The Nine and the One

Proper 23 C 2010
Jer 29: 1, 4-7; Ps 66: 1-11; 2 Tim 2: 8-15; Luke 17: 11-19

“The other nine—where are they?”

The table is set and the food is laid out. The invitations have been sent, some have RSVP’d, others have not. The hour for dinner arrives, and the host glances nervously out the front window. She thinks she hears a soft tap at the door, then realizes it was her hopeful imagination. What shall I do with all this food?

“The other nine—where are they?”

Anyone who has planned a party can recognize the wonder and the frustration in Jesus’ voice. Anyone who has planned church events can identify with Jesus’ question. The work party, the special liturgy, the stewardship event—yes, our lives are complicated, and even getting to Sunday Mass seems to take special effort even for the most committed. Chances are we can all identify with Jesus who wonders aloud at the small response to a healing received. Chances are we have also sometimes been among the absent “nine.”

It is not my intention to preach a “make you feel guilty if you don’t show up for things” sermon. But today’s Gospel does invite us into reflecting deeply about our response to Jesus’ voice and action in our lives. Like that day on the road, Jesus does amazing things for us—he heals, he calls, he sends, he gives new meaning and purpose, he even brings us back to life. Today we are among that mystical band of ten lepers who needed so much and asked for so much. At first there were ten. Then there was one, and nine. One was different in response. That one received much more.

Let’s not forget that all ten lepers did things the right way. They respectfully obeyed the taboos for lepers and kept some distance between themselves and Jesus. They acknowledged that Jesus could do something wondrous for them—“Jesus, Master, have mercy!” And Jesus responds and gives them what they ask. He sends the ten on a journey of obedience both to himself and to the Law of Moses—“Go and show yourselves to the priests.” They obey, they set out, and they are made clean.

There is nothing wrong with any of this. We never learn if the now-clean lepers complete their journey and show themselves obediently to the priests. According to the Law, only the priests can pronounce a leper clean so they can re-join the community. I imagine that most if not all of them fulfilled that journey, and ended up at the Temple, obeying Jesus and obeying the ancient Law.

But there was one who did things differently, one who actually disobeys the letter of the Law and even the letter of what Jesus said. He returns to the place where he was a leper and Jesus was his only hope for healing. He lays down in a lovely Middle Eastern bow—not at the Temple, not before the priest, but before the Jesus who is himself healing and hope.

And he was a Samaritan, a foreigner. Nine were made “clean”, nine obeyed the Word and customs—but only one soke his thanks aloud, only one was pronounced “well.”

Today our own church community is a mix of the long-time faithful, the new seekers, the casual fringe, and the involved well-wishers from “outside.” Sometimes it is these outsiders who make our events and our ministries work. When this happens, I sometimes think of this story of the ten lepers.

It is a wonderful thing to be a church which knows Jesus and which prays to him for healing and life. It is a wonderful thing to obey the word of Jesus and of our wise tradition. It really is good to be one of the “nine.”

But what would it be like to make the extra journey, to take a new leap, to be one with that grateful Samaritan? What would it be like to be a community which was also “made well”?