Last Sunday in my sermon I claimed that Jesus’ main job wasn’t healing people of their sicknesses. It seems that today’s gospel is contrary to that statement of mine, as we can see a leper cured by the Lord. Perhaps you know that the last person in the whole universe to own up his own mistake is a clergyman. So because I am a clergyman you now know what’s going to happen: I will try to convince you I was right, against the facts.
We are afraid of being ill – that’s obvious. We don’t like pain, we don’t want to suffer. Some illnesses are just inconvenient, like blocked noses; or irritating, like ‘high winds’. Some of them make our life harder while the others end it. The more serious the illness the greater impact on life it has. Consequently we try to prevent ourselves against contracting a disease (rather rare approach) or we want to be quickly healed when we’ve got one (much more ‘popular’ attitude).
For the last two years I’ve heard many times various people praising medical staff of one hospital or another as sensitive, helpful, caring and incredibly professional. I have no reason to doubt that their opinions were honest; although my contacts with the NHS have been rather rare thanks to my healthy lifestyle (whisky and biscuits) it’s always been a positive experience. So why do we dread going to hospital? And why do we want to leave it as soon as possible? The first of today’s reading prompts the answer. Let’s listen to it again: ‘A man infected with leprosy must wear his clothing torn and his hair disordered, […] he must live apart: he must live outside the camp’.
Leprosy, unlike many other ‘popular’ diseases, doesn’t kill within days, weeks or months; it can last for years or even decades. Disfigured, limbless bodies of lepers, opened, rotting and smelling wounds repelled healthy people. The exclusion of lepers from the local community has been a commonly accepted solution. Unbelievably the last leper colony in Europe still exists in Romania, although since 1991 its residents have been free to leave it. Most of them haven’t left it, because after decades or even generations of exclusion they have no place to go, no friends to meet, no skills to find work. They’d stopped being part of the social fabric, the network of mutual relations. I’d say the most painful aspect of being ill is the feeling of exclusion, the feeling of being alone, forgotten and abandoned.
In today’s gospel a leper implores Jesus for healing. So he does; and he insists the leper should keep it quiet and to follow the rules of law. But he doesn’t; the leper starts telling his story to the people he meets. He is now able to do something he hasn’t been allowed for years – to have a social life, to belong to a community. Now he can love and hate; now he can listen and be listened to; now he can argue and to reconcile… All these elements of life we take for granted and often do not appreciate. Jesus restores something more important than physical health; he restores the sense of belonging.
We gather in this church more or less regularly. We come here drawn by someone greater than we ourselves: God. We come along seeking a love greater than ours, a hope steadier than ours, a faith stronger than ours. We look up to God. But He urges us to look horizontal as well as vertical. Pain, suffering, problems – they are bearable as long as we belong; as long as we are not forlorn. This community gives us such a chance. Obviously there are people here you like less than others; of course there are people with different views and opinions; certainly there are people here with peculiar habits and customs. But that’s the point: variety is good. This community desperately needs it. We have to learn – or learn again – to get over our resentments and grudges; to forgive and forget. Just ask Jesus: ‘If you want to, you can cure me’. His answer is obvious: ‘Of course I want to!’. There is only one simple question: Do you want to be healed?