by church news | Mar 11, 2017 | Sermons
I have pondered long and hard about this sermon. I have read books, I have shared in long discussion about all the passages on Tuesday morning with our merry band of Bible studiers, and I am not happy with what we decided, nor with what my Boys Own Big Book of Lent tells me.
If you want, we can read all those passages today as typological. That is, Adam & Eve are types of humanity, the snake is a type of the Evil One, and Christ is the new Adam, the new Moses, and his people are the new Israel. How do we know this? Because my Boys Own Big Book of Lent says that all of Jesus’s answers to the temptations come from the book of Deuteronomy, which is, as you know, a recapitulation of the story of Israel from the Red Sea to the border of the Promised Land. They took 40 years to get through the wilderness, Jesus spent a symbolic 40 days in the wilderness, they succumbed to three temptations – food, water and the worship of a golden calf – Jesus resists all three temptations – refuses to interfere with creation for his own physical needs, refuses to go for the big public act to encourage belief in his Messiahship (unlike Moses, who struck the rock to get water out, when God had told him to speak to it), and refuses to bow down and worship the tempter. Just before these temptations, Jesus had been baptised – viz Israel crossing the Red Sea in safety, from slavery to freedom, as we say in our baptism prayer over the water) – and afterwards Jesus calls his first disciples. There we are, a nice knock-down argument, neat, convincing, complete.
But the answer to that is, “So what?” That unpacking of the story and piecing it back together again only tells us that Jesus was the Messiah, and that the Church is the new Israel. All that temptation stuff is merely to re-assure us that Jesus could triumph over the issues on which the People of Israel failed – but that doesn’t do anything for us, weak, wandering, timid human beings that we are.
So we turn to another page of the Boys Own Big Book of Lent, and we read a neat, three point explanation which will sort us out good and proper. These three temptations are about our spiritual life, that is, the temptation not to be spiritual, but to do things for ourselves, the temptation to be super-spiritual – to overdo our spiritual abilities and boundaries, and the temptation to become a spiritual megalomaniac.
Well I’m sorry, I may accept the first one, but the other two are unrecognisable, even in an O so humble parish priest as my poor, struggling self. Those three pat answers are just that, easy preaching, sermon done and dusted in minutes.
No, I want something more than that out of this story of the temptation of Christ. I want something more than a folk tale to reinforce the social hierarchy, by blaming human failings on the first woman. I want something that might just be helpful in today’s complex and interconnected world, and I want that to be as hard as going 40 days without food – which, by the way, can be life-threatening and certainly life-altering, so don’t do it.
No, I want an acknowledgement that temptation is real, it is physical, it is spiritual, it is deep within our psyche and our soul, and that this is a hard world in which to try to sort it out. And the temptations are different today to those which Christ underwent. The temptation to go with the flow, not to rock the boat, is a real one, but leaves injustice unchallenged and unjust structures intact. The temptation to think small, to think of a narrow world around ourselves which is to be protected at all costs, is a real one in a global world, where our narrow-mindedness can have a negative impact on peoples’ lives around the world. And the biggest temptation of them all is the temptation not to think, not to engage our brains and our energies in analysis, debate, struggling through all sides of an issue until a reasonable and beneficial answer is found. Where are those temptations faced in the wilderness?
They are, of course, all there. Narrow, selfish thinking is the stones into bread temptation, not thinking at all is leaping off the pinnacle of the Temple, and going with the flow is bowing down and worshipping the tempter. We may live in a complex and interconnected world, but our basic humanity is unchanging, merely our context.
What we have to get through to is the effort that Christ had to put in to resist these three temptations. The story reads as if he had the quotations from Deuteronomy at his fingertips, ready to be used as soon as an appropriate temptation came his way. That is not human, that is unrealistic. No. Christ struggled to come up with those answers, as he craved food, as he looked forward to his ministry across the Jewish nation, and as he prepared himself to bring in God’s kingdom of love and mercy. And so we too have to be prepared to struggle, to work hard at countering lazy thinking, at piercing to the heart of an argument or a policy, or an attitude, to be able to put it properly within the context of God’s standards of love and justice and then live appropriately as the children of God – if it is wrong, we fight against it. If it is right, we uphold it gladly and say so publicly.
Some matters are relatively straightforward. The government’s decision to abandon the Dubs amendment on bringing migrant children to the UK is quite simple wrong on any count, under any analysis. False news, lies, black propaganda – call them what you like – are wrong, as we are a holy people who live and speak the truth. The current squeeze on social care is much more complex, and there are many options to be taken into consideration, not least everybody paying a bit more tax to make it happen properly.
But this is not just about politics. This is about personal relationships, the workplace/homelife balance, our interdependence with creation, our wellbeing as individuals, as families and as a community. Lazy thinking, going with the flow, does not improve a deteriorating situation. Thinking small about a big problem does not advance a wider solution. Opting out of debate does not ameliorate that debate, it merely closes it down without resolution. Lent can be a time to get to grips with things, to knuckle down and come to a decision, and to have the boldness to follow it through.
Christ in the wilderness puts in the hard thinking, does the analysis, works through the situation to find the mind of God – and so Scripture comes to his aid as he explains his decisions. May we equally, in our Lenten discipline and in our Lenten spiritual journey of prayer and worship, engage fully with all that life and reality throws at us, work through it, and find the mind of God. And then God’s Holy Spirit will enable us to put into practice everything that she has taught us.
by church news | Mar 5, 2017 | Sermons
How are your Lenten preparations going? Tuesday is Pancake Day – have you bought your supplies yet? And Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, as miserable a day as the Church has yet to invent, apart, perhaps, from the end of the Maundy Thursday service, as betrayal sets in train the inevitable series of events that culminates in crucifixion. It is not exactly a week to look forward to, is it?! What other emotions are going through our minds in these last three days of plenty? What shall we give up for Lent? How feasible is that, given our work/family/health situation? Six weeks of grim-ness is an awfully long time – how can I legitimately cheer myself up during this rigorous season? Well, the days are getting longer, we are moving from snowdrops to daffodils and tulips, the spring migration is under way and it ought to be getting a little warmer. New life is bursting out all around us, and we are wrapped up in a little cocoon of self-imposed restrictions – but that is the point! As new life gathers around us, so new life springs up in the Church, a new life born of suffering and death, yes, but a new life of resurrection, never to die again.
And we are given a glimpse of that new life, in all its glory, in the story of the transfiguration. The true nature of Christ, unshackled by the limitations of a human body, is revealed to the disciples on the mountain-top and they are afraid, as well they might be. Jesus’s words to them as they cower on the ground, “get up and do not be afraid” are pretty similar to words that he will speak to them after the resurrection – fear is the dominant emotion in that first Easter week, followed rapidly by joy. So today, on the eve of Lent, we are given that glimpse of Christ in glory, the glory towards which we shall all be travelling as we journey through the depredations and trials of these upcoming 40 days of self-denial and hard discipleship.
But where is that glimpse given? On top of a mountain, in cloud and echoing voice – just where Moses had been when he collected the 10 Commandments but here the physical word of God is the man Jesus, not two carved blocks of stone. This mountain-top meeting with God is just that – in God’s very presence, and then these disciples will go back down the mountain in the presence of the self-same man they have seen in glory. How can they look at Jesus again, having seen him transfigured like this? How can they see Jesus, their friend and teacher, touching lepers, healing the sick, challenging the Pharisees, without seeing him in glory, on top of the mountain? He has surely changed, completely, for them, for ever.
And yet this Jesus whom they have seen transfigured they can abandon in the Garden of Gethsemane, they can deny in the High Priest’s house, they can hide from as he hangs on a Roman cross, they can disbelieve as he comes to them on that first Easter Sunday. Our very humanity is displayed in them, our weak, fragile humanity, as distinct from the glorious humanity and divinity as seen in Jesus transfigured before them. Even the sight of God in glory is not sufficient to take them through testing and dangerous times – how can we hope to have a good Lent, a purposeful Lent, a Lent that works, for we only have their report of the transfiguration, not the experience.
Of course we can’t, but we do have one advantage over the disciples, in that we have received the Holy Spirit to live in our hearts and direct our ways, and there are more of us than the 12 disciples, so mutual support and creative ways of helping each other are much more numerous than in their time. Also, we come in the wake of 20 centuries of Christian practice, with examples a-plenty and enough reference material to fill several very large cathedrals – we are not short of ideas and help in these matters.
So, we have two things to get on with: three days of freedom to worship and to live in the glory of God, and three days to plan for a good Lent, informed by those three days of glory. Just because it is Lent does not take away the glory. Just because it is Lent, we do not lose our freedom to worship and to live in the light of Christ. We are merely adjusting our lives to bring them closer into line with Christ’s wilderness experience, as we long for the glories of Easter.
Our Lenten observation is a personal thing, special to us and not necessarily for sharing with others, but there are one or two pointers that can be given.
Firstly, Churches Together in Kew have organised a series of Lectures at 8pm on the Monday evenings of Lent, to look at how charities respond to crises, the motivations behind their establishment and the work that they do to maintain those goals. The series is launched on Tuesday at 8pm at the Barn, with Prayers and Pancakes – an opportunity to worship together and to start thinking together.
Secondly, each Lent we are called by our Bishop to support one of his Lenten causes, and our linked diocese of Matabeleland is always top of his list. Matabeleland is the poorest of the provinces of Zimbabwe, it has been devastated the most by farm clearances and the collapse of the Zimbabwean economy – unemployment runs currently at 80% in the country. The churches do their best to witness to Christ in the daily struggle for a decent living, but it is our solemn Lenten duty to support their work practically – next Sunday, donation envelopes will be available for a generous offering of ourselves to help our linked brothers and sisters in Christ in Bulawayo and its surrounding region.
Thirdly, Ash Wednesday, which is this week, will be celebrated at the Barn at 8pm and that service, which is for everybody, will also be the starting point for the group of people from the parish who are preparing for confirmation. It would be a great day to join this small group, to study together before meeting the Bishop at Christchurch East Sheen on 18th June. If you or someone you know would like to get confirmed, just turn up on Wednesday, (but it would be nice to know beforehand).
Fourthly, of the making of books about prayer and the Bible for Lenten study there shall be no end – we still have time to get one – go online when you get home and will be delivered to you before you can say “Goodness me, it’s Lent again.”
May we be blessed together and individually this coming Lent, as we bask in the glory of Christ revealed on the mountain-top, and walk in his light and the strength of his Holy Spirit. May our Lent be productive, joyous and a cause of spiritual growth, that will bring glory to God and a more vigorous discipleship, in our prayer, our study and our life together.
by church news | Feb 1, 2017 | Sermons
In every story there is a central hub, a pivot around which everything turns. In today’s Gospel reading, which part is that pivot? Is it the setting – a wedding with an embarrassing lack of wine? Is it the relationship between Jesus and his mother? Is it the miracle of the water turned into wine? No, it is that reference, seemingly in passing, to the purpose of these six stone jars – Jewish rites of purification. It is not any old jug of water that Jesus turns into wine, it is a particular stock, whose purpose has been completely transformed.
We need to get to a level of understanding of why this is so central to Jesus’s ministry, and why it is still so important for us today.
Ritual cleanliness was at the centre of Jewish life. The rules surrounding it were complex, and in a small place like Cana, a two-horse town to the west of Lake Galilee, 180 gallons of water were needed to keep everyone in the village ritually clean. This water was not for washing your hands after they had got a bit muddy while working in the field, or sticky while cooking – there was different water for that. This water was for the rite of purification in the morning, after a night’s sleep, this water was for the rite of purification, with prayers, before going outside, on coming indoors, on greeting relatives and friends, on welcoming guests to the house. This water kept the people of Cana ritually clean through all the different seasons of the year, through all the different phases of the day and the night, and it was extremely burdensome. Everything that everybody did could involve ritual washing with prayer, and generally it did, and failure to wash in this way could lead to exclusion from social activities, even exclusion from village life, and eventually exclusion from the worshipping life of the nation.
These six stone jars, massive in their appearance, centrally placed within the village, dominated people’s lives and everyday activities – and it is their content that Jesus transforms into wine – wine of the very best quality, to celebrate a wedding. A wedding? Which wedding? The wedding that Jesus and his disciples were attending? Or another? The wedding of heaven and earth, the spiritual union which is Christ with his church – this is wine we are talking about, the wine of heaven, the wine of Christ’s blood, the sacred outpouring of God to redeem and to bind to himself all of humanity. This is no ordinary wedding, where 180 gallons of the best vintage are suddenly made available to the guests. No, this is a turning point in the life of the world, when water for ritual cleanliness is replaced with the wine of celebration, the wine of remembrance, the new wine of the Kingdom of God.
No more ritual washing is required, when Christ is present. No more ritual washing is needed in our everyday lives, just a consciousness of the presence of God to enfold, to redeem, to save. Instead, we have the wine of joy, the wine of new life, the wine that only God can give as he lifts us out of ritual obedience into a new life of freedom and delight.
Some water remains, some ritual water, but that is the water of baptism, in which Christ joins us to himself and in which we rejoice. That water will remain precious, ritualistic, holy, for in it God washes us clean once and only once, and then the job is done for the whole of our lives. In that water, God puts his holy life inside ours, making us holy for all eternity. In that water, we die with Christ, so that we may live Christ’s risen life in the world. That’s plenty of ritual water, all the ritual water we need – the rest is miraculously transformed into joy in the presence of God, joy in the sharing of bread and wine, joy in the sharing of fellowship with our brothers and sisters in Christ, here, and all over Kew, and around the world.
So no, the story of the wedding at Cana is not about marriage, but about burdens of ritual being lifted and replaced with the wine of delight. The bishops may well have messed up, once again, on the inclusivity of modern marriage, but we here will continue to delight in God’s all-encompassing, all-welcoming joy, for there is room for everybody, for every expression of the multiplicity of God-created humanity, and we here will rejoice together in that new wine.
by church news | Jan 28, 2017 | Sermons
There are two things going on this morning: baptism and unity, all sauced with a serendipitous clerical joke involving the family names of those being baptised here and at St Luke’s. Here, two Bishops are being baptised, while at St Luke’s a Crockford is being added to the family of God. Why this is hilarious, you may well ask, but the reason is simple: if you want to know where your bishop went to university, or what her middle name is, you can look them up in Crockford’s Clerical Directory – and yes, there is a direct family link to that most influential of clerical printers – enough to make us all weep with laughter, were our lives not a whole lot richer than the purveyors of clerical humour.
Now, baptism and Christian unity are unlikely bedfellows, as one of the causes of division in the Church over the centuries has been two radically different attitudes to baptism – is it a sacrament that allows God to work for the rest of the individual’s life, or is it the public acknowledgement of a faith that has already been growing for some time before? Anglicans, of course, hold both views, but that is only to be expected. What we are doing today is very much the former – a public sacrament that puts God’s Holy Spirit directly into the lives of these children who are being baptised this morning, after which their knowledge of God will grow through the help and support of their parents, godparents and this worshipping community. But catch-up baptisms are not unknown – the oldest person I have ever baptised was 81, and she had just never got round to being baptised, even though she had encouraged many others to take that path, and baptism after conviction by faith is still an option.
For us this morning, what we are about is a combination of what John the Baptist had been doing in Israel prior to Jesus appearing on the scene, and Jesus calling his disciples. John’s baptism was one of repentance, a washing clean and giving a fresh start – we are doing that this morning. Jesus’s call to Peter & Andrew and James & John was a life-changing shift in direction – from the business of fishing to the business of soul-catching – and we are doing that as well this morning, for from today on, these children’s lives will never be the same – they have been called by God, this morning, by name, and God will never let go of them, and will keep on calling and chivvying and nudging and teaching and leading them all the days of their life.
And that is why Paul is so adamant that no one in the church in Corinth should be claiming to belong to a different or better grouping because of which person had baptised them. The person who did the baptising was merely the agent of God the Holy Spirit, Paul insists, and not a cause for either boasting or judging others.
This could go on still, if we wanted to. I met one of the Barn Ladies Group members who had been confirmed by Archbishop Cosmo Laing, who was standing in for the Bishop of Southwark because he lived in Kew at the time. There are some others around here who can claim to have been confirmed by Archbishop Desmond Tutu, at St Luke’s, a good few years ago – are such people more spiritual than others, or is their confirmation a bit more special than ours, carried out by just a Diocesan bishop or his suffragan? Of course not, but that was the sort of thing that was messing up church life in Corinth at the time, and Paul had to intervene to sort it out. Likewise, our baptism ought to be our great unity in Christ, and for many different strands of Christianity it is, but for others it has become a barrier, and we must do all we can to cross over that barrier, by love and mutual understanding.
One of the ideas we are going to be exploring as Christians together in Kew on Wednesday, up at the skool at 10am, is this idea of crossing barriers that we create ourselves. The Corinthian Church had created those barriers, we could so easily do it, but our calling at our baptism ought to lead us away from such thoughts and words, to actions of grace and generosity, where we love and include others rather than try to keep them out because of difference.
That having been said, our calling comes at a price. Peter & Andrew, after they are called to follow Jesus, leave their business, their livelihood behind. James & John do the same, and leave their father and workmates too. Now, I am not saying that these children will do the same to their parents, I am simply flagging up the nature of Christ’s calling – he calls us to be active in sharing his love, in demonstrating what God is like, and sometimes that is easy and wonderful, and sometimes that is hard and costly. May these children know only joy as they share Christ’s love through their life and their deeds, but we do have to be realistic. And it is in the field of Christian unity that some of the hardest acts will have to be performed: deeply held convictions that create barriers will have to be worked through so that those barriers can be crossed together, for the sake of Christ; entrenched positions and years of history may have to be compromised, for the sake of Christ.
Today’s baptisms are causes for joy and celebration, let there be no doubt. It is a wonderful thing to baptise children, and to share in the family’s joy. It is a wonderful thing to share in those children’s development as children of God, and may we all play our part in welcoming them, praying for them and encouraging them to grow in the faith. May our example of worship and teaching stir up Christ’s call in them, and may they know the fullness of Christ’s love, in their own lives and in their family life, all their days. Amen
by church news | Dec 6, 2016 | Sermons
It has been a while, hasn’t it?! A while since I have stood here and talked, a while since last we spoke of Advent, a while since the world was in such a torment as we see today. And all you really want to know about is what I got up to on my sabbatical – but you are going to have to wait for that, it will come out in dribs and drabs, little by little, case study by case study. A valuable time was had, though. I am much refreshed, refocused, bursting with ideas – I see your delight – and stories to tell. Of New Hampshire’s sugar maples, on fire in their autumn colours, of humpback whales off the coast of Massachusetts, of standing only 30 feet from a common loon…. pretty much like this morning, then.
But seriously…. we are in Advent, a new year for the Church, a new year for worship, a new year for prayer, a new year of anticipation of the work of God in our world, and us as part of that action. A year when once again we hope that swords will be beaten into ploughshares, and that nations will not learn war any more. But it is also a year of great uncertainty, as a result of a series of votes taken here and in the USA, and upcoming in France and Germany. Uncertainty for an ever-growing group of people, who fear discrimination and rejection, uncertainty for our liberal values of welcome, inclusion and tolerance. Advent sits uneasily between joyful anticipation and the uncertainty of what sort of intervention a returning Christ will entail.
The referendum and the American Presidential election have very effectively divided people at the same workplace, one against another, and people in the domestic context. Distrust simmers below the surface, which way we voted still matters to both sides, and it will only get aggravated by future developments. The spectre of fascism rises in France, a country where its devastating effects can still be remembered by some of its citizens, and where which side an individual or a village took in the resistance is still a live issue. How could they vote that way, we wonder, but we thought that about the referendum, and about Donald Trump.
No, we must be ready, we must be prepared, and we must do the work of prayer and thought and analysis, so that Christlike values of love, welcome, tolerance, inclusion and the like can and will remain at the centre of our community, can and will remain at the centre of our congregational life, can and will remain at the centre of our personal lives. And that is Advent living.
I read a play, during my sabbatical, that touched on the Flood: The Epic of Gilgamesh, a verse drama by Edwin Morgan of the ancient near eastern myth of the Sumerian king, Gilgamesh, and his wanderings. He comes across the man who built the boat and saved himself and the animals from the flood, Ziusura is his name, who, because he passed through the destruction, has remained for centuries the age he was when the flood came. Gilgamesh arrives in Ziusura’s country dressed in rags, weary, disorientated, lacking understanding. He leaves refreshed, clean and clothed, a king renewed in body and soul. Meeting the man who had survived the flood enables him to return to his kingdom an enlightened ruler, capable of welcome and inclusion, tolerance and joy in the other.
This is not an accidental parallel with Noah. This is an archetypal working through of trauma, both nationally and individually experienced, to rebuild a world corrupted by introspection and greed. The new world of Ziusura and Gilgamesh, of Noah and his family, is given a new opportunity by God to forge a new relationship with each other and with him. God limits himself in his promises to Noah – no more flooding the earth – with nothing but worship required from Noah and his family. Ziusura and his wife live out their days in joy and delight in the re-created order. The Advent message, however, is that God will act decisively when people are not expecting him to, and their surprise will be their pain, and their unpreparedness their loss.
I visited a number of social projects during my sabbatical as well as reading lots of plays – foodbanks, drop-in centres, winter night shelters – some of which were fairly recent in origin, others had been running for years and commanded budgets of £750k. A common theme running through them all was that simple, fluid management structures created a better environment for developing and sustaining the project, and that if parts of the management team – partners or trustees – had lost contact with the hands on work of the day to day experience, then the project suffered. At one project I visited, the staff had never met a trustee. At another, the staff member I spoke with had started as a volunteer, had been brought on as a trustee after a few years, and had then moved across to paid work within the project. The first project lead a hand-to-mouth existence, the second was flourishing, and has just branched out into the Wandsworth area.
The Church is a volunteer-based organisations, with a few paid professionals and a group of trustees/PCC members, and a field of work that is broad-ranging and forever shifting in emphasis and success. It alters with personnel, a moving population, groups of friends and reserves of energy and ideas. If we are to benefit as a parish from all the riches that are on offer to us with all of our people and our neighbours, then our working and management ways must be fluid and open and participatory.
I understand from Robin & Sarah that you have had a presentation on funding needs and practical assistance in the life of the parish, and that responses are coming in. Today, New Year’s Day, is a day of New Year’s resolutions, so, if you haven’t returned your response form, get it done today
I promised you dribs and drabs of my sabbatical, and you have had them. It has been light on jokes and heavy on serious issues, but this Advent is a crucial time for us to face up to the world, offer ourselves in prayer and service to God and his Church, and engage with the world in practical and life-changing ways. Maranatha! Come Lord Jesus.
by church news | Oct 16, 2016 | Sermons
By Rev Gail Smith.
In the name of God, Creator Redeemer and Sustainer:
“Hallelujah! I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart.
Have you ever stopped to think about your life as a gift? A gift from God? A precious gift, one to be cherished, something to be grateful for, even when things are hard and the world seems to be going crazy. The people in today’s stories from Kings and Luke’s gospel did not see their lives as something to cherish at the beginning of their stories. Gratitude came later.
In today’s story from the Old Testament we hear about Naaman, who is a commander of the army for the King of Aram. Aram was Aram Damascus which is present day central Syria. He has leprosy. His wife’s maid is from Israel. She tells her mistress that there is a prophet in Samaria that can cure him. In the end the news gets to the King of Israel who is afraid that Naaman is trying to pick a quarrel with him. Elisha, “a man of God,” hears of this and offers to cure Naaman. Elisha sends a messenger to Naaman telling him to go wash himself in the Jordan seven times to be made clean. Naaman, who was expecting something a bit more flashy, complains. Why the Jordan when there are other rivers to wash in? But his servants tell him if a prophet tells you to do something as simple as this, then why not do it? So, he washes and his flesh is restored. He is healed. Naaman then goes to Elisha praising God saying: “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel.”
I wonder do we always look for the flashy answer for things and miss the simple one right before us.
In Luke we find Jesus on his way to Jerusalem. Somewhere near Samaria. He comes upon ten lepers. Lepers in this story, unlike Naaman, usually kept themselves completely separate from society as they were considered unclean. One commentary on the story tells us that “their leprosy was not necessarily Hanson’s disease, the terrible wasting disease that we think of today as leprosy. Biblical leprosy included a variety of skin diseases such as ringworm or psoriasis. Some were highly contagious others not. Some are curable while others are not. Priests were responsible for the diagnosis and for deciding if someone was “cured,” therefore no longer considered unclean. “A diagnosis of leprosy was treated as a death sentence – in much the same way that a diagnosis of cancer or AIDS was treated a few decades ago. People tended to regard leprosy as a sign of God’s judgment.”
The ten in today’s gospel kept their distance as they called out to Jesus “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.” They recognized Jesus as a healer one of many traveling around Palestine at the time. Jesus doesn’t come over to touch them or to quiz them about their faith. He merely tells them to go to their priests. As they go they discover they are healed. Only one of the ten upon noticing what has happened stops to return to Jesus rather than continuing on his way to the priests. As he comes back he is shouting loudly, praising God. He throws himself at Jesus feet thanking him. As in the story of the Good Samaritan, the one who returns to give thanks is a Samaritan. Remember Samaritans for Jews are people to be associated with; this leper in a sense was then doubly unclean. Jesus tells him “get up and go on your way your faith has made you well.”
The one who turned back was more than just physically healed. Somehow, he knew that he had been touched by God. A commentator says (NIB*) “The point of the story is not the healing but the response of those who were touched by God’s mercy. The one healed “recognizes that God has acted through Jesus, and offers praise to God.”
Both stories are about how we see things and how we respond. Elisha and Jesus, both saw the need of someone who was a foreigner and they heal them. Both Naaman and the leper respond with joyful praise and thanks. So, what do we see? Do we see the need of others? Do we respond? When we have been helped, how do we respond? Do we give thanks? Do we ever pass others by who are different, who are strangers, whose lives may be a day to day struggle? Meda Stamper writes: The man healed was a Samaritan. Jesus was there for those who were living and existing at the margins of society, those considered unclean.” Who are the people at the margins of our society? And what about those who find themselves suddenly homeless as a refugee. Do we see them? Or do they remain unseen pushed to the margins, the edge by our fear? Do we see Jesus in them? Do we see Jesus with them, at the edge?
We could ask ourselves as one commentator asks (NIB)* “Is healing simply the natural process of nature or a sign of God’s Love?” The commentator goes on to say “Gratitude is maybe the purest measure of one’s character and spiritual condition. The absence of the ability to be grateful reveals self-centeredness; it can reveal an attitude that says “I deserve more than I ever get, so I do not need to be grateful.” Where are we on the gratitude scale? Do we take the time each day to be grateful?
Life itself is a gift. Health is a precious gift. The friendship of others, the love of family and friends are an overwhelming grace to be treasured and grateful for. So, again, what do we see? What do we do?
When we become aware of God’s grace, doors can open for us, our hearts can open and we can be filled with a sense of overwhelming gratitude for all that we have been given. Have there been encounters in your life when you have been given the opportunity to respond with the same spirit of gratitude that filled the leper who found himself healed? When are we like the one leper? When are we openly grateful? When are we like the other nine dutiful yet blind to what we have received?
Mark Nepo, a poet and spiritual writer wrote this in his book “The Book of Awakenings: “There is a deep paradox at work in us. For though we aspire to self-mastery and peace of mind, we are only momentarily whole. As conscious beings living in bodies, we are worn down by life . . . until we are freshly open to everything; there are moments of enlightenment, when clarity and compassion of centuries rise in us, and we are suddenly more than we are, only to trip on the garbage the very next day or to say something hurtful the very next minute to the one we love most.”
The leper had one of those moments of enlightenment when he knew he was healed and then turned to praise God and to thank Jesus with in his next breath. However, we do not know what he did the next day. His moment of revelation was in the present, when for that time he was fully aware of the grace and power of God’s love. I suspect we too know and recognize moments in our lives that are filled with grace. When life feels full and wonderful. It doesn’t mean that such moment last forever. Sadly, we still might do something that is hurtful to someone we love. We are after all fully human as God made us; gifted with life and the free will to do what God would wish us to do and to not to do. We all of us have within us the capacity to love and the capacity to turn away from God and God’s love.
Mark Nepo asks “How will we fully live? How will we live in such a way that the wonder of feeling out fuels the pain of breaking?” He goes on “ Faith seems crucial, the ability to inhabit the breadth and depth of our compassion, to know even in the dark center of our pain, that somewhere out of view there is joy and wonder, that even when we tumble we are a part of something larger than our own design.”
The leper could have gone with the others to return to his loved ones to celebrate his healing with them. Instead he felt compelled to turn and to praise God and to thank God for his new life.
So how do we live our lives? Are we grateful every day for both the small and large things in our life a baby’s grin, a hand held, a smile of joy in the face of pain? May we be open to that grace, and may we find ways to give thanks to God now today and again tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
NIB New Interpreter’s Bible volume on Luke
**(an online commentary)
