Who cares?

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

This little story runs to just nine verses, not much more than a hundred words. Yet it conjures up a whole world, if only we will read it slowly, and use our imaginations. (Why not take a minute do that right now…?)

Jesus, with his disciples, is heading for Jerusalem, where he knows he will die. Suddenly he hears his name being shouted out: “Jesus, master, have pity on us!” Lepers! – standing at a distance, as the law required them to do, but determined that he would notice them.

And notice them he does! And so a wonderful miracle story unfolds…

These nine verses speak to us of many things. Here are a few that came to my mind…

First, the claims of the needy.

That huddle of men with leprosy, wretched, bedraggled and ragged, cry out for pity – and there were few people in the world where Jesus lived who were more truly pitiful.

Leprosy was probably not the same disease then as the one known by that name today. But whatever precise form it took, it was pretty much a living death: because of its infectious nature, sufferers had to bid farewell to their families and the only communities they had ever known, and survive as best they could on their own or in the kind of groups we read about in this story. They depended on the kindness of others, quite possibly strangers, to leave them food. Talk about “social distancing”!

In the western world today such sights are mercifully rare, though from my many years in London I can’t help thinking of the beggars sitting outside the tube stations pleading for a few coins. Pitiful is indeed the word. In other parts of the world, sadly, this is common.

But even in the prosperous parts of the world the needy cry out to us for pity, and we see them vividly on our television screens and in the charity literature which drops through our letter-boxes or into our inboxes.

Which raises the question: Jesus noticed them and responded to their cry. Jesus cared. So what about me?

On the Day of Judgment our lives will be scrutinised by God. We need have no fear for our salvation if our trust is in Jesus for, as Paul puts it, there is “no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1). But as we recall not just the many bad things that we did, but, even more, the many good things we didn’t do, I wonder how we will feel? – the stretched out hands of the needy which we never noticed, or which we noticed but ignored? the cries of the suffering to which we turned deaf ears?

O Lord, give us compassionate hearts! Amen.

Second, the sheer power of Jesus.

Sometimes, when he healed, Jesus made physical contact with the sick person – he put mud on the eyes of the blind; he even touched those with leprosy. But other times a shout of command was enough, as here: “‘Go, show yourselves to the priests’. And as they went, they were cleansed”.

We marvel at the power of his word. It reminds us of the beginning of creation, when Almighty God spoke the very universe into existence: “‘Let there be light!’ And there was light” (Genesis 1:1). It reminds us too of that electrifying moment when Jesus stood at the tomb of Lazarus and called him back from the dead: “‘Lazarus, come out!’ And the dead man came out…” (John 11:43-44).

Power! How Jesus had it! And how sadly we lack it. Yet he tells his followers a little later that they were destined to be channels of that very power: “Whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater works than these (!)… I will do whatever you ask in my name…” (John 14:12-13).

After a lifetime of reading the Bible I still have no clear idea of exactly what he meant. But I do know that the apostles in Acts were empowered to do amazing things, and that we stand in the same line, for have we too not received the gift of the Holy Spirit? And doesn’t the same promise belong to us as to them: “You will receive power after the Holy Spirit comes on you…”? (Acts 1:8).

I suspect that sometimes we subconsciously expect to be ineffective, weak and defeated – yes, we who are called to be “more than conquerors” (not just ordinary, bog-standard conquerors, note!) through him who loves us” (Romans 8:37). Do we need a complete re-think of our expectations…?

Lord Jesus Christ, give us, we pray, just a little of your awesome power! Amen.

I’ve shared two of the thoughts that reflecting on this story brought to my mind. But there’s still more! So please join me again next time…

Soften my heart, Lord,/ Soften my heart./ From all indifference/ Set me apart,/ To feel your compassion,/ To weep with your tears;/ Come soften my heart, O Lord,/ Soften my heart. Amen.

Graham Kendrick