One Out Of Ten Isn't All That Bad
Preaching
The Miracles Of Jesus And Their Flip Side
Miracle narratives from the Revised Common Lectionary with a fresh look at the other side of the story
The fulfilled life of discipleship is constant gratitude,
knowing the marvelous grace-gift God has tendered
to heal us of our maladies and natural sinfulness.
We are to care for this creation's resources thankfully.
Tom Brokaw, on the NBC evening news on Thanksgiving eve, said, "When we sing the dirges, we must also sing the anthem." He went on to say we must "... recognize not only the miseries of life but also the joys." So it is being a sinner and living in an imperfect world.
Our Gospel story makes a similar point. Luke, who often writes about healings because of his medical expertise, emphasizes a favorite theme of his: the universality of God's salvation and the consideration of Samaritans as God's people.
You know the story well by now. We usually read it on Thanksgiving. Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem where he would go to the cross for our forgiveness. Ten lepers, at the edge of a little town where they were forced to live because of that malady, shouted out a request that he cure them. Jesus told them to go to their priest, a common way Jews were proven cleared of their skin disease and pronounced safe to re-enter into the life of the community again. On their way to do so, they were cured.
One returned to find Jesus and thank him. The one who returned was not a Jew as you might expect, but was a person the Jews thought of as pagan -- he was a Samaritan who was the son of a Jew marrying a Gentile. Jesus showed disappointment that the others did not return to show their appreciation as well. He commended the Samaritan for his faith and sent him on his way.
Leprosy was a horrible disease. Not only were the dreadful physical symptoms slowly rotting away their bodies, but also the wretched way they were marginalized and treated by the community was devastating. I saw it several places in the world. We Christians have two leper colonies in Liberia, West Africa, called "Ganta" and "Little Ganta," located on the only "coal-tar road" going north and south in the country. I believe it was the Methodists who have led the way in a very compassionate ministry there. The disfigurement of the residents is difficult to observe, but everything is done to bring the compassion and healing of Christ to them.
Weekly Jesus works again the miracle of making them clean of the dreaded skin diseases with the use of up-to-date medications and therapy. They are healed and they thank God in their little chapel over and over again.
Near the village of Zorzor, south of Ganta, is "Little Ganta." Here the science is not yet as advanced. The facilities are a safe distance from Zorzor and the thatched roof, mud-sided huts are much more primitive. Those who live there are the products of earlier days when leprosy was without hope of a cure. It is a pitiful sight. Yet, in their affliction, they came together to thank God they have each other.
Perhaps that's the first thing we ought to look at today. In Luke's story we notice that these ten outcasts were a mixture of Jew and Gentile (Samaritan). Isn't it interesting how adversity can draw us closer to each other? An earthquake, hurricane, fire, flood, or war seems to cause us to reach across those many barriers which otherwise, in good times, separate us. Perhaps that's one of the blessings God can give to us when we are devastated by the traumatic events of our lives. Those barriers of race or creed or class or ethnic origin or sexual preference, which we artificially and demonically erect, God erases when we no longer have the luxury to observe them.
It's not the major teaching of this miracle of healing, but it does say loudly to us to rid ourselves of those perverse prejudices and hatreds we somehow learn over the years. That is not the way God would have us see each other. Like those lepers, we are all in need of God's mercy and salvation. That should bring us together as one people who cry out in one voice, "Jesus, Master, have pity on us!" (Luke 17:13b).
Here is really the heart of this story: Ten were given health and new life and only one of them returned to express gratitude to Jesus. I'm sure Jesus wasn't disappointed that day because he didn't receive more praise, but rather, that those nine didn't begin a new kind of life of appreciation like the Samaritan. It was nice for the one thanked, but much more so for the one who did the thanking. They were new people with a different perspective on life and God's role in it. He wanted that for them to go along with their starting over as clean and healthy. But it was not to be.
When the Israelites came into the promised land after that very long time in the wilderness, God warned them of the danger of ingratitude: "When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the Lord your God for the good land he has given you. Be careful that you do not forget the Lord your God ..." (Deuteronomy 8:10-11a).
When I voice disappointment in my children, grandchildren, or close friends for whom I have done something nice, my wife will say, "Jerry, you shouldn't have done it expecting to be thanked." She's right. But I so want those I love to know the richness of a life of thankfulness. It's the crown and completion of our faith. To live in that kind of graceful attitude is to face life's problems and frustrations in a very different way. It's really God's special equipment for us to receive as a gift as well. I want that blessing for all of us and Jesus wanted it so much for all ten he had healed.
"Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine?" (Luke 17:17). Here is disappointment that the nine would not know the joy of a life of gratitude like the one. Their faith would remain puny, to be a backup in times of life's serious crises rather than faith permeating all of life with a wonderfully resilient joy of appreciation.
I wonder if this miracle doesn't prod us to examine our lives and seek out those who have shaped, loved, and cared for us for a new word of thanksgiving. I think of a sainted mother, a loving pastor, several inspirational school teachers, several devoted professors, and a late college and seminary classmate to whom this little volume is dedicated. Of course, my gentle wife who in many cases loves me "anyhow" would be in the first of those to whom I owe so much. And then there are our many children and grandchildren who now enrich our lives in ways we never expected.
Let this sermon cause you to take inventory also -- and then express your appreciation to those you can before the sun goes down on this day. Don't be an "other-niner" (not to be confused with my Forty-niners) -- be a returning Samaritan at the feet of the one who saved us, giving thanks.
There is a flip side to this story of one-out-of-nine that I believe is worth exploring with you. I doubt this side is considered very often, but it is crucial to our practice of the faith here in North America. This flip side has to do with keeping our distance from Jesus, our ingratitude for the world around us, and our mission and ministry to bring healing to the lepers of our day.
Especially during my years of parish ministry, I noticed that many Christians and members of the church, while occasionally coming to worship, were like those ten who needed healing. "They stood at a distance" (Luke 17:12b). While we can be members, attend almost regularly, give in the offering, and even serve in some way like ushering or singing in the choir, all of that can be at a safe distance. We do that which is the minimum required in our culture to be considered a Christian and member of a church. But there is a distance between us and Jesus. Our loyalty may be to the congregation, but not to the Christ.
There is a deeper spirituality available to us which calls for moving with that healed Samaritan from standing at a distance to throwing ourselves at Jesus' feet and thanking him. I believe many congregations even level out any tendency of the new Christian to give themselves in a wholehearted fashion to the Christ. We subtly advise not to be "too radical" about our newfound joy lest we embarrass those who live their faith at a bit of a distance. In our worship of God, our ministry in daily life, and especially in our witness to others about the gospel, we often indicate to the more "gung-ho" and enthusiastic not to "go overboard." And so we shape another of the nine who remain into rather bland but socially-acceptable Christians. Jesus commended this one Samaritan because his thankfulness was unrestrained. There ought to be times like that for us, too.
It's probably stretching a lot what Luke wanted said about this parable, but I still want to do it here on the flip side. A life of appreciation for the Eden in which we have been given to live means a life of careful stewardship of our environment and natural resources. To appreciate our good place to live is to thank God by conserving it gently for future generations. To appreciate our comfortable surroundings is to love and minister to that non-human world, considering it as the beaten-up traveler along Jericho's roadway in need of help, just like another Samaritan did whom Luke also told us about.
Just as we talk about child abuse and sexual abuse, there is also resource abuse. God has given us a wonderful, good lifestyle with enough natural resources to live comfortably. We must be good stewards of those resources in order that future generations might also share them. The percentage, in my judgment, is still about one out of ten who respond appropriately to the gifts of creation. Certainly a congregation has the responsibility to conduct its affairs with a careful eye toward the stewardship of resources. Not only should we be careful how much offering money we spend on ourselves, but also how much electricity, natural gas, paper, or gasoline we expend as our share of what God provides. To be thankful is to be a good steward in all areas of our lives.
In our education ministry, as thankful people, we must instruct our young to be appropriately thankful by practicing this kind of ecological stewardship. In fact, our young probably have a keener sense of this responsibility than our older, already-set-in-our-ways generation.
On the flip side of this story of ingratitude is a mandate for us. Because Jesus did this healing on his way to Jerusalem, and because he still tried to work the miracle within the framework of the church, it seems to me this is still one of our ministry tasks on God's behalf within our congregation. It's a ministry of health and wholeness that thankfulness and God's love can provide. Jesus evidently thought it important and something we should do. (I doubt it was so we would have a message for our American holiday of Thanksgiving.)
There is still so much healing to be done in our time. Those whose minds are distorted by hate, those whose lives are paralyzed by guilt, those who have become totally possessed by an addiction, those who suffer with depression or lack of self-worth -- there are many who stand at our village gate and cry out, "Master, have pity on us!" (Luke 17:13b). We can help. We can make a dramatic difference in their lives with the love of Christ through us to them. And we can provide a ministry to the old who fear being alone and the young who fear new relationships, with great measures of Jesus' healing love given through us. It's our mission, too.
Not all will return to give thanks. In fact, the percentage might be about one-in-ten here also. However, we take our model from Jesus and the lepers of his day. We continue our ministry of compassion anyway.
So this flip side challenge is for a ministry of healing, the care of natural resources, and living a spiritual life much closer to Jesus. Tom Brokaw of the NBC Nightly News was correct, "When we sing the dirges, we must also sing the anthem. We recognize not only the miseries of life but also the joys." We ought to take inventory and thank those who have done so much. An attitude of appreciation is a part of the Christian life and, oh how often the blessing of a disaster is the breaking down of the barriers we have erected to divide us.
May Jesus say to us today, "Rise and go; your faith has made you well" (Luke 17:19).
knowing the marvelous grace-gift God has tendered
to heal us of our maladies and natural sinfulness.
We are to care for this creation's resources thankfully.
Tom Brokaw, on the NBC evening news on Thanksgiving eve, said, "When we sing the dirges, we must also sing the anthem." He went on to say we must "... recognize not only the miseries of life but also the joys." So it is being a sinner and living in an imperfect world.
Our Gospel story makes a similar point. Luke, who often writes about healings because of his medical expertise, emphasizes a favorite theme of his: the universality of God's salvation and the consideration of Samaritans as God's people.
You know the story well by now. We usually read it on Thanksgiving. Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem where he would go to the cross for our forgiveness. Ten lepers, at the edge of a little town where they were forced to live because of that malady, shouted out a request that he cure them. Jesus told them to go to their priest, a common way Jews were proven cleared of their skin disease and pronounced safe to re-enter into the life of the community again. On their way to do so, they were cured.
One returned to find Jesus and thank him. The one who returned was not a Jew as you might expect, but was a person the Jews thought of as pagan -- he was a Samaritan who was the son of a Jew marrying a Gentile. Jesus showed disappointment that the others did not return to show their appreciation as well. He commended the Samaritan for his faith and sent him on his way.
Leprosy was a horrible disease. Not only were the dreadful physical symptoms slowly rotting away their bodies, but also the wretched way they were marginalized and treated by the community was devastating. I saw it several places in the world. We Christians have two leper colonies in Liberia, West Africa, called "Ganta" and "Little Ganta," located on the only "coal-tar road" going north and south in the country. I believe it was the Methodists who have led the way in a very compassionate ministry there. The disfigurement of the residents is difficult to observe, but everything is done to bring the compassion and healing of Christ to them.
Weekly Jesus works again the miracle of making them clean of the dreaded skin diseases with the use of up-to-date medications and therapy. They are healed and they thank God in their little chapel over and over again.
Near the village of Zorzor, south of Ganta, is "Little Ganta." Here the science is not yet as advanced. The facilities are a safe distance from Zorzor and the thatched roof, mud-sided huts are much more primitive. Those who live there are the products of earlier days when leprosy was without hope of a cure. It is a pitiful sight. Yet, in their affliction, they came together to thank God they have each other.
Perhaps that's the first thing we ought to look at today. In Luke's story we notice that these ten outcasts were a mixture of Jew and Gentile (Samaritan). Isn't it interesting how adversity can draw us closer to each other? An earthquake, hurricane, fire, flood, or war seems to cause us to reach across those many barriers which otherwise, in good times, separate us. Perhaps that's one of the blessings God can give to us when we are devastated by the traumatic events of our lives. Those barriers of race or creed or class or ethnic origin or sexual preference, which we artificially and demonically erect, God erases when we no longer have the luxury to observe them.
It's not the major teaching of this miracle of healing, but it does say loudly to us to rid ourselves of those perverse prejudices and hatreds we somehow learn over the years. That is not the way God would have us see each other. Like those lepers, we are all in need of God's mercy and salvation. That should bring us together as one people who cry out in one voice, "Jesus, Master, have pity on us!" (Luke 17:13b).
Here is really the heart of this story: Ten were given health and new life and only one of them returned to express gratitude to Jesus. I'm sure Jesus wasn't disappointed that day because he didn't receive more praise, but rather, that those nine didn't begin a new kind of life of appreciation like the Samaritan. It was nice for the one thanked, but much more so for the one who did the thanking. They were new people with a different perspective on life and God's role in it. He wanted that for them to go along with their starting over as clean and healthy. But it was not to be.
When the Israelites came into the promised land after that very long time in the wilderness, God warned them of the danger of ingratitude: "When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the Lord your God for the good land he has given you. Be careful that you do not forget the Lord your God ..." (Deuteronomy 8:10-11a).
When I voice disappointment in my children, grandchildren, or close friends for whom I have done something nice, my wife will say, "Jerry, you shouldn't have done it expecting to be thanked." She's right. But I so want those I love to know the richness of a life of thankfulness. It's the crown and completion of our faith. To live in that kind of graceful attitude is to face life's problems and frustrations in a very different way. It's really God's special equipment for us to receive as a gift as well. I want that blessing for all of us and Jesus wanted it so much for all ten he had healed.
"Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine?" (Luke 17:17). Here is disappointment that the nine would not know the joy of a life of gratitude like the one. Their faith would remain puny, to be a backup in times of life's serious crises rather than faith permeating all of life with a wonderfully resilient joy of appreciation.
I wonder if this miracle doesn't prod us to examine our lives and seek out those who have shaped, loved, and cared for us for a new word of thanksgiving. I think of a sainted mother, a loving pastor, several inspirational school teachers, several devoted professors, and a late college and seminary classmate to whom this little volume is dedicated. Of course, my gentle wife who in many cases loves me "anyhow" would be in the first of those to whom I owe so much. And then there are our many children and grandchildren who now enrich our lives in ways we never expected.
Let this sermon cause you to take inventory also -- and then express your appreciation to those you can before the sun goes down on this day. Don't be an "other-niner" (not to be confused with my Forty-niners) -- be a returning Samaritan at the feet of the one who saved us, giving thanks.
There is a flip side to this story of one-out-of-nine that I believe is worth exploring with you. I doubt this side is considered very often, but it is crucial to our practice of the faith here in North America. This flip side has to do with keeping our distance from Jesus, our ingratitude for the world around us, and our mission and ministry to bring healing to the lepers of our day.
Especially during my years of parish ministry, I noticed that many Christians and members of the church, while occasionally coming to worship, were like those ten who needed healing. "They stood at a distance" (Luke 17:12b). While we can be members, attend almost regularly, give in the offering, and even serve in some way like ushering or singing in the choir, all of that can be at a safe distance. We do that which is the minimum required in our culture to be considered a Christian and member of a church. But there is a distance between us and Jesus. Our loyalty may be to the congregation, but not to the Christ.
There is a deeper spirituality available to us which calls for moving with that healed Samaritan from standing at a distance to throwing ourselves at Jesus' feet and thanking him. I believe many congregations even level out any tendency of the new Christian to give themselves in a wholehearted fashion to the Christ. We subtly advise not to be "too radical" about our newfound joy lest we embarrass those who live their faith at a bit of a distance. In our worship of God, our ministry in daily life, and especially in our witness to others about the gospel, we often indicate to the more "gung-ho" and enthusiastic not to "go overboard." And so we shape another of the nine who remain into rather bland but socially-acceptable Christians. Jesus commended this one Samaritan because his thankfulness was unrestrained. There ought to be times like that for us, too.
It's probably stretching a lot what Luke wanted said about this parable, but I still want to do it here on the flip side. A life of appreciation for the Eden in which we have been given to live means a life of careful stewardship of our environment and natural resources. To appreciate our good place to live is to thank God by conserving it gently for future generations. To appreciate our comfortable surroundings is to love and minister to that non-human world, considering it as the beaten-up traveler along Jericho's roadway in need of help, just like another Samaritan did whom Luke also told us about.
Just as we talk about child abuse and sexual abuse, there is also resource abuse. God has given us a wonderful, good lifestyle with enough natural resources to live comfortably. We must be good stewards of those resources in order that future generations might also share them. The percentage, in my judgment, is still about one out of ten who respond appropriately to the gifts of creation. Certainly a congregation has the responsibility to conduct its affairs with a careful eye toward the stewardship of resources. Not only should we be careful how much offering money we spend on ourselves, but also how much electricity, natural gas, paper, or gasoline we expend as our share of what God provides. To be thankful is to be a good steward in all areas of our lives.
In our education ministry, as thankful people, we must instruct our young to be appropriately thankful by practicing this kind of ecological stewardship. In fact, our young probably have a keener sense of this responsibility than our older, already-set-in-our-ways generation.
On the flip side of this story of ingratitude is a mandate for us. Because Jesus did this healing on his way to Jerusalem, and because he still tried to work the miracle within the framework of the church, it seems to me this is still one of our ministry tasks on God's behalf within our congregation. It's a ministry of health and wholeness that thankfulness and God's love can provide. Jesus evidently thought it important and something we should do. (I doubt it was so we would have a message for our American holiday of Thanksgiving.)
There is still so much healing to be done in our time. Those whose minds are distorted by hate, those whose lives are paralyzed by guilt, those who have become totally possessed by an addiction, those who suffer with depression or lack of self-worth -- there are many who stand at our village gate and cry out, "Master, have pity on us!" (Luke 17:13b). We can help. We can make a dramatic difference in their lives with the love of Christ through us to them. And we can provide a ministry to the old who fear being alone and the young who fear new relationships, with great measures of Jesus' healing love given through us. It's our mission, too.
Not all will return to give thanks. In fact, the percentage might be about one-in-ten here also. However, we take our model from Jesus and the lepers of his day. We continue our ministry of compassion anyway.
So this flip side challenge is for a ministry of healing, the care of natural resources, and living a spiritual life much closer to Jesus. Tom Brokaw of the NBC Nightly News was correct, "When we sing the dirges, we must also sing the anthem. We recognize not only the miseries of life but also the joys." We ought to take inventory and thank those who have done so much. An attitude of appreciation is a part of the Christian life and, oh how often the blessing of a disaster is the breaking down of the barriers we have erected to divide us.
May Jesus say to us today, "Rise and go; your faith has made you well" (Luke 17:19).
