February 12, 2006: EWW!!
Mark 1:40-45; 2 Kings 5:1-14; Psalm 30
Eileen Parfrey       Springwater Pres. Ch.

 

As Americans learned that journalist, Bob Woodruff and his cameraman were injured in an Iraqi roadside bombing, they were reassured to hear they had been taken to the best hospital in Iraq, the one with a 97% success rate. Reporters followed that story by interviewing one of the doctors, who said that this hospital wasn't just for famous journalists. They also treated, with as much compassion and as thorough medical care, anyone else needing it. Including, if need be, the people who set the bombs. This shocked many Americans, as it shocked the king of Israel when Naaman showed up, the general who had defeated them, carrying a handwritten note from his king saying, "Heal this guy for me, would you?" Cure that enemy's social disease.

Eww! Leprosy-social disease. The leprosy of Biblical times wasn't the leprosy we're familiar with through Mother Teresa and Hawaiian leper colonies-Hansen's disease. The diagnosis, cure, and restoration of so-called lepers detailed so carefully in Leviticus, was a catch-all ancient medical term meaning, "skin disease," anything from birthmarks to rosacea, psoriasis, eczema or chronic acne. It was a social disease because, not understanding which diseases were communicable and how, sufferers were banned from all contact with other humans, just to be on the safe side. The disease was considered so heinous that only someone with access to divine power would be able to cure it. An Israelite cured (thanks be to God!) of leprosy, needed a two-week cleansing certification ritual in order to be restored to other humans. It wasn't a cheap process, and it required a trip to the capital where the Temple was located. Then, as today, being sick often meant you were poor, and because you were poor you were often disenfranchised from access to the medico-religious community of cure. Suffering begets more suffering.

That's the thing about being human. We can't escape suffering. But suffering can change us. Holy change is called transformation. The belief that suffering can be transformative is as pervasive as the old fairy stories and myths. There's always a challenge or quest that causes great anguish and no little suffering. A golden fleece must be found, the Ring returned to the mountain where it was forged, a cloak whose magic depends on the blood from the heroine's pricked fingers being stitched into it. But the hero or heroine is transformed into one greater and more enduring because of the suffering they endure. The suffering leper begs Jesus to restore him to home and family, to productive employment and meaningful work. And Jesus is moved to his guts. That's the Greek. I love that word-splangxna-a word with anatomical overtones of entrails or guts, and a response whose implied meaning is imprecise enough that translations vary from compassion and pity to affection to irritation and downright anger. Jesus heals the man, but he doesn't just leave it at that. It's not, "What more could the leper want?" It's, "What more could Jesus want?"

Jesus wants transformation. As 21st century Americans, we are inclined to avoid suffering at all costs. That's what we've got insurance for, for pete's sake! But the ancient understanding of suffering was different. The root word for "innocence" meant "not wounded yet," and "innocence" wasn't a compliment. It meant you didn't know the most essential things, you hadn't grasped life's "mystery" because you had not suffered and survived. We prefer nice, normal, pain-free. We think it's humiliating to fall apart or to fail or to show weakness. Our response to wounding is to resolve the situation. We mobilize for vengeance and call it "justice." We find someone else to blame. We file a lawsuit. Our wound might be failing a test we thought we'd aced. Not making the team. Breaking up with a boyfriend. Divorce. Losing a job or custody of the kids. Admitting to addiction. It's a functional leprosy, because it feels like the rest of the world is the winners in life, and we are the losers, the lepers of the world-bitter, jealous, resentful, isolated from others. We may as well ring a bell and call out, "Unclean!"

What more could Jesus want? Transformation. Ours. Jesus wants to give us transformation. The Biblish term for this is "salvation." Evangelicals have done us a disservice by only quoting Jesus in the gospel of John as he says to Nicodemus, "You must be born again." That may be one way of seeing salvation, but it leaves the impression that salvation is a one-shot deal. How can we be saved if we hurt so much? We avoid pain because suffering seems like failure. We avoid ministry risks because the potential for failure means potential for rejection. If we don't admit we've got leprosy, maybe no one will notice. We're afraid of giving up something that used to work, because it feels like a death, and we're not convinced that resurrection comes next. We may have to stand off from the crowd clanging our bells to keep folks away, but there's always the nobility of victimhood to rely on. It's a cycle. It happens more than once, this hitting bottom and coming back up. We call it "death and resurrection."

It's God's standard mode of operation, "death and resurrection." All you need to do is look around outside to see that. Take a look at the labyrinth on your way home today! Last fall's dead gravel and blue lines, the holes carefully drilled and refilled, are living proof that after death comes resurrection. It's all in bloom!

God is always transforming things. We think we're supposed to "earn" things-our salvation especially-but gift is only received. It's all gift. We might feel more free of our personal leprosies if we experienced the rigmarole with the priest outlined in Leviticus, the examining, ritual washing, anointing with oil, the incantations and turtledoves. It is easier to believe we're really OK if there's some gesture, some action or ritual to go with it. Pay to be cured. File an insurance claim. Blame someone else. Sue. Keep doing it over until you get it right. Anything to believe we had a hand in our salvation.

The leper is the one who really got it in this story. He was the one who saw what had happened to him and figured it was gift-all gift. He knew he'd never be the same, that the rules were entirely different, because how he got there was different. If nothing is transformed, if we don't have to trust the Holy One, we can stay small, we can continue to count on ourselves alone. But if our old illusions die, if we give up hoping for magic incantations and waved hands to rid us of the swelling and the redness, the scales and oozing sores, maybe we will see that it's all gift.

Sometimes we're like Naaman, and God answers our prayer in ways that we can't quite approve. Elisha doesn't even come to the door. We're supposed to wash in someone else's river? What if we are offered the gift of transformed suffering, and we're too proud to accept it, because the gift doesn't match our expectations? Master, if you choose, you can make me clean. "I do choose." Jesus' word to you today is, "I do choose." Jesus is moved to his very inmost being on your behalf. I do choose. Receive Christ's transformation.

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