"Jesus, master, have pity on us!"

Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus travelled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!” When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.

One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan. Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.” Luke 17:11-19

Last time I shared two reflections which the little story of Jesus and the men with leprosy brought to my mind: first, the claims of the desperate and needy, to which we so often turn blind eyes and against which we so often harden our hearts; second, the sheer power of Jesus, with the reminder that through the Holy Spirit something of that power should belong to us.

But the more you think about the story the more it stirs up. So here are three further reflections.

Third, the beauty of simple faith.

Preachers, I think, often hold the solitary Samaritan up for praise, and shake their heads disapprovingly at the nine who failed to give thanks. But perhaps that isn’t entirely fair – for, after all, all ten showed enough faith to obey Jesus’ command to “Go!” and visit the priests. (The priests formed a kind of inspectorate of health; only they could officially declare the men “clean”.)

Jesus didn’t come close to them; he didn’t touch them; but, never mind, off they went like a shot - “and as they went, they were cleansed”. That’s fairly impressive faith, I would say!

There is a strong link between childlike faith and implicit obedience. As when we talked about our sharing in Jesus’ awesome power, there is a mystery here, for we know that often people of great faith – fine, rock-solid Christians – don’t in fact see answers to their pleas. There is no easy explanation for that – though both scripture and experience warn us against people who say, “The reason you aren’t healed is because you don’t have enough faith”. (Such people should be avoided!)

No, often the best demonstration of faith is to go on trusting precisely when we don’t see an answer. But that needn’t stop us praying for the gift of child-like faith.

Fourth, the beauty of gratitude.

The poet George Herbert (1593-1633), many of whose poems got turned into hymns, prayed a simple prayer: “Thou hast given so much to me… Give me one thing more: a grateful heart”.

The Samaritan in the story certainly had that, didn’t he! There was no stinting on his thanks: he “came back, praising God in a loud voice” and “threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him”. Can you see him? Can you hear him!

Have you ever noticed that people who are quick to give thanks – both to God and to other people – tend to be positive, cheerful, happy people? Why? Because they appreciate life; they don’t take it for granted; they have no sense of automatic entitlement.

We all know too how much a simple word of thanks can mean to other people: it brings sunshine into a gloomy day – or hope into the middle of a pandemic. We don’t ask for it; we certainly don’t do a good deed because we expect it. But oh the difference it makes! And even God himself enjoys our gratitude.

Fifth, the sadness of prejudice.

Why did Luke choose to add those four words at the end of verse 16: “…he was a Samaritan”? There must surely have been many fellow-Jews of Jesus who also had grateful hearts; so why pick out this particular detail about this particular man? It can’t have been by accident.

The experts tell us that there was bitter enmity between Jews and Samaritans (go to the Bible-encyclopaedias if you want to find out why – and perhaps take a look at Luke 9:51-56). Jesus referred to the man in the story as “this foreigner” (verse 18) – and if even that sounds a little off-hand, let’s not forget that one of his own greatest stories features “the good Samaritan” (Luke 10:25-37). Jesus warmed to this man rather than his fellow-Jews; that’s the point.

All over the world there are groups of people with what you can only call hatred for other groups; sometime this has a religious basis, others times political; often a mix of both. Even supporters of different football teams can hate opposing fans.

Jesus would have none of that: he was for all people. And the good news he proclaimed held out the hope that one day all such enmities would be ended. Just see what the apostle John saw: “After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no-one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the lamb…” (Revelation 7:9). (Where the word “every” actually means “every”!)

One touching aspect of the story is that the ten lepers seem to have had a good relationship with each other; they were united in their misery, whether Jew or Samaritan. Yes, in the face of terrible suffering, who cares about such differences!

But the question remains for us: What nasty shards of prejudice disfigure my heart? If I call myself a follower of Jesus, they’ve just got to go. No ifs, no buts… They’ve got to go!

Heavenly Father, grant me as I walk with Jesus a compassionate heart, generous hands, a childlike faith, a powerful spirit, and deep love for you and for all my fellow-men and women. Amen.