Readings: Leviticus 13:1-2, 44-46; 1 Corinthians 10:31-11:1; Mark 1:40-45
Let me ask you a question . . . Has anyone here ever seen the Broadway musical "Drat the Cat?" Has anyone even heard of the musical "Drat the Cat?" Probably not, because "Drat the Cat" was one of the biggest flops in the history of musical theater. The show opened on Broadway on October 10, 1965 and closed on October 16, 1965 - only eight performances. And probably this musical would today be completely forgotten except for one song that was in its score that had the good fortune to have been recorded by Barbra Streisand and became one of the biggest hits in her early career. The song is called “He Touched Me,” and I found that I was singing this song to myself this week because, if they were ever to produce a musical version of today’s gospel, I think it would be a perfect song for the leper to sing after he had been cured by Jesus. If you’re not familiar with the song, part of the lyrics go like this:
He touched me, he put his hand near mine
And then he touched me
I felt a sudden tingle when he touched me
A sparkle, a glow
He knew it...it wasn’t accidental, no, he knew it
He smiled and seem to tell me so all through it
He touched me . . . he touched me . . .
And suddenly nothing is the same!
Touch. There's something about it that draws us in close to someone, gets us involved, even with strangers. But there can also be something frightening about touch. It can make us uncomfortable, and we can be threatened by it because it prevents us from keeping a safe physical and emotional distance from another person. We take a chance when we reach across to grasp another's hand. It's like we're reaching through this safe barrier, and we're putting ourselves at risk. We could be rejected or, worse still, we could catch something.
When Jesus touches the leper in our Gospel story today, he places himself at great risk. His touch seems very reckless, because to touch a leper was to pay a big price. It was to become like one of them, to take the disease on yourself - to be contaminated physically, socially, and even spiritually. Jesus didn't have to touch him. He could have cured him in many other ways, with only words. But he didn't play it safe. He touched him. Jesus took this unclean man, and made him clean, while he himself became unclean. Jesus took this outcast, this pitiful and rejected person, and made him accepted, while he himself became rejected. He knew all the consequences, but it didn't stop him.
Leprosy was a catch-all for all kinds of diseases of the skin - from the very deadly and highly contagious, to the very harmless. It didn't make any difference. In the ancient world, as we learn from the Book of Leviticus, those who suffered from these diseases were all treated the same. They became outcasts, and forced out of society, from whatever ways of life they had, from whatever wealth they had accumulated, from their families, from everyone, except from others who suffered as they did. They were isolated in camps on the outskirts of the cities; they had to wear torn clothing, to shave their heads, and cry out "unclean, unclean", or sound a bell to warn others that they were approaching. They could come no closer to you than fifty paces. It was like they were already dead. To be a leper was to suffer the worst stigma of society - not only was it a physical disease, it was a terrible social disease robbing its victims of everything of value.
When the leper approaches Jesus, he comes begging on his knees. No calling out "unclean, unclean", no sounding of the warning bell, no standing at fifty paces. He crawls to the feet of Jesus, and in a profound statement of faith, says to him, "If you want to, you can make me clean." He doesn't ask for healing, he asks for cleanliness; to be restored to society, to what he once was, to be accepted, to come home, to be normal again. And the Gospel tells us that Jesus was moved with pity. But his reaction was much more than that. Some translations say that he was angry, maybe even filled with rage - not at the leper, but at the disease, and at what had happened to this man, at the way he was being treated.
And what does Jesus do? He touches him - he reaches down, and touches him. He who was feared by all, he who was on the very bottom of society, he who was treated as if he was already dead, he who was untouchable, was touched by Jesus. What an incredible encounter!
We don’t hear much about leprosy today, but our society has its lepers. Oh, we don't call them by that name, but we treat them as if they were. They don't necessarily wear torn clothes, or carry a bell around their necks, or cry out "unclean, unclean" - but they're all around us. We isolate them; we keep them at a safe distance. Anyone with a disease we fear or a lifestyle we disapprove of. Anyone we judge for something they've done or a choice they've made. The obese, the unattractive, those with terrible acne, the disabled, those who suffer from addictions or from diseases we're afraid of; those who are of a different race, different ethnicity, different religion, different sexual orientation; those we only see through the eyes of ignorance, fear, and contempt. Maybe the lepers are even members of our own families - our children, our brothers and sisters who have gotten into trouble and brought attention or shame to us. The lepers are there, many more than we think - all the untouchables, all those we're afraid to touch.
And there are some of us who feel like lepers at times. Some of us are scarred with pain, the pain of being left behind, forgotten. Some of us bear enormous weights on our shoulders from excess emotional and spiritual "baggage" that has been accumulating for years. Some of us feel we have been shut out of family circles, communities of faith, and places where we once belonged. Some of us are so lonely and angry and depressed we're sure life isn't worth living. And some of us are so tired that we can hardly move. In a world that seeks intimacy, we feel neglected and overwhelmed.
The man afflicted with leprosy in today’s gospel needed Jesus' touch, and that is exactly what Jesus gave him. Christ is willing to meet whatever need we have as well. The man with leprosy came to Jesus and begged him on his knees, "If you will it, you can make me clean." Filled with compassion, Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. "I do will it!" he said. "Be clean!"
“I do will it!” What powerful words they are. In fact, I doubt we can ever fully understand the depth of those words. And like the leper in today’s gospel, our loving God says to us, “I do will it.”
- I do will to fill you with faith if you open your heart to me.
- I do will to cleanse your soul and relieve the burden of sin that you carry, if you only turn to me.
- I do will to lead you and guide, comfort you and strengthen you for whatever life brings your way, if you will only trust in me.
- I do will to bless you abundantly everyday with everything good, holy, beautiful, true, loving, and life-giving, if you but ask for it in faith.
- I do will to stretch out my hands on the cross and die, even though it is for your sins that I die.
Powerful words, "I do will it." Christ is willing to heal our every hurt. Christ is willing to take away every sin. Christ is willing to grant us new life, if only we ask. We must be as confident as the leper bringing our fears and failings to Christ, and with the same words as his: “If you will it, you can heal me.” And Christ’s answer will be for us as it was then: “Of course I will. Be healed."
And when we allow that to happen, then the song from the musical "Drat the Cat" becomes our anthem as well. For when we allow Jesus to touch us, “suddenly nothing is the same.”
