in our actions. We set aside time to express our thanks in worship. We pray and sing. We share some of our resources with the hungry. These are all good. I commend them to you.
But there is also something here about the Samaritan being in the story that prods at me. Why is it important that he be a Samaritan? Why not just say there were ten lepers and only one came back…only one in ten really got it. That would be enough of a challenge to us, wouldn’t it? Even though all were healed, only one really connected with the healer, with the Lord and giver of life.
But Jesus is amazed here that the one who got it was a Samaritan. Why? William Willimon, pastor and teacher tells of a plane trip he was taking into New York City, I believe. When Willimon told him who he was and what he did, the man said to him, “I’m really not a very religious type. I don’t go to church much at all, but this past year my wife found out she had cancer. I fell on my knees and I cried out for all I was worth for God to heal her. And today she is well. It was a miracle. And I’m on my way to New York to give $10,000 to a church doing homeless ministry here, and next year I hope to give more. And Willimon thought to himself, “I don’t particularly agree with his take on the healing, and have never had that kind of healing in my life…but on the other hand have never had such an overwhelming response of generosity in my life either.” Here’s a guy who barely knows about God and he gets it.
I think the importance of the Samaritan in the story today might be something like this: Here was a foreigner, a non-Jew – a non-Christian we might read it today. He was not one of the “insiders” who should have seen and understood and responded to Jesus. Maybe the “insiders” – the Jewish lepers – just expected God to heal them, kind of like we expect Grandma and Grandpa to remember our birthdays so we don’t really have to say thanks. Or maybe the way we expect our parents to take care of us and put a roof over our heads and food in front of us. They’re supposed to do that. They are our parents.
Please don’t think I am taking aim at the youth or my children here. I have been that youth. I took much for granted until I tried to put a roof over my own head. I might equally point to things I take for granted as a “maturing adult.” I still have my parents in my life because Medicare has made it possible for them to have wonderful surgeries that have saved their lives…surgeries that have cost far more than what they ever paid into the system. Even if we have other forms of insurance, when we have a catastrophic illness, we often reap benefits far greater than what we have invested. I assume that I will have the same privileges as I grow older. I forget to be amazed and thankful until someone who does not take such things for granted reminds me of the blessing I have received.
When I went to Jamaica a few years ago, the leadership of Food for the Poor consistently reminded us that we need the poor as much as they need us. This is no doubt true. They need me. I have been blessed so that I have something to share. But I may not even recognize that I have been blessed until I see those who do not have what I have. I may not remember to give thanks for my health until I have seen those who are sick, or until I have been sick myself.
I may in fact get so used to hearing the promise of Jesus’ forgiveness that I may just take it for granted. I may forget how needy I am, how often I fall short of God’s hopes for my life, how often I am angry or bitter or resentful, how often I am so centered on my own world that I do not recognize the needs of others. I may forget since I am already in – a member of Christ’s church—how dependent I am upon the mercy of God – as dependent as the broken-hearted young man in my office who has discovered the loving forgiveness of Jesus for the first time.
I need the outsider – the poor, the broken – so that I might see and recognize God’s blessing, and so I might be whole, connected, living thankfully.
“Where are the nine? Did only this outsider get it?” Again this day, may the Lord help us to “get it.” And having got it, to live our thanks…let’s pray.
Page 1 of 1 comment pages