HEALING, PRAISE & THANKSGIVING
2 Corinthians 9:6-15; Luke 17:11-19
25th Sunday after Pentecost; November 19, 2023
Pastor Ritva H Williams
I begin my reflections today by focusing on the ten leprous persons in our gospel reading. Ten persons afflicted with skin diseases that itch and burn and hurt, change their skin’s color and texture, and cause red, oozing sores. People with such skin diseases were regarded as unhealthy, repulsive, unclean and unfit to participate in normal community life, and hence isolated, unable to work, pushed to the margins, cast out. For these 10 leprous persons and for all persons who find themselves marginalized for so many reasons beyond their control, I offer this blessing composed by Jan Richardson:
I know how long you have been waiting for your story to take a different turn,
how far you have gone in search of what will mend you and make you whole.
I bear no remedy, no cure, no miracle for the easing of your pain.
But I know the medicine that lives in a story that has been broken open.
I know the healing that comes in ceasing to hide ourselves away
with fingers clutched around the fragments we think are none but ours.
See how they fit together, these shards we have been carrying —
how in their meeting they make a way we could not find alone.
Somehow these ten leprous persons, sticking together for mutual support, hear that Jesus, the healer and preacher is passing through the borderlands of Galilee and Samaria. On the outskirts of an unnamed village, they approach Jesus calling out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us?”
Can you imagine how much courage that must have taken? How much hope, faith and trust they must have had in Jesus, whom they had never met in person, but whose reputation preceded him?
Notice what Jesus does not do. He doesn’t check their legal, social, or economic credentials. He doesn’t quiz them about their religious or spiritual practices, doesn't insist they confess or repent of their sins. The fact that they are physically afflicted with leprosy, emotionally and socially marginalized, economically down and out, is plain to see. So …
Jesus tells the ten to go and show themselves to the village priest. This is the biblically prescribed action for persons who have already been healed of leprosy (Leviticus 14:2ff). Without any hesitation, the ten run off toward the priest’s house.
Let’s stop and think about that sequence of action for a minute. Jesus makes no promises to heal their skin diseases, he just tells them to go and show themselves to the priest. They implicitly believe and trust Jesus — they have faith. That faith gave them the courage and the hope to approach Jesus in the first place. Now that same faith impels them do as he says, to go and show themselves to the priest. As they hurry along, they are healed and made clean, made fit to participate once again in the lives of their families, neighborhoods and communities. There is no big, flashy miracle here, just a steady process of healing set in motion by the faith that prompts them to show up, ask for help, and trust Jesus’s word.
One of them “sees” that they are in fact healed, and turns back praising God with a loud voice — “Hallelujah! God is great! God is good!” Prostrate at Jesus’ feet, this one gives thanks to Jesus. In the honor-shame culture of the biblical world, one did not formally thank one’s social equals with whom one was engaged in frequent and regular acts of mutual sharing and caring. By kneeling and thanking Jesus the formerly leprous person acknowledges Jesus as God’s agent of healing whom they cannot repay, and from whom they would not expect such grace and mercy.
After marveling that this Samaritan and foreigner is the only one who returns and gives praise to God, Jesus says, “get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well”— literally your faith has saved you and made you whole.
Jesus’ actions and words invite us to expand our understanding of who has access to God — who is worthy of God’s grace, mercy, and healing. Jesus’ actions and words challenge us to venture into the borderlands both literally and symbolically. To overcome cultural and social boundaries that divide people ethnically and religiously, economically and politically. To advocate for people marginalized because of rase, sexual orientation, gender expression, physical abilities, and neuro-divergences. Jesus’ actions and words urge us to listen to those who cry out for recognition and redemption, and to respond with compassion and love.
The beauty of this gospel reading is that it is a doubly marginalized person, outcast because of their leprosy and regarded with suspicion because they are a Samaritan, a foreigner to the Jewish Jesus and his disciples. This doubly marginalized person who is a recipient of God’s unearned and undeserved mercy, and simultaneously a model of faith.
Martin Luther’s 1521 sermon on the healing of the ten lepers, lifts up the Samaritan as one who teaches us that “faith receives ... faith brings a person to God ... through faith a person allows God to do them good.” All ten lepers had this level of faith. The Samaritan’s faith went deeper, enabling them to “see”— to understand — what was happening. Faith gives them the ability to see mercy, grace and blessing unfolding in their body, and to respond with praise and thanksgiving, which for Luther is "the only worship we may bring to God.”
Another word for praise and thanksgiving is gratitude. One of my favorite commentators describes gratitude as the noblest emotion because it “draws us out of ourselves into something larger, bigger and grander than we could imagine and joins us to the font of blessing.” Gratitude is also the most powerful emotion because it “frees us from fear, releases us from anxiety and emboldens us to do more and dare more than we’d ever imagined. Even to return to a [Jewish] rabbi to pay homage when you are a Samaritan…”
But, what about the nine who did not respond with praise and thanksgiving? We know they had faith enough to cry out to Jesus for mercy. They had faith enough trust to follow Jesus’ instructions. They didn’t have enough faith to be grateful. Or maybe they were simply oblivious and did not “see” or understand how they were being healed. Or more likely they did “see,” but their soul deep hunger to return to the bosom of their families drove every other thought right out of their heads. Perhaps like us, the other nine simply needed to remember and experience God’s grace, love, and mercy again and again, more and more. Perhaps praise and thanksgiving will emerge as their physical healing progresses to include emotional and spiritual wholeness, social and economic well-being. Perhaps in time, they will able to pay it forward, loving others as Christ loved them that day in the borderlands and every day since.
Today is Thanks-for-Giving Sunday here at St Stephen’s. I praise and give thanks to God every day for this community of faith. I give thanks for the faith that gives you the courage and confidence to come here, whether in person or virtually, trusting that you will be welcomed, affirmed and celebrated as a beloved child of God. I give thanks for the generosity of grace and mercy you show me, one another, and our neighbors. I give thanks for your compassion and commitment to make a difference for those who are hurt and marginalized in our community. Thanks be to God for the indescribable blessing that you — each one of you and all of our together — are!
