Proper 23C-1
Luke 17: 11-19
It isn’t a parable, though it sure sounds like one. Luke has spent the
last few chapters of his gospel presenting this extended scene—beginning with
Jesus leaving the Sabbath Table of the prominent religious official to mingle
with the crowds, to preach, teach, heal and bless. And then when he is criticized for conduct
unbecoming a rabbi—consorting with sinners and working on the Sabbath--he
strikes back with a series of pointed parables: the Lost Sheep, the Lost Coin,
the Prodigal Son, the Unjust Steward, Lazarus and Dives. Each presenting a vivid contrast between the
comfortable, materialistic, secure, compromising, fearful, and ultimately
hypocritical values evident in the lives of the establishment religious
officials, and a vision of God’s kingdom: a kingdom of extravagant mercy,
generosity, joy, humility, hospitality, modesty, unselfish holiness and
obedience. A vivid contrast that
certainly made the officials more and more intent on getting Jesus off stage,
by any means necessary.
Luke decides that this is the time to tell about something that
happened maybe a few weeks earlier. We
will remember back in Luke chapter 9, as the journey from the Galilee to
Jerusalem was just beginning, the first place Jesus and his disciples passed
through was a village of Samaritans. (I
preached a sermon on this text when it was appointed back on June 26th,
so I’m sure it’s still going to be fresh in your minds!) Jesus had sent someone on ahead to see if they
might find somewhere to spend the night, but the Samaritans, who were hostile
to the Jews, shut the door in their faces.
(If the tables had been turned, of course, the residents of a Jewish
village would for sure have refused a similar request from a group of traveling
Samaritans.) In any event, the disciples
wanted to punish the Samaritan villagers by praying that God would send down a
storm of fire to consume them, but Jesus rebuked the disciples, and had them
continue traveling. Now here in chapter
17 we have this flashback.
It seems that soon after this
event, while they were in the same region, they came across some lepers at the
entrance to another small village.
(We’re reminded that the word “leprosy” in the gospels doesn’t
necessarily refer to the specific condition modern medicine calls Hansen’s Disease. It’s what they would call any kind of
disfiguring skin condition, whether chronic or transient. We would probably have a number of
diagnostic categories. But those who
suffered from these conditions were all considered ritually unclean and socially
untouchable. They were not permitted to
work, to pray in the synagogue, to live at home with their families, to
participate in any aspect of community life.
They became outcasts and pariahs out on the farthest margins of the
community. Their wives and husbands and
parents and children could have nothing to do with them. In the deeply family-centered and communal
near-eastern culture this was pretty much like a sentence of death.)
So now Jesus and his disciples come along. The lepers call out, “have mercy on us.” Spare change? You don’t even have to come close. Just toss us a few coins! But Jesus responds dramatically. He stops, approaches them, speaks directly to
them. Eye contact and physical
proximity. He says, “Go and show
yourselves to the priests.” Which is
what would need to happen for them before they could be restored to their
families and community. To get an
official health department certificate to show that they are no longer
suffering from their condition and can return to ordinary life. And Luke says that that’s what they did,
right away. They heard Jesus, and immediately
they got up and headed to the synagogue.
No questions asked. The gospels
sometimes comment Jesus spoke as one “with authority.” In any event, the Ten Lepers don’t respond in
a skeptical way. “Thanks very much, but
how about a couple of dollars instead?” Even
before they can see any evidence of change, they do what he says. Hebrews 11 calls faith “the substance of
things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” And as they stepped out in faith, a miracle happened: “As they went,” Luke says, “they were
cleansed.”
So, another great work of power, as we have seen again and again in
Luke and all the gospels. Jesus
exercising his authority over the powers and principalities of this world. But then the further twist, which seems to
be why Luke is telling the story. He
sees in what happens next in the story as another example of the moral and
spiritual contrast that Jesus has been setting out in this series of
parables. The point isn’t only about the healing miracle.
That just sets the table for what follows.
Which is that one of the lepers stops when he sees what has happened. He turns, even before he gets to the
synagogue for his certificate. He returns
to find Jesus, and to thank him, to fall at his feet in tearful appreciation--to
thank him and to worship. A perfect
illustration of metanoia, repentance:
a change of mind, a change of life-direction. And interestingly Luke tells us
it turns out that of the ten in the group, this one happened to be a Samaritan. Maybe originally from that village we heard
about in chapter 9. Maybe he himself or
members of his family were some of the Samaritans who had turned Jesus away
just a short while ago. But now he is
kneeling before him, overflowing with thanks.
And Jesus offers this grateful Samaritan a personal benediction, in
verse 19: “Go your way; you faith has made you well.”
The key point of this story comes home when we notice the contrast
between two words, and different translators try to communicate this in
different ways. In verse 14 we are told
here in the RSV that as all 10 of the lepers were headed to the local priest to
show themselves, they were “cleansed.” But then in verse 19, again, Jesus tells the
one thankful Samaritan leper, “your faith has made you well.” In Greek the word
Luke uses in verse 14 is katharizo,
literally to purge, or scour, or clean, and certainly seems to refer to the
evidence of disease, removing the presenting symptoms. But then in verse 19, sozo, literally to save, rescue, restore. To heal.
To make whole. Your faith has
saved you.
All ten obey. All ten are cured. But it is in the change of heart, metanoia, repentance, in and through the response of thankfulness
and worship, the heart overflowing with gratitude, that this deeper wholeness and restoration
and salvation comes to the one who returned to the source, to the giver of the
gift. Years ago Lloyd Ogilvie, the pastor
of the Hollywood Presbyterian Church, had a famous sermon on the character of
faithful Christian life called the “Attitude of Gratitude.” A life of
Thanksgiving. The Greek word for an expression
of thanks is “eucharist.” And the fact
that the one who is saved here in this “eucharistic moment” is a Samaritan is a
delicious irony. “Who you are” obviously
has nothing to do with it, because he’s a complete nobody. You can’t get
farther outside the circle of Jewish life than by being a Samaritan leper. You can’t get farther from the top of the
ladder where those Scribes and Pharisees were living, among the Jerusalem
elites. All ten obeyed Jesus, just as those Scribes and Pharisees are great at
the details of external obedience. Yet
of the ten, only one is saved. The one
who stopped and returned to Jesus. The
Samaritan.
To make a pun, what Jesus the Great Diagnostician has been saying
through this section of the gospel is that these Scribes and Pharisees suffer from
a kind of “heart disease.” It’s not a question of their credentials or their
outward observance, but of their character.
Not about who they are, but
about whose they are. And so Luke’s invitation in recalling this story
for us. Where are we in this story? Who are we?
About stepping back, taking a deep breath, looking deeper, turning
around. We do have choices to make. And one choice in particular. We may think we’re doing just fine, as the
Nine Lepers must have felt as they rushed to the priest for their documents and
then returned to their old lives, their work, their families, their communities. But for the one who comes back to Jesus, a
conversion and transformation, his heart is full and changed his life is made
new. For him it wasn’t about going back
to his old life, but about moving on forward to one that would be new and fresh
in Jesus. Where are we in this
story? Who are we?
Walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself for us, an offering
and a sacrifice to God.
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