Ingratitude or Not

The Gospel reading today is one that we often see at Thanksgiving. It is the story of the 10 lepers who were cured by Jesus, and only one returned to thank him. Every homily I have ever heard preached on this Gospel revolved around ingratitude. The 9 who did not return were ungrateful. Those homilies always reminded me how important it is to be grateful for the ways God touches my life and the ways he heals me.

That is certainly valid. But, as I prayed with this reading, I realized there was more to it than I thought. There was more to it than the obvious message. Perhaps God was asking me to look at the story with eyes of compassion, not eyes of judgment. Maybe He wanted me to walk in the sandals of the 9 for a little while.

I have always thought all the cured leapers were men. They probably weren’t. Men got leprosy, women also got it, and so did children. Already the reading was starting to take on a different flavor. 

So why didn’t the 9 lepers who were cured return to Jesus? Walk with me in their sandals.

James was cured. He was so excited to see his family and those he loved that James went running directly home to find them. It had been years since James had seen them and touched them. James told every person he saw about this great man of God. James was so happy, and excited that he  simply forgot.

Matthias was afraid to go back. This was the most fantastic thing, and he was scared to look back at his life. He was worried it was all a dream, and he didn’t want to wake up. Finally, Matthias had hope and was holding onto it, fearing it would slip away.

Elizabeth was too sad to go back to Jesus. Finally, she could go home, and there was no home. Her family and friends had moved on, and Elizabeth could not find them. Elizabeth was all alone in the world, and she hurt.

Simon was angry, so he certainly wasn’t going back to say thank you. He had finally accepted his leprosy and knew how to live with it. Even though it was a burden, Simon had learned to carry it. He never expected to be healed, and now he no longer knew how to live. How could Jesus do this to him?

Deborah was unwanted. She was so grateful to be cleaned. And was sure her family would welcome her home. But they didn’t trust the cure. They didn’t trust her. They didn’t want her back.

Bartholomew had gotten his hopes up before and had been disappointed. This was a trick; he would wake up and realize it was only a dream. He looked at his arms, legs, and face in the pool; even though they were gone, he still saw the sores.

John wanted to go back. He did go back, but by the time he got done being declared clean by the priest and finding his family, Jesus had moved on. John tried but couldn’t find him.

Mary was 11 years old. She had been sent away when she was 6. That was when the disease started. She didn’t know how to say thank you. She had never had anyone to teach her. She had never had anyone to love her. She still didn’t.

Lydia was so overwhelmed by the cleansing that she did not believe herself worthy of being in the healer’s presence. She went to the temple, where she spent the rest of her life praying and giving thanks to God.

This is little more than the fanciful run of my imagination. But what isn’t fanciful is that we often judge when we don’t know the whole story. We don’t know what people carry as burdens. We don’t know their life. We often believe wrongly. We see in others negative motivations when what happened was just real life.

If there is a message in this very well-known Gospel today, it is to cut others slack when they don’t act or respond in the most appropriate way. We don’t walk in their shoes. We don’t know their hearts. We don’t know the burdens they carry. 

Jesus did not take back the cure because they appeared on the surface to be ungrateful. So the cure remained, and with love, Jesus accepted the nine who did not return. Perhaps we need to learn to do the same.

In God’s Unending Love,

Gwen