May 29, 2005

What Moves You?

2 Kings 5:1-14
1 Corinthians 9:24-27
Mark 1:40-45

An ancient Chinese philosopher once said, "All persons have the capacity for compassion." When a small child gets too close to the edge of a well, for example, those who see this, without exception, experience a feeling of alarm and distress - not because they know the child's parents, not because they seek praise from neighbors and friends if they rescue the child, not out of fear of a bad reputation if they don't go to the rescue - but solely because of their compassion for the child. Without compassion one would hardly qualify as a human being. (i)

The philosopher was right - to a point. People in general do have a capacity for compassion, but not everyone does something with it. You or I may see a child at the brink of a well, feel deeply distressed, but do nothing, and turn the other way, not wanting to get involved, hoping or assuming that someone else will rescue the child. Compassion is more than feeling sorry. Naaman, a great man in high favor with everyone, the commander of the huge army of the Arameans, has incurred the disease of leprosy, yet surprisingly he is not an outcast (perhaps because of his high rank). Yet he is certainly suffering from the disease, and desperately wants to be cured. He hears about a prophet in Samaria (Israel) who may be able to help him, so he seeks him out (with the help of the king). He desires to be changed and he takes the responsibility for changing himself - a good lesson for all of us.

Of course, the way he goes about it is all wrong. He thinks he can buy his way to good health, so he brings with him a considerable fortune - ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten designer suits. Oh yes, and also a letter from the King of Aram to the King of Israel - all this, but not any faith. Pride, arrogance, conceit, skepticism, but no faith. Fortunately for him his servants have faith, and compassion for him, and convince him to swallow his pride. Once he does, and submits himself to God's will, his flesh is restored and he becomes clean. The story doesn't end at this point, and what follows is pretty interesting, but we must leave Naaman here. When you go home, open your Bible and read 2 Kings 5 for "the rest of the story."

The leper in the other story we know less about. Because of the times and the culture, he is an outcast. He probably looks and smells awful. Like Naaman he also longs to be healed, but he has no money. Yet when he hears that Jesus is coming to town, he goes to him, kneels before him, and begs to be healed. The leper's material possessions are few, but his faith is great. Jesus, "moved with pity," touches him and makes him clean.

In what ways are you and I "lepers?" In what situations are we on the outside? How are we in need of healing? What in us smells bad? or is repulsive? or is socially or personally unacceptable? Each of us has flaws somewhere within us - some sickness, a dark side, a personality quirk, something ... of which we long to be healed. Perhaps it's a bad temper, jealousy, or envy, lack of motivation, a hard-to-control passion - something ... of which we long to be healed. Perhaps we've fallen far short of the expectations we've set for ourselves, or others have set for us, or what we know God expects of us - something ... of which we long to be healed, to be made whole, to become what we were meant to become.

How can we be healed? The easy answer is - have faith and you will be healed. Naaman's servants had faith and their master was healed. The leper who came to Jesus had faith and he was healed. Therefore, if we have faith, we will be healed. I wish that it were that simple and easy. But we know from experience that it's not. Faith is, for sure, very important, but there are no guarantees. Where, then, is the good news in this for us? Do we have to live forever with our "leprosy," with all that needs healing within us? Is there no hope for us?

Before we can answer this, there's one more part of the story of Jesus and the leper that we need to look at again. Jesus heals the man, and then sternly warns him to first, tell no one what has happened and second, to go to the priest for the ritualistic confirmation of the healing. But what does the healed leper do? - the complete opposite. He apparently does not go to the priest, and he blabs to everyone about what Jesus has done for him. He is exuberantly disobedient! We can't blame him in a way. We might have done the same ourselves if we were walking in his sandals. But he does disobey, and because of this, Jesus' intention to preach in the surrounding villages is frustrated. The one who should be grateful for his healing - and he is grateful, he just doesn't show his gratitude in the right way makes it more difficult for Jesus to carry out his mission.

Does Jesus know that the leper is going to react this way, with exuberant disobedience? Perhaps so, yet he heals him anyway. Not only that, but Jesus reaches across the chasm of taboo, a very powerful social abyss, and he touches the leper, he touches the untouchable, and loves the unlovable, even though the man may not have deserved it. And, there is no taboo strong enough to thwart the love of God in Jesus Christ for us. No matter what the nature of our "leprosy," God in Christ is with us in our struggles, is with us as we try to stumble out of the darkness, is with us as we long to be healed and made whole. Sometimes healing occurs; sometimes it does not. But the hope that will sustain us is that Christ reaches out and touches us and loves us no matter what our condition, no matter what we've done, no matter how far we've fallen. Jesus is the way to a better life, a more fulfilled life.

"Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him ..." There's an alternate translation of this verse that's quite interesting. The word for "pity" can be translated "anger." "Moved with anger, Jesus stretched out his hand ..." This puts a different slant on the story, doesn't it? Why would Jesus be angry? Perhaps because he knows that the leper will disobey his request not to tell anyone. But that doesn't sound like Jesus, does it? Perhaps he's angry at the audacity of the leper begging to be healed. But again, that doesn't sound like Jesus. Or, perhaps he's angry at a world that shuns lepers, outcasts, and misfits, at a world that produces misery and suffering of all kinds. My guess is that Jesus is moved by both compassion and anger. He is filled with an angry compassion that refuses to tolerate evil, suffering, discrimination, and injustice. He's angry with a kind of righteous indignation that moves him from pity to action. Throughout his ministry, he has such compassion that he is moved to engage in healings to relieve the bodily or mental sufferings of others. (ii)

As Christ's followers we are called to follow in his way, to react as he reacted, to love others sacrificially as he loved. In the story of Jesus and the leper, we note four things that Jesus does. First, he observes the situation. He opens his eyes to the reality of the needy person before him. He does not close his eyes to the need. Second, he empathizes with the one in need. We can believe that Jesus actually feels the pain of the sores and the humiliation of the man with leprosy. Third, he sympathizes; he is moved to pity. And fourth, most important, he takes some action; he reaches out and touches the man. In what ways are we called to observe, empathize, sympathize, and act? In what ways are we called to personally reach out to those in need? In what ways are we called to give of our time and our resources to others who need us? Sometimes we forget or overlook the talents, skills, or resources we do have when we're faced with what seems like impossible tasks. Like the King of Israel in the story of Naaman, we also cry out, "Am I God?" when we feel that others - or the world - are making unreasonable demands on us. We need to ask ourselves, "In what ways am I being called to use who I am and what I have to work miracles?"

What moves you? I don't know. You'll have to answer this yourself. But I'll tell you what moves me. I am moved with angry compassion for the millions of people who are starving in the world, many without housing or without adequate livelihoods. I am moved for the poor and disadvantaged right here in our own country - living in the tenements of our cities, on Indian reservations, in rural Appalachia; even right here in Duxbury and in surrounding towns. I am moved for the downtrodden and oppressed wherever they are; for political prisoners who are tortured and killed, some in countries we consider allies who we support with our money and our weapons. I am moved for those among us who need caring and curing - those dying from physical diseases, those burdened with mental illnesses, those who are lonely, alienated, searching for self. I am moved for those are discriminated against in society, whether because of race, gender, ethnicity, sexual orientation, economic status, or religion. I am moved with compassion for the victims of war; for people held hostage literally or figuratively by those who indulge in terrorism; for those who must put their lives on the line to save others. I am moved with anger and compassion for all who suffer from the many acts of inhumanity that people perpetrate upon other people, nations upon other nations. And, I am just plain angry at myself when I don't adequately respond to these needs. And I am angry and disappointed when the church does not respond.

What moves you? And how will you respond? It's very easy to become callused to the suffering and the needs of others, to close our eyes to the misery, to the injustice, to the discrimination against the "lepers" in our midst - until we remember that we too are "lepers," and that Christ ministers to us in our needs. May that remembrance (on this weekend of remembrances) move you and me to reach out and touch others who are in need by the power of Jesus Christ and in his name. Amen.

The Pilgrim Church of Duxbury
Rev. Kenneth C. Landall

i Mencius, Pulpit Resource, 2/11/79.
ii Pulpit Resource Supplement, 2/11/79.