Lectionary Readings for Sunday, October 14, 2007

Lectionary Readings for Sunday, October 14, 2007

Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7, with Psalm 66:1-12 or
2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c with Psalm 111
2 Timothy 2:8-15
Luke 179:11-19

Life has a language.
And scripture has a word for us.

With these two thoughts we turn to the familiar rhythms of the Lectionary which has been waiting three years to bless us with unexpected insights found in unexpected places.

We would not expect Jeremiah’s word to the captives in Babylon that instead of seeking revenge they are to “seek the welfare of the city.”

We would not expect a Hebrew prophet to take an interest in the healing of an Assyrian general.

We would not expect healings that have nothing to do with medicine.

We would not expect to find much life in a place beset with warnings: lepers must stay away, Samaritans and Hebrews must not engage in conversation; Galilean Greeks and Romans living in tension with the peoples they were there to subdue.

We would not expect, just two weeks after learning that Dives’ plea for mercy could not and would not be answered, that ten lepers would plea for mercy.

We would not expect to find scripture devoted to nothing less than the crossing of chasms that separated so many from life.

We would not expect to find not one but three communities working to re-establish connection: a band of lepers who stayed together when no others would receive them; the band of disciples who noticed that Jesus took notice if a plea for mercy; and the priests who lovingly reached out to the cured lepers and welcomed them back into fold with exquisite compassion.

And, most of all, we would not expect to find a word of healing that can guide the lives of both the millions of people who opt for life in a medical system that breaks their financial back and those very institutions.

If we are to look for life we must often go to unexpected places. Like Jesus, we must travel and “see what happens.”

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, ‘Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!’ When he saw them he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean?” But the others, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”

The initial teachings are so clear we are tempted to bask in the cadence of a children’s sermon. It is useful, and necessary, to remind us to give thanks, to understand that gratitude is an essential part of healing, to realize again and again that the giving of thanks is far more important than racial, religious, or economic identities. It is useful to recognize that although he did not touch them Jesus took note of those who were accustomed to being ignored. The children’s sermon cannot be taught too many times.

But then we resume our search for meaning and begin to notice what we had initially not noticed. The healing happened as the lepers made their way to the temple. Perhaps there was a stunning moment when, like a stream of light breaking through an afternoon’s thundercloud, their faces were suddenly made as clean as Namaan’s when he arose from his bath in the Jordan. Both healings happened in an instant, but both were part of a process. The road leading to chronic disease is a long one; the road that leads from chronic disease to healing is even longer necessitating many cries for mercy and many layers of community.

Once the lepers arrived at the temple, how did the priests greet them? We turn to Leviticus 14 for an answer that an NRSV footnote qualifies by saying the text “has archaic elements that elude explanation.” Without meaning to the footnote speaks to the mystery of chronic disease that so often eludes a cure. But no matter . . . The priests see the cleansed lepers and ask that two birds be brought forward. One is sacrificed over fresh water; the other is “let go into the open field.” Thirty-one verses describe what the priests are to do as they receive the no-longer lepers back into the arms of the community. The 32nd verse concludes the passage with the words, “This is the ritual for one who has a leprous disease, who cannot afford the offerings for his cleansings.”

We realize the ancient ritual that speaks to those whose disabilities once sent them apart, to those who opt for life but are unable to foot the bill for medical care, and to the church that was essential to healing. Was it Jesus’ word that prompted the healing? Was it the faith of a Samaritan leper? Was it the return to the temple? Whatever the cause it came from the heart of the temple. We find ourselves in the presence of a healing community that has the courage to count both the cost of healing and the freedom it provides. One bird is sacrificed, and one is set free in an open field. Provisions are made when one cannot pay. Jesus, the lepers, and the priests all crossed the chasms that without devotion to life might have forever separated them.

I write these words and share these reflections with for children and children’s sermon in mind. I think of the children I met last summer at a cancer camp, whose lives are a blessing of such grace and power, and I think of the ways in which paying for their care is a virtual impossibility for their families. What is to be done? How can the disability of chronic disease not lead to shame? How can an acceptable sacrifice be found?

Is there a cost to healing? There is.

Is there a burden to be lifted? There is.
Ten lepers, the temple priests, and Jesus show a way for us to return to life.

Larry