Boundaries
Pentecost 21 (C) – Proper 23 for St. Francis’ Episcopal Church
October 13, 2013
Luke 17: 11-19
The Rev. Jeri Gray-Reneberg
Good morning, friends. Please excuse me; I’m a little out of
breath. I’ve been sharing the exciting event that happened to me
the other day – sharing with anyone who will listen. Will you
listen to my story for a few minutes?
First of all, I am a Samaritan. You need to know that, because it
makes a difference to my story. My people live in Samaria, the
area south of Galilee and north of Judea, and consider the holy
mountain to be Mount Gerizim, not the Temple Mount in
Jerusalem. Several years ago, I was living in the far north, close
to Galilee, married and with a family, and one day I noticed
patches of unusual-looking skin on both wrists. Before I knew
it, the thick skin with lumps and bumps had spread over most of
my body. It became hard to keep my balance as I walked, and
my voice became hoarse and guttural. Soon, I couldn’t feel my
fingers and toes, and I knew it might mean that I could injure
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them without knowing it, and maybe even lose them. I realized
that this was one of the most dreaded diseases – leprosy. By
this time, I had been exiled to the area outside the village where I
had spent my whole life, a village right on the border with
Galilee. There were other lepers there, and we had a community
of sorts, a community of suffering and pain. Even in this area,
lepers are required to keep away from healthy or “clean” people.
If healthy people accidentally come too close, closer than six
feet or so, by your measurement – we are required by the purity
codes to warn them by calling out, “unclean!”
Because of where I lived, many of the others with this disease
were also Samaritans, but some were Jews. Usually, we kept
away from each other. Old hatred and distrust is hard to erase, I
guess. Sometimes, though, I would sidle up to a group of Jews
just to hear what they were talking about – maybe they were
saying something I needed or wanted to know, like if a particular
person was known for giving something to those of us who beg
for food.
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On this particular day, I was within a few feet of a group of
Jewish lepers. Suddenly, their attention became fixed on one
man surrounded by several others, who was just about to enter
the village. I had no idea who this man was, but they were
excited. They had heard of this man. Together, they began to
call: “Jesus – Master – have mercy on us!” I thought, if this man
could help them, maybe he could help me, too! Maybe he was a
prophet or something. So I sidled a little closer to the group and
added my pleas to theirs, waiting to see what might happen.
At this point, the man named Jesus stopped, turned, and looked
at us. I didn’t know what he would do from this distance. He
said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” Well, this was a
little awkward. I didn’t know why he would ask us to go into the
nearby Jewish village, and I knew I wouldn’t be welcome, but I
was curious. I tagged along after the group as they began to
walk in the direction of the Galilean Jewish priests.
And as I began to walk… my stiffness, numbness and muscle
weakness was disappearing. I actually felt light on my feet! And
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then I dared to look at my hands. The ugly, thick patches of skin
were gone! My fingers and toes were whole and strong!
The others began to notice changes in their bodies, also. They
were talking excitedly, and they hurried to show themselves to
the priests, who would verify that they had been healed and
could return to their former lives.
But as for me… I stopped in the road. I began to praise God in
my new, strong voice. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was rush
back and thank this wonderful healer! I ran back and threw
myself at his feet in thanks. He spoke to the others around him:
“Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?
Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except
this foreigner?”
I couldn’t speak for the others – after all, I had disobeyed his
command to show myself to the priests! And I didn’t mind him
calling me a foreigner! Somehow, as a tag-along, I had received
some of the healing meant for the others. He needed to know
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that, although I wasn’t a Jew, I was grateful for my health, my
life!
Then he said words I’ll never forget: “Get up and go on your
way; your faith has made you well.” But I didn’t HAVE any faith
when I first called out, or when I tagged along with the others.
At least, not much to speak of. I was just seizing the
opportunity.
All I know is, my whole life has changed. I am back in my
village, back with my family and community. I am truly healed.
My body and spirit are whole, and new possibilities have now
opened up! And I can’t stop talking about it!
(PAUSE)
Luke says that Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, somewhere in
the region where Galilee meets Samaria – we don’t really know
where, but somewhere in the boundary lands. Not specifically
one or the other. He is also coming from the outskirts of the
village into the village, again on the boundaries, when he is
interrupted by people clamoring for his mercy and help. These
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ten people were suffering from the disease of leprosy, which
might have been what we know today as “Hansen’s Disease,” or
it might have been one of a number of other skin diseases.
These people were among those known as “the unclean,”
ritually impure people, forced by the purity code to live apart
from others. Extremely vulnerable people, who may have been
surprised to find Jesus in this place of ambiguity, there on the
boundaries of the village – so they take advantage of this
opportunity to cry out for help.
In contrast to the others, who were only made “clean,” we are
told that the Samaritan outsider crying out loudly and throwing
himself in gratitude at Jesus’ feet has been made “well.” The
Greek word translated as “well” in the New Revised Standard
Version might also be read as “saved,” as in “your faith has
saved you.” So this Samaritan, a representative of a marginal
people in Jewish eyes, himself living “on the boundaries,” of
geography and health, finds the wholeness of salvation, in
addition to being cured of his illness.
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And the only difference between this man and the others – who
are only doing what they have been told to do to satisfy the
purity code – the only difference is that he turns back and
thanks Jesus. The difference is that he has allowed the grace of
Jesus’ healing to penetrate his heart. He has allowed himself to
be overwhelmed by the whole experience.
Yesterday, seven of us from St. Francis’ were blessed to receive
anti-racism training from the diocese. Several of us pointed out
that the word “anti-racism” was not comprehensive enough. We
were confronted by the effects of privilege and brought to
consider the experiences of those who were not born or raised
with particular forms of privilege – such as being white, or an
American, or a male, or a Christian, or heterosexual.
In the case of this story, the primary privilege is that the nine
other lepers are Jewish. They have been displaced from their
communities because of their disease, but they will easily fit
back into their communities now that they have been healed.
They may be grateful, but they will do as they have been told to
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do, which is the way to regain access to their communities, by
having the priests pronounce that they are clean enough to
return.
The Samaritan, on the other hand, is in the boundary between
communities. He won’t be going with the others to the Jewish
priests, although he might show the Samaritan priests what was
done for him by the Jewish rabbi.
It is Jesus who draws our attention to the fact that this man is a
foreigner. It seems strange that he seems to be yearning for the
other lepers, the Jewish ones, to return. This Samaritan has
shown them up in his gratitude, in his courtesy. It would be like
treating your child and a friend to a one-of-a-kind experience,
only to find that your child feels almost entitled, and does not
feel the degree of gratitude that the friend feels and expresses.
There is no sense of privilege, or feeling entitled, on the part of
the Samaritan. His experience is that someone who had no need
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to come to the boundary places met him there. This Jesus
responded to his pleas for mercy and healing.
From the time we are young, we learn to distinguish. “Which of
these things is not like the others?” we hear on children’s
television. For what purpose? we might ask.
Jesus throws his grace upon the whole group, although he
doubtless knows that one is not like the others. And would he
have withdrawn his healing if none of them had returned to give
thanks? I can’t see Jesus doing that. They would all have been
made clean anyway. But one, in returning to give thanks, has, in
addition, been made well, has been saved.
We learn here that Jesus heals indiscriminately. That he travels
to boundary places to find us, bringing healing and salvation.
His gospel, his people, are still able to do that.
Where are the boundaries you might cross, to bring wholeness,
health, and the good news of God’s love in Christ? Our Lord not
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only meets you in your boundary places, he goes with you to
find the boundary places of others.
Our work together in this place is the liturgy, from the Greek
word leitourgia, “the work of the people.” And we carry our
liturgy into the world of boundaries and foreign places.
We hear echoes of our liturgy in these words: “Lord, have
mercy!” “Thank you!” And then, Jesus’ benediction, which we
hear and share: “Get up and go on your way; your faith has
made you well.”
Amen.
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