a homily for the Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost [Proper 23C/Lectionary 28] and reflection on Stephen Ministry
Luke 17:11-19 and 2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c
One of the unmistakable aspects of Jesus’ ministry and really of his whole life is healing. Everywhere Jesus goes in the gospels, healing occurs. Healing but also being made whole as an individual is an undeniable sign of God’s reign, and, indeed, that fact reaches back far before Jesus’ life. We can hear in this reading from the Old Testament today that Naaman experiences healing for his skin disease by washing in the waters of the Jordan, which is the river that formed a border with Israel and which had been so identified with God’s people that it was a symbol for God’s presence. It is a crude excuse for a river, apparently, but it still has amazing healing powers for him.
In the gospel lesson we hear that Jesus’ healing even occurs outside of Israel’s territory. And that is completely understandable, since everywhere Jesus goes, healing occurs. In this case he is travelling with his disciples around the border of Samaria, which is kind of like enemy territory for Jewish people. Surprisingly enough, the group encounters some lepers who from a distance shout out for mercy. For some reason they already know he is their path towards wholeness and healing.
Their shouting is an important aspect of the story. In ancient times, people with visible diseases or body issues were regularly sequestered and separated from the rest of the community. It was very isolating to have something wrong with you, to be in the need of healing. If you were a person with leprosy or a skin disease, which was especially feared in those times, you not only had to live outside of town with other lepers, but you also were required to announce your presence (technically-speaking, your quarantine) by shouting whenever you moved about. This only exacerbated the isolation of one’s situation. Talk about stigma!
When Jesus encounters these shouting lepers, he says to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” This is because only the religious leaders had the authority to restore people into community, which is part of healing. Physical or medical healing is one thing. Social healing, feeling that you are received and welcomed into society and into community, having your stigma removed—these constitute another very important part of the healing process. By reporting to the priests, these lepers understand that all of that kind of healing will occur. With their social isolation removed they will be restored. One of them, of course, returns to thank Jesus. His healing is even more profound. Jesus praises his faith.
Nowadays we approach diseases differently. We understand so much more about physical healing and mental healing, about things like microbes and allergens and carcinogens. We also don’t typically sequester people who are sick other than in ways that are leading to their healing, like in a hospital. However, it can still feel isolating to be carrying wounds. When you’re going through a hard time you can still feel completely disconnected from others. Perhaps it’s something tragic that’s happened to you or some kind of trauma or struggle you are dealing with. They may be wounds of an actual diagnosis you’ve received or a treatment you’re undergoing. Or they may be internal wounds—a significant relationship in your life has been broken, an event that has left you shattered, a grief from the death of a loved one.
Jesus still heals those wounds too. He walks where we walk still today, through the borderlands of our lives. We know through his death on the cross that Jesus is willing and does walk into any human condition, shares in any human suffering. He restores people to wholeness and brings people together in community. His forgiveness does that. His mercy accomplishes that. His compassion diminishes the distances between us. He gives us each other to point the way towards that healing. It was the unnamed Israelite slave girl who tended Naaman’s wife initiates the whole message that leads to Naaman’s healing.
In a congregation, people who are hurting may often “show themselves to the priests,” seeking out the priests (or the pastors) for counsel and for sharing their wounds and their desire for healing. This is natural. We go to pastors to help rid ourselves of the isolation that brokenness often brings. But pastors are not the only people who can lend a caring, listening ear. Any one of us who has been touched by Jesus’ healing is able to turn and lend care to others. In fact, we all have an obligation to share our neighbor’s burden in some way. It is one of the gifts the Spirit brings to life within us. There’s a line of Scripture often quoted right at the beginning of most funeral services. A pastor stands before a crowd of grieving people and proclaims this truth:
3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation, 4 who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God. (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).
We are able to console others. We are able to offer healing compassion to those around us, even if we aren’t a priest. We are blessed at Epiphany because we have a group of thoughtful, dedicated congregation members who have received special training to offer this kind of consolation. They are called Stephen Ministers, and they work together with the pastors in confidence, to help others bear their burdens, to listen carefully and caring-ly, to offer assistance with some of the inner wounds that still isolate us. Because wherever Jesus is, there is healing.
I am thankful we have this sign of God’s reign here at Epiphany. Through Stephen Ministry, people are experiencing healing, being made whole. They are truly encountering Jesus. And for this good news not just one in ten of us may return and praise God, but all of us can say together, “Thanks be to God!”
The Reverend Phillip W. Martin, Jr.