Jesus, Master, Have Pity on Us
2 Kings 5:1-3, 9-17; 2 Timothy 2:8-13; Luke 17:11-19
Who knows how long they had suffered or the pain they had endured? Who knows the sweetness they left behind or the shattered dreams that marked their sleep?
They had been cursed by God; visited by a plague that didn’t kill, yet, never seemed to end. Their leprosy lingered for years, as limbs became twisted and deformed, skin became scarred, and memories of happier times began to fade. They were both pitied and feared; lamented and shunned. They were the lost ones — people whose families mourned them as dead, though their bodies lived on. The lepers who met Jesus on the road to Jerusalem lived out their lives as ghosts wandering in the shadows of the hills and along the brambly edges of the path. In the eyes of the world, they were fearful and unclean.
Where did they get the courage to raise their voices? What gave them the nerve to shout, “Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!” Had they heard of this healer? Did they know his reputation? Had they huddled together on edge of a crowd, straining to hear him preach? Did they dare to believe in life, even when the world saw them as dead?
Whatever drove them or inspired them, these ten lepers got it all. A new start, a clean bill of health, a chance to reclaim their lives. And in their joy, they ran out to embrace it. But one of them returned to give thanks. One of them saw beyond the gift to the giver.
It’s interesting that Luke, the author of today’s gospel and a physician by trade, presents the cure so matter-of-factly, almost in passing. There’s no discussion, no dramatics, no nothing. And so maybe in the very way he tells the story, Luke is trying to convey to us that what’s important isn’t that they were restored to health, but that the change in their bodies gave them an invitation, an opportunity to be changed in their minds and their hearts - an opportunity to see in Christ not just a healer, but a savior; to see in their cure not just their own good fortune, but rather the saving presence of God at work among His people.
The Samaritan-leper in today’s gospel returned to Jesus because he saw more than healed flesh; he saw new realities in his life. God had touched his life in an act of profound mercy, and life would never be the same for him again. Jesus had come to him, had touched him, had told him that he mattered to God, that he had a Father in heaven who cared for him. And, in that touch, this Samaritan, this outsider, now understood what it was like to come home and be embraced by his Father. So he turned, and he came back to the source of that greater healing which he - and he alone among the ten who were healed - received. He, who thought of himself as nothing more than a beggar before his God's throne, found a God who listened to him, who cared for him as a dear son!
It would be so easy to neutralize this powerful message by emphasizing the theme of the need to be polite or the value of saying, “Thanks.” It might be tempting to re-cast this dynamic encounter as little more than a morality tale designed to instill good manners and fine behavior. But that would be a mistake. This passage isn’t about courtesy, or civility, or the importance of being nice. There’s so much more that’s going on in this passage than a lesson in gracious living. In this passage, in the changes that come over one grateful leper, Luke gives us an insight into our own spiritual development. You see, besides being a loathsome and deadly physical disease, the Bible often uses leprosy as a symbol of emotional, psychological, social and spiritual dis-ease, a lack of wholeness, that keeps us alienated from God, from others, and even from ourselves. For like leprosy, these things are highly contagious and destructive. They can disfigure us, deteriorate us, distance us, and if not addressed, can ultimately lead to a different but equally costly death.
Let me look around here. No, I don’t see any lepers with us this morning. No ulcerating skin, no nodules with foul discharges, some loss of hair, but I’ll write that off as natural. Physically, we all look to be leprosy-free. But of course looks can be deceiving. What looks on the outside like a normal, healthy person could be someone suffering from emotional or spiritual leprosy.
What about you? Is there something that makes you feel like a leper? Something that alienates you from others? Something that you feel you have to keep hidden, fearful that if others became aware of it they would see you differently, treat you differently? Or are you cut off from others because of past history, false allegations, rumors, gossip, innuendo?
What are the oozing sores that you bare - physical, emotional, psychological, social, spiritual - that perhaps cause you to see yourself as different or unattractive, if not to others then to yourself? Or maybe you still bear the scars of a failed relationship or the wound of the loss of someone you love.
What are the areas in your life where you need healing? Physical pain, disease, chronic illness; problems with an addiction; anxieties about school or the job; concerns about others – their health or the choices they’ve made; confusion about who you are or what the future holds for you; hurt feelings over what someone you care about said or did; depression because no matter what you do, it never seems to turn out the way you want. Or maybe a deep sense of guilt fills you because of things you’ve done, and you don’t know how in heaven God will forgive you, or how on earth anyone else can forgive you, because you can’t even forgive yourself.
The truth is, to one extent or another, we all suffer from leprosy. We all have those discolored patches, the ones that emit a foulness that seeps into and infects the rest of our lives. There’s something in our life that keeps us from being whole before God. There’s someplace where we’re incomplete.
But part of being human is admitting that we’re less than perfect and that we need healing. And that’s what we’ve been offered. Through his death and resurrection, through the gift of bread and cup, through the gathering of his body that’s called the Church, Christ has reached out his hand to us and offered a healing touch. When Christ’s divinity meets our humanity, healing begins again. All it takes is for us to echo the words of the leper in today’s gospel and cry out, “Jesus, Master! Have pity on me!” And when we do, regardless of the afflictions and the seriousness of the symptoms, each week we’re told over and over again, “Go in peace; your faith has saved you.”
So go ahead. Say those words in prayer, “Jesus, Master! Have pity on me.” Say them at Communion time. Say those words directly to our Lord, conscious of your need for healing – spiritual healing, along the lines perhaps of forgiveness and reconciliation; or healing of a broken spirit, spiritual healing needed to overcome discouragement, confusion, disappointment, sadness. Your spiritual leprosy may stand in need of the healing of hope, the healing that only hope can bring, and the hope that can bring that healing can be found only in the Lord. Here you are, face-to-face with him in prayer today. Seize the moment as best you can.
Got a problem? Call out to Jesus. Oppressed with a concern? Take it to God in prayer. Our gospel today shows us that God cares for us. God hears our prayers and responds, not because we’ve earned that respect nor done anything to deserve it. But just because that’s who God is. And a sincere, humble and contrite heart God will not spurn.
