Over a few days last week, a bunch of unknowns were awarded the Nobel Prize for their respective achievements in science, literature, and peace. I used the term “unknowns” not to diminish their success but because they had truly been unknown to the wider public outside the academic community until last week. I am quite certain that even now, you cannot tell me their names. I am equally confident that their scientific discoveries have been immensely important and will eventually significantly influence our lives. One reason these talented people have remained relatively unknown until now is that they worked quietly towards their goals for years, even decades. One of them, Sir John Gurdon, ranked last out of 250 boys in his biology class at age 15 and was in the bottom set in all other science subjects. His teacher dismissed him in a school report: “I believe Gurdon has ideas about becoming a scientist; on his present showing this is quite ridiculous; if he can’t learn simple biological facts he would have no chance of doing the work of a specialist, and it would be a sheer waste of time, both on his part and of those who would have to teach him.” Sixty-four years later, the teacher was proved wrong. However, that report is the only item Sir John Gurdon ever framed, and it sits above his desk in Cambridge. “When you have problems like an experiment doesn’t work, which often happens, it’s nice to remind yourself that perhaps after all you are not so good at this job and the schoolmaster may have been right.” (source) In a strange way, that adverse comment inspired this Nobel Prize winner throughout his career.
The story of the ten lepers seems like just another of the many miracles that fill the gospels, almost to the point of oversaturation. However, when we examine them more closely, they were never meant as mere public performances. Each had its own purpose and carried a deeper significance. This is particularly clear in St John’s gospel, which features very few miracles, and an extensive speech almost always follows each one. Today’s healing story is no different. To highlight its meaning, it is paired with today’s first reading, which recounts the story of Naaman and his miraculous healing. Let’s begin with this one. Naaman was a high-ranking Syrian army commander suffering from leprosy. Hearing from an Israeli slave-girl about a prophet in Israel who could heal him, a request was made to the then-king of Israel, Jehoram. Unable to meet the request, he saw it as a pretext to start a war against him. His desperation was eased by a message from the prophet Elisha, who told him to send Naaman to him, which he duly did. The Syrian expected the prophet to perform some spectacular act; instead, he didn’t even bother to come out, but instructed Naaman through his servant to dip himself seven times in the River Jordan. This enraged Naaman so much that he refused and headed home. Fortunately, he was cleverly persuaded by his servants to give it a try: “If the prophet told you to do some great thing, you would do it, wouldn’t you?” (2 Kings 5:13). After being healed, he returned to the prophet and effectively professed his newly found faith in the God of Israel – that’s the meaning of today’s first reading.
Similarly, in the gospel, Jesus’ response to the calls from the ten lepers was underwhelming. There was no spectacular action or words; nothing to make them believe that healing was coming their way. Instead, he told them from a distance, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” In other words, “do the normal thing.” A bit of context: in ancient times, the term “leprosy” was used for a whole range of skin diseases and conditions, including acne. It was a priest’s job to discern whether a specific skin problem was infectious or not; if it was, the individual in question had to be isolated from the community to protect it. The decision was never terminal. If the condition changed, the person could be reassessed and potentially admitted back to the community. It had to be made official, not just reported by the individual, who might have been feeling better. That’s why in a different episode, having cleansed a leper, Jesus instructed him to “go and let the priest look at you. And offer the gift that Moses commanded for people who are made well. This will show everyone that you are healed.” (Matthew 8:4) So, Jesus sending the ten lepers to the priests effectively told them to be reassessed. They duly hit the road, “and as they went, they were cleansed.” I assume it must have been a relatively subtle, gentle change, perhaps first noticed only by the one who then returned to Jesus to “give praise to God.”
Here’s what I take from today’s gospel. It’s not uncommon to expect God to intervene in our lives dramatically, to witness a miracle of such magnitude that there is no room for doubt. However, it hardly ever happens in a spectacular manner. More often, we are called to follow and practise what we already possess: the Commandment of love of God and of neighbour, the Ten Commandments, and the ethical and moral teachings of the gospel, as enshrined and clarified in the official teachings of the Church. I recognise that this may not sound exciting to us, as we are now so accustomed to constant stimulation and entertainment. Yet, in time, it proves effective and fosters a sense of achievement and fulfilment in life, a reward even more valuable than the Nobel Prize.
