By Chaplain Mike
Sunday’s Gospel
• Luke 17:11-19
Early in the traditional worship service of the church, the congregation says, chants, or sings the Kyrie: “Lord, have mercy; Christ, have mercy; Lord, have mercy.” The climax of the service occurs when God’s people celebrate the Eucharist, partaking of the body and blood of Christ. At the beginning of worship, we take our position before God as people in need of his mercy and grace. At the high point of worship, having heard the Word of the Gospel, we receive his saving grace with thanksgiving.
This movement from humble petition to grateful participation in the life of Christ is portrayed in the Gospel lesson for this Sunday.
First, we meet people who feel unworthy to enter Jesus’ presence. They have been diagnosed with leprosy, one of any number of skin diseases in the ancient world that rendered them ceremonially unclean and socially outcast. The regulations of Leviticus 13 required lepers in Israel to live “outside the camp,” and to cry out, “Unclean! Unclean!” when others approached so that the quarantined ones could be identified and avoided. Lepers represent the ultimate outsider.
Who might they be in our world? Perhaps the person dying from AIDS or suffering from some disfiguring disease or debilitating mental illness. What about those we avoid because of race, class, or immigration status? Or could it be the individuals and groups from whom we separate because of moral indignation—those pursuing “alternate lifestyles” that we despise, or those trapped in the downward spiral of alcohol or drug dependency? Perhaps we should think of the adherents of other religions—maybe they are the “strangers” from whom we steer clear.
When it comes to Jesus, we are all outsiders. We are all unclean. By nature and practice, we are all separated from the community of God’s blessing. If any of us would approach Jesus, we must first stand at a distance and cry, “Kyrie eleison; Lord, have mercy on us!” When we come before him, we come confessing our sins, acknowledging our need, appealing to his gracious love. The Jesus Prayer of the Orthodox tradition teaches us to repeat this continually throughout each day—“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” thus training our hearts in the way of humility and dependence. It is not for me to take pity on the leper. I am the leper.
Second, we hear Jesus’ word of good news. The Master tells them to go and show themselves to the priest. The only reason for them to do this would be for the priest to verify that they had been cleansed from their diseased condition and were now fit to rejoin the relationships and routines of normal life. Sure enough, as they set out, these ten looked at each other and realized they had been healed! The power of God’s Kingdom had broken into their lives. Where God rules, there is no uncleanness and there are no outcasts. Once more, Jesus makes the blessings of the age to come real in the here and now.
This is what the Gospel does. Given our condition, we require a word from above—a word from outside ourselves—to invade our lives, penetrate our hearts, and make us new. Jesus’ good news of the Kingdom of God is more than an announcement. It is a declaration that accomplishes what it proclaims! “It is the power of God at work, saving everyone who believes” (Rom 1:16, NLT).
Third, we see one who goes beyond receiving a gift to thanking the Giver. Nine of ten lepers were so enthused by their healing that they just kept going down the road—I’ll bet they were running, skipping, jumping, laughing, and giving high fives. Getting back to their lives and families was apparently all they could think about. They didn’t hang around for a second. So caught up in their experience, they forgot where it came from.
One stopped. One turned around. One cried out, “Praise God!” One fell at Jesus’ feet. One said, “Thank you” over and over and over again. One moved from “Kyrie” to “Eucharist.”
Luke gives the punchline: “This man was a Samaritan.” The word “Jew” derives from the name “Judah,” and it means “praise.” Of all the people who should have been rejoicing and praising God for what Jesus was doing as he journeyed throughout the land, it was the Jews, the ones whose very name suggests their calling. In this instance, however, we see a man doubly cursed (a leper who was also a Samaritan) who exemplified the virtue of faith by offering a sacrifice of thanksgiving. Here again, as we saw on the Jericho Road (Luke 10), the Samaritans of this world—the unlikely ones, the people we normally avoid and look down upon—these are the ones who shame the “righteous.”
In worship (and in everyday life) we are called to move from “Lord, have mercy,” to “Lord, we thank you.” The path leads us from confessing our sins to hearing the gospel to receiving grace to giving thanks.
From need to gift to Giver.
Luke 17:11-19 (J.B. Phillips)—
17:11-13 – In the course of his journey to Jerusalem, Jesus crossed the boundary between Samaria and Galilee, and as he was approaching a village, ten lepers met him. They kept their distance but shouted out, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”
17:14-18 – When Jesus saw them, he said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And it happened that as they went on their way they were cured. One of their number, when he saw that he was cured, turned round and praised God at the top of his voice, and then fell on his face before Jesus and thanked him. This man was a Samaritan. And at this Jesus remarked, “Weren’t there ten men healed? Where are the other nine? Is nobody going to turn and praise God for what he has done, except this stranger?”
17:19 – And he said to the man, “Stand up now, and go on your way. It is your faith that has made you well.”
The Internet Monk Archives 
“Ten Lepers” by James C. Christensen—www.jameschristensen.com/
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Mike,
Who did the picture? Where did you find it?
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Yeah. And I think you are on to something. Is it possible to want forgiveness more than Jesus? Is the good news that we are forgiven or that the Messiah has come? Do we want that “confidence about our position” – as you say – more than the One with whom we have been put into right relationship? The other nine went happily back to their families and lives, as Chaplain Mike stated. They were also re-admitted back into temple worship and practices. The nine were admitted right back into the world from which John the Baptist called people out into repentence to prepare for the appearance of the Lamb of God. They walked right back into the world of darkness, into which the Light came and was rejected.
This might get into what is really wrong with the therapeutic gospel – making people feel good about themselves and lives without encountering Christ. As one pastor I know puts it: sometimes God’s presence is not a comforable place.
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What is the illustration at the head of this posting?
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Insightful.
With watered down law we assume we do not sin and therefore do not come to the cross daily for mercy but rather attain some superficial “steps” to remain in “God’s will” and feel confident about our position. A drastically different position and approach to sanctification than the way of the cross.
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Oops. Jacob, not Joseph.
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We have a lot to learn from this. We are an entitlement generation, expecting and demanding unearned benefits. We Americans think we’re God’s people. deserving preferential treatment. Word-faith teaching has permeated everything; we no long plead for mercy; rather, we name and claim God’s promises, which he must deliver, because we pull the strings of faith.
The eucharistic prayer in the Catholic Liturgy which I wish Lutherans would include is the words of the centurion: “Lord, I’m unworthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” I have no doubt that there is a time and place for bald, unashamed prayers to receive God’s promises – like Joseph wrestling with God. But the norm should be humility. If salvation is by grace, then there is no place for arrogance and entitlement. There’s only one thing that I naturally have coming to me – definitely not unending peace.
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Thanks for sharing. I can relate in many ways. It’s not about style, tradition or ritual (although I think the Eucharist is more than these things). As Paul says, “the only thing that matters if faith expressing itself through love”. I need to be one of these grateful recipients/witnesses, in whatever church I may find myself worshipping in.
.
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This is getting freaky. It’s the 4th or 5th time that the reflections on iMonk have been a reinforcement of the homily I’ve heard at St John’s Cathedral here in Brisbane, Australia. Thanks for the reminder of the link between mercy and thanksgiving.
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I really would like to see more churches come into the liturgical culture. But first and foremost, I would like to see more SBC churches have the Lord’s Supper more than just four times a year.
Gaudeo ut Intelligam
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Well said, Sean. When I think about what Christ did for me on the cross I should be face down, prone on the floor. But it is hard to do when I am one of the 9 Jews and on my way to the next thing (or complaining about the current thing). Chaplain Mike, thanks. Convicted.
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Tom, I haven’t yet found information about the artwork. I found it displayed on several sites on the web.
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I am most comfortable and satisfied in a liturgical service with the Eucharist as focal point; but I just moved to a new location (new country actually) where the nearest church uses the bare-bones Evangelical form–sing and sermon. I have dismissed this style for almost a decade as being the spiritually superficial stuff of my younger Evangelical days. But the Pastor has had an awakening to social justice and everyone I meet there seems so genuine and sincere.
Nonetheless, after the praise and worship today, a young lady sang a solo–which to me has exemplified the human-centered crux of Evangelical worship–so in silent protest (I was in the very back of the church) I put my head down and didn’t look at her during the entire song. I instead decided to “focus on God” while she sang. What nonsense! Shame on me!
I am realizing that I have become a liturgical snob who subtly, but no less relentlessly, puts down Evangelicalism as a watered-down version of real (re: liturgical) faith. This post spoke directly to me and woke me up to the Jew/Samaritan division in my own faith: Man, oh man.
I am grateful that my liturgical journey renewed my faith and focus but somewhere along the line I started having faith in form. Looks like I will need to re-learn this process (and reverse) it as I worship with these Evangelicals this year, who just seem bright, jubilant and thankful (I would have said happy-clappy before getting here). Thank God for all dramatic-solo-singing believers and their heartfelt bread-and-grapejuice-drinkin’ forms. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a snobby sinner!
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Where did you get the last picture? I like it.
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I second that. Christ’s body and blood given for me a sinner and a sermon about Christ, I’ll get out of bed for that. (paraphrased, Rod Rosenbladt)
To hear the law twisted into “pseudo-gospel” and a sermon all about me, I’ll sleep in.
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That was one of the best posts I have read in a long time.
One of the things I like about the Lutheran tradition, is that we almost always confess sins right at the beginning of the church service. We do it as a group.
Evangelical “eucharist” usually has the “hey everybody, check yourself, etc” but it seriously lacks the same kind of drama that liturgy does. Communion is obligatory addendum to the singing and the preaching.
When I go to church on Sunday, the presence of God (in the Eucharist) is why you go there. We act out, as a community, exactly what is described here.
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