It was told as a morality story of what happens when you
don’t say thank you. You might end up like one of the other nine unhappy lepers
who weren’t cleansed, but, if you said thank you, you could be cleansed and
happy. DING!
We were told that saying thank you was an act of faith;
Jesus likes children who say thank you. If we wanted to stay in good
relationship with the people around us, we should always say thank you. Right
after our lesson we got Kool Aid and cookies. We all politely said thank you,
and then, we all got another cookie! We were more enthusiastic in our thank you
the second time, but no more cookies came our way. Lesson learned: saying thank
you gets you another cookie, but, saying thank you more than once, gets you nothing.
DING!
That was almost 60 years ago, yet I can still visualize the
room right down to the saddle shoes Kathy Anderson (name changed) was wearing.
The cookies were vanilla sandwich cookies and the Kool Aid was red. How far we
have come since then. Today, St. Mary’s Lutheran Church has moved to a new
location. I am writing on a computer that has the capability of downloading
film footage with depictions of the Biblical story. Images of stained glass
windows and major art work covering this text are available. There are articles
on leprosy from magazines and journals. All are available in minutes. DING!
Over the years, in this story, I
have come to appreciate the challenges of identity within it and how faith
informs that identity. I have also come to understand that the cleansing that
takes place is for all ten of the lepers. Still, saying thank you continues as
a central part of this story, and, more than that, glorifying God (δοξάζω, doxazō) leads to giving thanks (εὐχαριστέω, eucharisteō). DING!
Just a chapter ago, Lazarus (God has helped), in the arms of
Father Abraham, and the rich man, in Hades, are separated by a chasm (Luke 16:26).
Neither can cross this region between.
This passage in ch. 17 where Jesus and his disciples are journeying in the region between Galilee and Samaria
introduces us to their alienation from society. Jesus walks with an entourage in the region between, not crossing the chasm but
filling it. DING!
Now in the region between,
the Lazaruses of the world are able to be recognized and cleansed. In this region between, faith and new identity
is found. In this region between, new
ways of living are being forged. In this region
between, the afflicted are lifted up from the polarization of Abraham’s
arms and Hades into a world that finds communal wholeness in Jesus’ presence, glorifying
God and giving cause for thanksgiving for this new, gracious relationship of mercy
and salvation. DING!
This region between
not only challenges us to think about the identity of the lepers who are cleansed
and their place in the world, but it challenges us to think about who this
Jesus is. Although in ch. 2 Jesus is identified as coming from Nazareth in
Galilee, his identity depends on getting to Jerusalem. It is the Jerusalem Jesus that matters to us
because that is where we receive our salvation. It is this Jerusalem Jesus that the leper has faith in. Jerusalem Jesus rises from the tomb. DING!
In this region between,
an itinerant Master (Jesus) meets some unclean outcasts on the road. We have no
idea of how long these lepers have been together, but there is a group identity
of being unclean outcasts that has held them together for a period of time. They
may be lepers, but they have each other. They are a community of inclusive
isolation, caring for and depending on one another. From a distance, they
approach as one. They ask for mercy as one. They may be begging for nothing
more than food, but Jesus chooses to interpret mercy as asking to be made clean.
When Jesus commands them to show themselves to the priest, they go as one. And
on the way they are made clean (καθαρίζω, katharizō) as one. DING!
The lepers notice that their skin disease (leprosy) is gone as
they are traveling down the road to go to present themselves to the priest.
They are no longer unclean outcasts; they have been cleansed; they have
received catharsis. But has their group identity changed? After all, who is
going to believe it? Doesn’t this experience need some processing time? Maybe
sticking together and sharing the experience is a way to maintain their group
identity.
One of them, however, is willing
to change how he thinks about himself. He is willing to change his identity,
to associate with the source of his cleansing rather than the old community of
inclusive isolation. It is this identity changing move that makes the
difference. The one formerly known as leper has chosen to identify himself with
the Master rather than with the others formerly known as lepers. No longer is
this one, AKA leper, he is faithful and in his faithfulness he doxologizes God
and gives eucharistic thanks. DING!
Jesus responds to this thanksgiving with wonder. Weren’t
there ten of you? Where are the other nine? If you are willing to change your identity,
shouldn’t there be more of you who are willing? DING!
It’s possible this thankful one has not come of his own
accord. Perhaps, when the ten find they are cleansed, the group identity of
their shared disease may no longer be strong enough to keep them in community. They
are no longer able to live together in the region
between as one because now their own social prejudices separate them. There
is one among them who is a Samaritan (Σαμαρίτης,
Samaritēs), a foreigner (ἀλλογενής,
allogenēs). Their oneness is broken. They are unable to find a new
commonality in the Master. Instead they choose old ways of segregation. So the Samaritan turns back and glorifies (δοξάζω, doxazō) God giving thanks (εὐχαριστέω, eucharisteō) that there is a new community
of Jesus and his followers to belong to. The cleansed has been linked to a new
oneness. In the region between this
is possible because Jesus, unlike the rich man, is able to see, recognize and
appreciate Lazarus(es) covered with sores and show mercy. DING!
I prefer to interpret the Samaritan’s actions as choice
freely made rather than the result of prejudicial treatment, but, in either
case, his identity changes: he becomes a follower of the Master. I believe that this passage is more about trusting
who and whose we are, rather than the plight of the other nine. It is more
about those times when we live in those regions
between as foreigners to those around us, when we are dis-allowed by our
culture, when we don’t seem to fit in with the people we find around us (as in
the other nine). (I am not discounting the need in the 1st century to
quarantine people as a means of discovering whether a particular disease was
dangerous and contagious.)
Can we see today where people are quarantined unjustly? Can
we recognize groups of socially ostracized people who need merciful wholeness in
Christ and understand that only some will be able to change their
identity? Can we acknowledge that some others will benefit from those
communities of cathartic healing-wholeness without embracing their new
identity?
Is it possible that we have made the church’s identity that
of the modern leper, segregated from the rest of society by our own practice of
inclusive isolation that is crying for mercy and cathartic healing-wholeness? Are
we, as the church, willing to turn away from those practices of communal
quarantine that keep us separated from one another? Can we find our way into
the region between where the chasm of
despair is mercifully filled with the Master’s cathartic healing hope? Is there
space for doxological praise and eucharistic thanksgiving for the healing forgiveness
that comes from the cross and resurrection, the cross and resurrection sending
us out into the world able to recognize and acknowledge others in need? Can we,
when we hear those words of healing, “Go, your faith has saved (σῴζω, sōzō) you”, proceed, skipping down
the road, or dancing, maybe even running, with a hand in the air, one foot
raised and the other almost touching the road praising God and giving thanks,
not thanking God for what we will get, but for what we have? If we can, imagine
with me what the world might look like then.
Jesus, Master, have mercy!
DING!
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