October 9, 2022
Maya Little-Saña
Scripture: 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, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return 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.”
Today, we join Jesus on the final stages of his journey to Jerusalem. Today, we walk the borderlands, the “region between Samaria and Galilee”, a potentially dangerous place due to the conflicted relationship between Samaritans and Jews. In a place where we, or, I’ll speak for myself, I would want to walk as quickly as possible, Jesus stops and hears the cries of ten lepers and despite potential danger, heals all ten-including the Samaritan, a religious and political and social outsider.
The faith of the Samaritan leper offers an example of how the lifelong journey of faith might begin for those who have experience as outsiders and for whom common descriptions of what faith even is might feel elusive or intangible.
For example, one’s faith is commonly described as what one believes, a set of propositions one professes to be true and patterning one’s life accordingly. And whereas the Creeds, for instance, are important statements of truth, a narrow view of faith based solely on the affirmation of propositional truth makes it very difficult for people to enter into faith, especially in a society that values critical thinking and rationalism.
Faith characterized as holding onto a set of doctrinal truths poses great risk to those who have divergent beliefs or doubts or questions. I am certainly not against the pursuit of truth or the articulation of belief, but conflating faith and belief can be unhelpful if one finds themself to be a foreigner on the spiritual journey.
Another common way to approach faith is as a form of trust. So instead of faith predicating on “I believe God heals people ” as a propositional truth, faith is characterized by a trust in God’s character, God’s goodness and graciousness, to be a healer.
And these descriptions are not inaccurate, but seem to be pieces of the puzzle that, to the outsider, present a very jumbled picture into what it means to have faith. Where does one begin on a journey of faith if you can’t wrap your head around the Creeds or if you don’t feel like you know enough about God to trust?
Or, what if God has been misrepresented and you have been told or assumed that the God these people talk about doesn’t want anything to do with you. Well, the Samaritan leper began by calling out to Jesus for mercy in his great need. Do I think that the Samaritan leper believed that Jesus could heal him? Or trust that he would heal him, if he could? I’m not so sure. His immense display of gratitude and adoration gives us a clue- this is the reaction of a man who probably DIDN’T believe that the power of Jesus that everyone had been talking about was for him because of his ethnicity and his ritual uncleanliness.
Because he was a Samaritan, maybe he didn’t trust that the Galilean would give him what he was calling out for. But he called out anyway because he was hurting and he had a miniscule but desperate hope that maybe, maybe Jesus would hear him and see him and heal him.
The lifelong journey of faith for the Samaritan leper began when he recognized a need within himself, a hunger to be seen and healed, and despite the social boundaries separating him from Jesus, he called out to him, in his unknowing and doubt.
So when Jesus says that the man’s faith saved him, we see very clearly that Luke is not suggesting “your belief in a set of propositional truths gave you keys to heaven.” What Jesus seems to be saying is more along the lines of “your courageous motivation to act and desire to know me have transformed you. You have experienced the salvation of God.”
Jesus uses the expression “Your faith has made you well” three other times in similar contexts- with outsiders who, in addition to receiving healing and forgiveness, are drawn closer to God and encounter salvation.
In one such case, a woman had been bleeding for twelve years. No physician had been able to heal her. No person could touch her without becoming unclean. And yet, she musters the courage to reach out and touch Jesus’ clothes. She dares to act on her deepest hope and hunger, despite her uncleanliness, despite her status, despite the social and religious taboo of touching the Teacher’s clothes, she has the courage to reach out. After she is healed, she has the courage to continue to engage with Jesus when he asks “who touched my clothes?!”.
And when all is said in done, Jesus lets her know that her faith has made her well. For this woman and the Samaritan leper and many of us, faith looks like calling out to God because we are hurting or hungry for something deeper and responding when God calls out to us- and that is just the beginning.
Intentional faith formation, then, is about the continued courage and commitment to call out to God through prayer, scripture, and worship and to be attentive to God’s response. When we have the courage to show up and be open to the vulnerability of encounter, to “say yes” to relationship and transformation, we are made well.
I know for a fact that many people here today have had experience on the outside. You didn’t believe the right things. You asked too many questions. The Jesus they told you about didn’t want anything to do with you because you weren’t straight or good or worthy enough. And yet, here you are. And many of you may still feel like foreigners here. I mean, we do have an entirely different language where we say things like alb, sexton, and thurifer, but I digress… and commend you for your courage and faithfulness.
You belong here, you are a part of this church. We are not a church because we believe the same thing. We are a church because we are people united by our hunger for something deeper, something more meaningful and in the eucharist we call out to God and respond to God’s saving and redemptive work with thanksgiving. I invite you, oh courageous and faithful one, to continue calling out to God, to listen, to follow, and to be made well.
