Luke 17:11-19
On the way to Jerusalem, [Jesus] was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out to him, “Jesus! Master! Have mercy on us!” When Jesus saw them he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made well.
One of them, seeing that he had been healed, turned back praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at the feet of Jesus and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan.
Jesus said, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to turn back and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way. Your faith has made you well.”
Foreigners, foreigners, foreigners…
If you have not seen the latest Ken Burns/PBS series called “The US and the Holocaust” I highly recommend it. (Here’s a link.) It’s not for the faint of heart, but one of those things that should be seen. Even if you think you’ve heard that history before, or heard it enough, this is different. It tells a different story about the way the US handled the issue of Jews as “foreigners,” and as refugees, and as immigrants before, during and after the war, and it has a lot to teach us about how we do – or do not do – immigration these days.
My sermon for today was already done when I finished up the series late last night, so all I’m prepared to share about it is a little Public Service Announcement – and pastoral encouragement – to take the time to watch it.
In the meantime … have you heard the stories lately about the migrants from our southern border who are helping with the hurricane recovery and rescue and rebuilding in Florida? It’s a thing. And it feels like a cosmic irony to me that many of the people who, just a few weeks ago, were being toyed with like so many pawns in one of the ugliest, most controversial political games we have going in our country these days, have made their way “to the rescue” in Florida, despite the fact that that state’s governor, in particular, is the source of so much of the drama that surrounds them.
What I mean is, the very people – or people very much like them – who, a couple of weeks ago, were being flown around the country to score political points about a broken immigration system, have since headed into the source of the drama, to help save the day.
Apparently, it’s nothing new though, and prevalent enough, that there are even non-profit organizations that facilitate these efforts and advocate for the safety and fair treatment of the migrants who do that kind of work. There’s an organization called “Resilience Force,” for example, which helps thousands of undocumented immigrants move around our country from one disaster to another as they clean up and rebuild homes and businesses that get destroyed by hurricanes, tornadoes, tropical storms and the like.
A Mexican roofer who does this sort of thing describes himself and others like him as being like “traveling white blood cells … who congregate after [a disaster] to heal a place, and then move on to heal the next place.” Apparently, hundreds of these people have made their way to Florida, in the wake of Hurricane Ian. They’re coming from places like New York, Dallas, and Houston. Again, the very states – to and from which – they were being shipped in the first place.
Of course, migrants do this work because they’re smart and resourceful and desperate enough, perhaps. It’s hard, dangerous work. They get screwed out of compensation, they risk their safety and they endanger their lives by working without insurance or a safety net of any kind. That’s some of what an organization like “Resilience Force” exists to help with.
But it’s not only about wages, job security and self-preservation for these “foreigners.” “Resilience Force” also leads these migrant workers on service projects where undocumented immigrants rebuild homes for uninsured Americans who are, like them, without a safety net, too. And then they host meals where those American homeowners and migrant workers can get to know each other. They build relationships. They become friends. And their minds, opinions and politics, even, often change because of it.
And when I read about this and then read this morning’s Gospel about Jesus and that Samaritan “foreigner,” I couldn’t help but connect the dots.
Yes. There’s a lot in this Gospel that invites us toward deeper gratitude and a more faithful response to God’s blessing in our lives. I’ve preached that sermon plenty of times and will again, someday.
But what makes this story different … the key player today … the surprise twist for anyone who heard about what happened with Jesus and those lepers that day, in some village somewhere between Samaria and Galilee is all about the Samaritan; it’s that he was a foreigner; it mattered to Jesus, and it should matter to us, that he was an outsider in a group of outsiders.
Yeah … this guy was an outsider in a group of outsiders. He was an outcast, among the outcasts. As a foreigner, he was a leper, even to the lepers, you might say. (I wonder if that’s why he turned around, honestly. I wouldn’t be surprised if, once they were all healed, the rest of them left this guy in the dust and returned to their homes, because they were no longer bound to him by their disease. The other nine were utterly liberated. He was healed, but still a foreigner … still an outcast … still an outsider, after all.)
Which is why Jesus lifts him up as a model of faithfulness. Jesus lifts him up as an example that the other nine – and we – could learn from. In doing that, Jesus reminds whoever’s paying attention that, where God is concerned, there are no insiders and outsiders; no “us” and “them;” no “illegal” children of God, if you will. After all, Jesus didn’t ask for the foreigner’s papers, or expect him to assimilate, or naturalize, or pledge his allegiance before he was healed. He just loved him and healed him right along with the others.
It’s a reminder that our boundaries are not God’s boundaries – whether those boundaries are political, religious, theological, ethnic or whatever.
I heard Howard Stern interview Jann Wenner last week – he’s the creator of Rolling Stone magazine. Among other things, they were waxing nostalgic about John Lennon, generally – about what a genius he was on so many levels, and about what a tragedy it is that he’s no longer alive among us. And they marveled specifically about the song “Imagine” and the seemingly earth-shattering, mind-blowing, ground-breaking ideas he sings about there.
And Howard Stern, a self-professed atheist who I actually have a fair amount of respect for, swooned over Lennon’s encouragement to – as the song goes – “Imagine there’s no countries … it isn’t hard to do … nothing to kill or die for … and no religion, too.” “Imagine all the people … sharing all the world.” You know the song. If you don’t, you’ll have to take that up with Jesus.
Anyway, in today’s Gospel, Jesus himself, embodies what John Lennon – genius though he was – could only imagine. Jesus embodies what we can only imagine, too much of the time.
In that moment, with that Samaritan, there were no countries. No nationality that mattered any more than any other.
There was no religion, too. (Jesus wasn’t a Christian, remember. And those lepers were healed before they ever made it to the priests. Religion didn’t do that for the, their faith did.)
And there was no hell down below, and no heaven somewhere far and away, either. Because heaven was happening right there among them. Grace was shared. Healing had come. Gratitude was expressed. New life was taking shape. The outsider was allowed in. Faith and life had come together and all was well.
Imagine.
And then let’s stop imagining it and let’s make it so. Let’s stop imagining what we are called to embody as God’s people on the planet. Let’s see all of it – our country and theirs – as God’s creation. Let’s see all of us – and them, whoever they may be – as God’s children, too. Let’s talk about and seek out the common ground of our faith more often than we argue about what divides us where religion is concerned.
Let’s do like Jesus did – and calls us to, just the same. Let’s embody the kind of grace, courage, welcome and mercy that so much of the world has very good reason to doubt, deny, long for and merely imagine, unless and until we show them how real it is and how real it can be, by the grace of the God we know in Jesus.
Amen
