Luke 17:11-19
November 28, 2019
Thanksgiving Day
Dear Saints of Our Savior~
No matter how bad off a person may be—no matter how dire the circumstances—there’s one last shred of cold comfort that a lot of us hang onto: Somebody out there has it worse than me. You’d be surprised how often I hear that from people whose circumstances are rather grim. Maybe it’s not so much comfort or consolation they’re going for. Maybe it just helps to keep their own suffering in perspective. But rarely are things so bad for someone that they can’t at least say: Somebody out there has it worse than me.
Today we meet ten men who couldn’t say that—ten lepers whose lives were devoid of all comfort and all consolation. Leprosy itself was bad enough—an incurable skin disease which, in its worst forms, featured debilitating nerve pain, necrosis of the flesh, and even the prospect of a slow, painful death.
But leprosy was as much a social disease as a medical condition. It turned you into a pariah, an outcast. It isolated you from friends and family. You couldn’t come anywhere near the temple; you were cut off from worship. Nor could you keep your condition private. No HIPPA laws protected your medical history. There are two long chapters in Leviticus devoted to nothing but leprosy. Those chapters might be a dermatologist’s dream; but it’s rather tough sledding for the rest of us. Leviticus 13:45 describes the leper’s life this way: “The leprous person . . . shall wear torn clothing and let the hair of his head hang loose, and shall cover his upper lip and cry out, ‘Unclean, unclean.’ He shall remain unclean as long as he has the disease. . . . He shall live alone. His dwelling shall be outside the camp.” It’s hard to imagine a worse predicament or to think of someone with so little to be thankful for.
But things were about to change for the ten lepers in today’s text. Jesus was coming, on His way to Jerusalem to die and rise again for the life of the world. The lepers kept their distance from Jesus, but cried out in a loud voice. They didn’t cry out, “Unclean, unclean,” like they were supposed to. Their cry was, “Kyrie eleison.” Their prayer was, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.” “Lord, have mercy” is what you pray when your hands are empty and your heart is broken. “Lord, have mercy” is what you pray when your situation is so dire that only divine intervention can change things. Help and healing are what the lepers hoped for. They had been given reason to believe at least this much: that Jesus had the power to heal them and rescue them from the living hell of leprosy.
Leprosy is bad; but sin is even worse. The connection between leprosy and sin isn’t difficult to see. Sin is leprosy of the soul—a deep contamination and corruption of our humanity. Sin makes us unclean before God. It isolates us and divides us from other people. We all sounded a lot like lepers a few minutes ago when we cried out the leper’s mantra: unclean, unclean—sinful and unclean. Your sinful symptoms are manifold. You have the disease. You know it. You are as unclean as those ten lepers who pleaded with Jesus for mercy.
The miracle which then transpired in today’s text is very unusual. Typically, Jesus would touch the afflicted person, even if—especially if—that person was unclean. He typically touches the unclean and they become clean. But here Jesus doesn’t even cross the street. He simply shouts out His prescription: Go, show yourselves to the priests. That’s all He said. Leviticus explains how the priests served as health inspectors who would verify the healing and give the green light for a return to family and community and temple.
St. Luke doesn’t give us all the details about how this miracle happened. He simply states that, “As they went, they were healed.” At some point on their priestly pilgrimage, they began to notice that their leprosy was disappearing. They must have been thrilled and happy beyond all measure. Now they could go home. Now they could comb their hair and wear nice clothes because the Word of Jesus had made them clean. There would be celebrations with food and drink, perhaps not unlike the celebrations going on across our country on this fourth Thursday of November. Now they could head over the river and through the woods to grandmother’s house. Now they could go run that Turkey Trot/Drumstick Dash 5K. Now they could start to reassemble their wardrobe at some of those Black Friday sales.
But one of the ten stopped and turned around. One of the ten ran back to Jesus, threw himself at Jesus’ feet, and thanked Him. He worshipped. And at this point we learn that he was a Samaritan. Not only had he been a leper, he was one of those Samaritans—a double loser in the eyes of any self-respecting Israelite. But this loser—this foreigner—returned to give thanks to Jesus for the healing he had received. Ten out of ten were cleansed. But only one out of ten makes the Jesus connection and returns to worship and give thanks.
And it’s to this one that Jesus says, “Rise and go, your faith has saved you.” Not only had the Samaritan been healed, but something bigger and better was now going on. Now the Samaritan knew who to trust—not just with his health, but with his life, with his death, with everything. You might say that ten out of ten had faith to be healed; but only one out of ten had faith to be saved. That one knew at whose feet his salvation rested. Faith always returns to Jesus. Faith always gives thanks to Jesus.
And that’s why you are here today. Jesus didn’t linger for long with the lepers because He was on His way to Jerusalem where there was waiting for Him a cross with His name on it. There He took our place as one who was sinful, unclean, and cursed—so that you might be cleansed of every sinful stain. Today the risen Lord passes this way—here where His promises are preached—here where His holy body and blood are served up in the Sacrament as medicine for our souls—the medicine of immortality. Here we confess our uncleanness and cry out our kyrie eleison. Here we bend our knees as we pray, praise, and give thanks.
What Jesus did for that leper He has done for us. We have been cleansed of the leprosy of our sin. Jesus’ words have had their way with us. And like that leper, we keep coming back to Jesus where He has promised to meet us. We can trust Him with everything. We aren’t yet symptom-free, but the cure has been applied. Baptism now saves you. And one day—on the day of resurrection—your healing will finally be complete. The leprosy of sin will be a thing of the past. Nobody will have it better than you! And on that day you will again hear Jesus say these familiar words: Rise and go; your faith has saved you.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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