Valois United Church

2 Timothy 2:8-15
Psalm 66 VU 784, Part 1 & 2
Luke 17:11-19
Having leprousy isn’t easy.
I haven’t had this life as long as my friends - my “misery loves company” friends, nine of them. One of them is an oddball - he’s actually a Samaritan. Never spoke to a Samaritan before in my life before this happened.

You know. One day I’m washing and there is this spot on my skin. Can’t be, I say to myself. Anyhow, no-one can see it, so doesn’t really matter.... except day by day it gets bigger, until I can’t hide it. And someone saw it and demanded that I go to the priest. I went to the priest, and he looked at me, and then he recited a passage from the scriptures, from the book Leviticus: (13:2-3) “When a person has on the skin of his body a swelling or an eruption or a spot, and it turns into a leprous disease on the skin of his body, he shall be brought to Aaron the priest or to one of his sons the priests. The priest shall examine the disease on the skin of his body, and if the hair in the diseased area has turned white and the disease appears to be deeper than the skin of his body, it is a leprous disease; after the priest has examined him he shall pronounce him ceremonially unclean”.

And the priest recited this and looked away, and said: “You are unclean.” And he went to wash.

Well, being unclean has meant for the last few years I have not been able to be with my friends, my relatives, my wife or my children. I have not been able to live in the town.

And when I came into the town for any reason, I had to call out “Unclean, unclean”, or ring a bell, so that everyone could move away from me.... and away they would move, not only moving to safety, but not looking at me, not talking to me, not recognizing that I was even.... human.

Ten of us live in tents outside the town. We’d rather be dead. To our friends and relatives, we are already as dead. Maybe when we die they’ll collect our bodies. But probably not.

Sure, I understand. Everyone is afraid of this disease, this leprosy. But I still have a heart, and soul, a mind.

Yet my life has been stripped from me, and not by the disease, but by the attitudes of the people around me.

And I cannot understand “why me?” I am a faithful man, I follow the law and the regulations as well as anyone can, and go to Jerusalem for the high festivals, and the Synagogue the rest of the time.

But there it is.

Now, on this day I go into town with my friends. We’ve heard that Jesus is there - here in this place half-way between Samaria and Galilee, where teachers rarely travel. And as we arrive in town, as people scurry away from us, we see him. Now, we would love to run up to him, all of us as a gaggle, to see what he could possibly do to help us - even we have heard stories about this teacher - but we are unclean. So we keep our distance, and cry out to him: “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”

And he does nothing. He simply calls out to us “Go and show yourselves to the priests.”

And we turn, shrugging our shoulders, but we do go to see the priests. And as I am walking, I feel something different. The places that were numb - my fingers, my nose - I have feeling again. And I look down at my arms, and the patches are disappearing as I go.

What a wonderful day! I arrive with the eight others - I don’t know where the Samaritan went - and see the priests. And all of us are declared clean. The priests want to know how it happened - it is unheard of that something like this would happen with a group who have been unclean all this time - they want to know what happened, but we all shrug our shoulders. “We don’t really know”, we all say.

And I go back to my family. They don’t believe it at first, but when they do, they celebrate. And I celebrate. And I begin work at my old trade, and the customers come rolling in - some curious, some just happy for me. And they ask me how it happened. And I don’t know what to tell them.

Was it Jesus? Or was it just that the time had come? Or was it because I really did deserve to be well? Or was it because of something else?

I don’t know. But thinking too much can make you crazy. So I just live my life and get on with it.

......

I was also there that day. With my nine friends. Lived for 20 years without having those people want to talk to me. They would look away from me, they would avoid coming into contact with me - didn’t much want to do business with me, but money is money, I guess. All because I have a different religion. Different culture. Always been an outcast in some ways.

And then when I got that disease.... well, same rules for all. I was unclean too. Now those who would not speak to me before, who were themselves unclean - they lived together with me, outside of town.

But on this day we hear about this teacher Jesus. We go into town to see what’s up, and we cry out for mercy. And he tells us to go to the priests. I begin to head to my priest - a Samaritan priest. And on my way I am stunned to discover that I am clean, that the disease has left.

There is only one thing to do. It doesn’t matter that he is of one religion, I of another. It does not matter that his culture is different. I have to thank him, for he has given me my very life back. Sure, I am poor. Sure, my home is not a lot better than the tents that we have been living in. Sure, life is not wonderful in every way.

But I’ve got to appreciate what I’ve got.
And what I’ve got is my life back.
Now my family will be able to see me,
my children can hug me,
and I am no longer “unclean”,
I am human.

I must go back to Jesus and thank him.
I must thank him.

And as I live - as I can really live -
I will each day tell someone about what Jesus has done for me.

And his last words to me as I leave him echo in my ears:
“Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”
Indeed, I am well. I am healed. And I am well, right down to my soul.

Do we appreciate the gifts?

Ninety percent of the people whose lives Jesus touched that day just got on with their lives. Ten percent realized what was received, and gave thanks.

How often we don’t realize what we have - and so give thanks.

Some of you have real experience of the lives of people in other lands.
Who do not live as we do.
But we just get used to it.
We get so used to it, we begin to think we deserve it –
and why not more?
A better car? A bigger house? A new T.V. that stretches from wall to wall - all the better to watch the commercials that tell us that we deserve yet something else....

But the Samaritan in the story did not figure he deserved it.
Nor did he take the healing for granted.

He gave thanks.

And so again, just as I said last week - it is time to do inventory. And to realize how much we have. Starting with the basics.
We have water. Electricity. I dare say that all of us were warm enough through the night, and very few had drips of rainwater landing on them through the night. Most or all of us have food in the fridge - and a fridge to put it in.

Let’s not take it for granted.
Let us turn to God, let us turn to Jesus,
And give heartfelt thanks in deep appreciation.

And we, too, will be on the way to being well.