October 9, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois
Luke 17:11-19[1]
This is a story
about healing and gratitude. As Jesus travelled toward Jerusalem, his
reputation as a healer had spread far and wide. We learn from earlier in Luke’s
Gospel that as news about him spread abroad, “many crowds would gather to hear
him and to be cured of their diseases.”[2]
Even in this village, between Samaria and Galilee, he is recognized, and ten
lepers come to him to be healed. One is so overcome by joy that he returns to
express his thankfulness with exuberance.
This is also a
story about borders, barriers, and the lines that divide us. This village is in
the border region between Samaria and Galilee. The Samaritans were foreigners,
and though they shared much history with the Galileans, they were uncomfortable
neighbors to the Jews from Galilee. And these lepers face another barrier due
to their illness. They must keep their distance, as prescribed by the laws of
Moses which labeled them ritually unclean.
Borders are
dangerous places, filled with tension and fear. Wars begin in border regions,
and the place between the battle lines is known as “no-man’s-land.” We know the
danger of borderlands from watching what is happening in Ukraine. Civilians in
Syria, particularly in the northwest region controlled by the opposition,
continue to die as a result of landmines and unexploded ordnance left behind by
the war. And, of course, our own border with Mexico is troubled by fears of
terrorism, drugs, and crime, along with refugees desperate to find a safe
haven.
Maybe it’s in
our nature as humans that we need borders, barriers which separate us
from them. Clear lines, fences, and walls help to define what is mine
and what is yours. They make us feel safe, but they come at a price. Too often,
the divisions between us and them become the division between good and bad,
right and wrong, and they harden until they become nearly permanent.
Jesus, as we
have come to expect, crosses the borders, goes where others fear to go, steps
across the line in the name of healing, and love. The disciples may have
protested. They may have feared going near Samaria. But they are already on the
way to Jerusalem, and Jesus won’t be turned back. Besides, there are people
here that need healing.
The lepers in
the story keep their distance. They don’t approach, they don’t cross the line
that keeps them outcast from society. They know the danger of crossing the
barriers. But even from a distance Jesus reaches out to heal. With a simple
command, “‘Go and show yourselves to the priests.’ And as they went, they were
made clean.” The other nine go on to do what is expected, to show themselves to
the priest and get their stamp of approval. And if that was all that happened,
we probably wouldn’t know this story. One of them turns back. One of them
understood that the barrier had been removed, the wall had been torn down, the healing
had removed the danger. “He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him.”
What is
surprising about the story from Luke’s Gospel is that only one came back. “Was
none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” And
maybe that is it, right there. Though it is not explicit in the text, the other
nine may have been Galileans. They can go to the temple and see the priests,
having been cured. They can be welcomed back into society. But there is not
cure for being a Samaritan. Even without the leprosy, this “foreigner” wouldn’t
be welcome. That barrier remains. The borders still divide his people from the
others. But this one recognized Jesus for who he really is, and found a bridge
to reach across the divide.
Where do you
find yourself in this story? What divisions do we wrestle with in the church,
our communities, our nation, and the world? What borders have we drawn, what
walls have we put up, and what lines won’t we cross?
Maybe we
identify with the disciples. We’ve got places to be, and we’d rather not hang
around in dangerous places like this. We’re following our leaders, and
sometimes wondering if it’s a good idea.
Maybe we’re
with the nine lepers. We're trying to be good people who obey the laws, follow
the rules, and now we have a chance to get past what has held us back. We’re
happy for the healing, but we’re ready to move on, even if that means that we
forget to say thanks.
Maybe we’re
that one that came back. After all this time, someone saw past our outward
appearance, our social status, our identity as different, other, unclean, and
saw the human being inside. Finally, someone took the time to speak to us, and
not just pass by trying to not notice. How could we not praise God, and give
thanks for healing and hope?
He may be a
foreigner, one of “them” to the crowd around Jesus, but with a word Jesus shows
him that he is worthy of compassion, a whole and loved human being in need of
healing, and tears down the barrier that has kept him from being a member of
any community except that of the lepers, exiled from society. We don’t know
what happens to this person when he goes on his way. He is still a Samaritan,
still living on the border between us and them, but at least this one wall has
come down. His faith has made him well. His life will never be the same.
The barriers
and borders remain for us as well. We still often see the world as us and them,
insiders and outsiders. But Jesus shows us what is more important than our
divisions. Jesus opens our eyes, our minds, our hearts to see the person
despite the barriers. They may be an Immigration Agent or a refugee, Ukrainian
or Russian, a Turk or a Kurd or a Syrian, a public servant or a protester, but
beyond all of that they are a person, a beloved child of God, and worthy of
compassion.
I once read about
a man named Daryl Davis. For the past 30 years, Davis, a black man, has spent
time befriending members of the Ku Klux Klan. Since Davis started talking with
these people, he says 200 Klansmen have given up their robes. How does he do
it? By simply sitting down and having dinner with people. He says:
If you spend five minutes with your worst enemy — it
doesn’t have to be about race, it could be about anything...you will find that
you both have something in common. As you build upon those commonalities,
you’re forming a relationship and as you build about that relationship, you’re
forming a friendship. That’s what would happen. I didn’t convert anybody. They
saw the light and converted themselves.[3]
Change is
possible. Transformation and healing can occur. The best way to bring down
barriers and open borders is to build bridges. The best way to heal the
divisions between people is building relationships. You’ll never know why
someone thinks the way they do if you don’t ask. You’ll never be able to heal
if you don’t seek to understand what is wrong. Jesus didn’t ignore the lepers.
When they cried out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us,” he saw them, he had
mercy on them, and he healed them.
If you try to
offer healing and hope, mercy and compassion, sometimes you’ll be rejected. Sometimes
you’ll be thanked. Nine times out of ten it won’t seem to make much difference.
But when it does, be thankful. When the difference is made in you, be grateful.
Praise God for what God has done for you, through you, and all around you. Give
thanks for all of the relationships that have opened the borders and removed
the barriers between the people in your life. Remember the Source of healing.
Then, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.” Amen.
[1] The
scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard
Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of
the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
[2]
Luke 5:15.
[3]
Dwane Brown, “How One Man Convinced 200 Ku Klux Klan Members to Give Up Their
Robes” August 20, 2017, from All Things Considered: https://www.npr.org/2017/08/20/544861933/.
