Sermon by the Rev. Sandy Montgomerie

A little girl was going to a party. Her mother told her to be a good girl and to remember when she was leaving to thank her friend’s mother. When she arrived home her own mother asked if she had said thank you when left the party and the little girl replied: ‘No! The girl in front of me did and the lady said, ‘Don’t mention it’ – ‘so I didn’t’.

I’m sure we can understand how that happened after all the little girl was only acting on what she had heard.

But what about these ten men who were healed by Jesus in the Gospel, how could they have missed such an opportunity to thank the person who had turned their lives around?

Perhaps that was all they knew. They were the outcasts of society, the bottom of the rubbish heap and they dared not approach anyone.

But with Jesus’ reputation you can imagine the dilemma they were in.

Maybe the conversation among them was something like this!

“I hear the Rabbi Jesus is coming to town with his followers, I really am itching to see him. Literally itching.

But when he comes I will only look, I won’t touch, not even grab his cloak as some people have done, I would not do anything so undignified, I shall just look I know my place, and that is somewhere out by the rubbish dump at the moment.

I keep a safe distance from all these healthy people. Those are the rules.

Everything in it’s place.

Yes, I have my faith of course, and I know that I don’t need to be touched.

This teacher can heal me at a distance, I heard a story where he healed a man he had never met, just as if he had sent orders by a slave.

I reckon he understands how this world is set up, the way we can’t really ever change the structures of masters and slaves, the clean and unclean, Jews, Samaritans, men and women. That’s it, everything in its place.

But master have pity, have mercy, they shout, no touching the likes of us, mercy requires no touch. Only at a distance.”

How sad it must have seemed for them, their societies view had trapped them.

There are still leper colonies today and some of them suffer terribly but there is no longer the great taboo and universal sense of horror about the disease, which can be controlled with drugs.

The Leprosy Mission is one international Christian charity with almost 140 years of experience. Through The Leprosy Mission’s global family they serve in around 30 leprosy-affected countries.

The World Health Organisation continues to report that “Leprosy remains a poverty linked disease adding that this most ancient of diseases should not by rights have been allowed to enter the 21st Century, “Of all the diseases that plague humanity, leprosy has the most history, with its victims shunned and treated as social outcasts”.

Here we see the message of Jesus from today’s gospel, despite all the stigma and fear, ministered to the victims of this de-socializing and taboo-ridden disease.

He heard their appeal and responded.

He did not preach to them or call them to make any sort of commitment; he simply listened and healed them.

Sometimes words are the wrong thing to use in certain circumstances, what can you say to people whose lives have been rocked by tragedy?

Well maybe listening is the first step and helping where you can. Making statements don’t really help, simply because there are no easy answers to why certain things happen in people’s lives.

And secondly because it is doubtful if people can take in much of what is said when their minds are anxious and frightened.

People in any kind of shock or despair are not searching for explanations, they are crying out for comfort, back to a basic need to feel they are not alone.

They want to know that someone cares; they need to feel arms round them, something, and someone, to ease the pain.

God’s love becomes real in life, not through talk or sermonising, but through quiet listening.

What is needed is time, maybe even tears, but what is certainly not needed is logic.

When Paul wrote his letter to Timothy, Paul with all his experience of pain and persecution, knew that one thing had helped him through his ministry, and that was he affirmed “I know whom I have believed”.

Paul believed in a person, not in a philosophy. It wasn’t ideas or words, but a presence who gave him the courage to go on.

If we are ever faced with desperate people, isn’t our job to crystallise God’s love and presence through ours.

The explanation of our faith and what it means to us might come later when people realise they are loved.

The encounter between these ten unnamed outcasts of society and Jesus whom they call master becomes the occasion they experience the love and action of God in healing.

These ten lepers in the little colony on the road between Samaria and Galilee were all healed.

And only one came back to offer praise and thanksgiving. He was possibly doubly grateful, because not only was he a leper, he was also a Samaritan, a member of a community who were held in fear and suspicion by the main body of the Jewish people.

How much of an outsider can you be? Well this man knew how much.

And I think Jesus is saying something else here as well, because he heals this man who would be regarded as “unchurched” he was not even a Jew, so, his healing is not limited to those who would be seen as ‘the faithful’.

Because Jesus says to this outsider “Get up and go your way, your faith has made you well”. It was a strange thing to say to someone who was out with the faith as accepted by Judaism.

I wonder if Jesus might not have been saying, Your faith has made you well, don’t go on and on thanking me, get on with your life; your faith, your recognition of your own helplessness and your openness to a new and living way have made the difference.

Now you have a chance to live a different way, give it all you have got.

Well whatever happened to the other nine we do not know, if they showed any gratitude it certainly is not recorded.

What Jesus advises is get themselves off to the priests, who represented the social organisations and institutions of that time, what we might call the social services.

The isolation in which they had lived would certainly have alienated them from any social structures.

So what Jesus does in this first act is to be the bridge which gives them a way back to these resources and from there on into the rest of society.

Whether we think these others were mean or small minded not to take the time thank

Jesus for his healing does not really matter, and maybe it shows us that his love is great enough to leave us free to make our own decisions, Jesus never forces us to honour him.

I think it is true that people pray more when they are suddenly aware of their own frailty and vulnerability.

But if we can stay with God right through to thankfulness we shall be doubly blessed and the kingdom of God will be that much closer.

Sometimes we can be abruptly made aware of how thankful we should be.

I am a chaplain at a school for children with profound learning difficulties. The first time I visited my first thought was what on earth could be done to help these children. It was after what can only be described as a miracle during the first assembly that I discovered God loved these children just as much as each of us here. It gave me a new vision and each time I visit the school I treat each child as I would any other. But that said, I am also acutely reminded how fortunate so many of us are by comparison.

I would like to finish with this short poem which I think helps to remind us to be thankful for all we have.

Thanksgiving

Today upon a bus, I saw a lovely maid

with golden hair;

I envied her—she seemed so gay—and

wished I were as fair.

When suddenly she rose to leave, I saw

her hobble down the aisle;

She had one foot and wore a crutch, but

as she passed, a smile.

Oh, God, forgive me when I whine;

I have two feet—the world is mine!

And then I stopped to buy some sweets.

The lad who sold them had

Such charm, I talked with him—he said

to me;

'It's nice to talk with folks like you.

You see,' he said, 'I'm blind.'

Oh, God, forgive me when I whine;

I have two eyes—the world is mine!

Then, walking down the street, I saw a

child with eyes of blue.

He stood and watched the others play;

It seemed he knew not what to do.

I stopped a moment, then I said:

'Why don't you join the others, dear?'

He looked ahead without a word,

and then I knew he could not hear.

Oh, God, forgive me when I whine;

I have two ears—the world is mine!

With feet to take me where I'd go,

With eyes to see the sunset's glow,

With ears to hear what I would know,

Oh, God, forgive me when I whine;

I'm blessed, indeed! The world is mine. (Anon)