Where Faith Is Found

Although I'm sure it's an over-simplification, I feel like there are two related but sometimes competing questions that a preacher asks whenever he or she encounters a biblical text: what did the biblical author intend to say to his readers and what does the preacher intend to say to the congregation? I trust that a sermon is most effective when those are the same thing. When they are in complete conflict and the preacher tries to force a particular message onto an unwilling text, no one leaves satisfied. Occasionally, and here is the real peril for preachers, the text allows the preacher's message but does not exactly intend it.

Today's gospel lesson from the two-year daily Eucharistic lectionary (Luke 17:11-19) is a good example. It's the story of the ten lepers, only one of whom--a Samaritan--returns to give thanks to Jesus. If you've peeked ahead, you might know that this will be the gospel text for next Thursday, Thanksgiving Day in Year A of the lectionary. It fits, of course. It's a story of thanksgiving and the salvation ("your faith has made you well") that comes from it. Seth Olson is preaching on that text, and I'm sure he'll do a great job. Since everyone in church will be thinking about turkey and dressing and childhood hand-print Thanksgiving turkeys, on which each feather is labeled with a blessing for which the kindergarten-artist is thankful, it works to take the story of the ten lepers and preach a sermon about gratitude. But I don't think that's what Luke wanted us to think about when we read this story.

If you preached in October 2016, you might remember that this gospel lesson is also used on Proper 23C. That's prime time for preachers like me to preach about stewardship, and the one-in-ten leper who makes his way back to Jesus and discovers a promise of salvation is a pretty tempting opportunity for a preacher to invite the congregation to commit to the tithe. True faith is on display when one-tenth of the blessing is brought to the feet of Jesus in a gesture of gratitude. Again, the gospel text allows that, but I don't think that's what Luke had in mind when he wrote this text.

I'm thankful that today, an ordinary Wednesday in ordinary time, allows us to ask a question that may be impossible to ask on Thanksgiving Day or during the height of stewardship season: what does Luke say to us apart from whatever the preacher wants to tell us?

A few verses before today's gospel lesson, the disciples say to Jesus, "Lord, increase our faith!" and the Jesus replies, "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it would obey you." Then, as if to explain himself, Jesus says, "Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, 'Come here at once and take your place at the table'? Would you not rather say to him, 'Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink'? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, 'We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!'" Faith, it seems, is as much about doing what we are called to do as about what we believe.

As soon as Luke writes these words about faithfulness, he recalls the encounter between Jesus and the ten lepers. "On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee." In other words, he was travelling in between his homeland and hostile territory. It's no accident that he was somewhere in the middle--neither safe nor in jeopardy yet also both at the same time. He was approached by ten lepers, who, knowing the religious customs of the day, kept their distance, yet they cried out, "Jesus, master, have mercy on us!" They were asking him for help. Although small, it was a sign of faith. They knew of Jesus, and they expected that he could provide the healing that they wanted. Jesus responded with the expected religious instruction that would be given to someone who was healed of leprosy: "Go and show yourselves to the priests" They were the ones who could authorize the formerly leprous individuals to reenter society. As they went on their way, all ten "were made clean," which is to say that they were healed of the disease. Then one of them, who was a Samaritan, turned around, praised God with a loud voice, and returned to Jesus and fell down at his feet. Jesus said, "Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?"
 
In a way, this passage functions as a parable that has been presented to us as a narrative. The dramatic conclusion--the only one who comes back to Jesus is a Samaritan--is the kind of shocking ending that we would expect in one of Jesus' hyperbolic stories.  Luke is the only one that includes this encounter, and it is no coincidence that Luke is also the only gospel writer to tell the story of the good Samaritan, another story of faith with a surprising twist at the end. There is a message of gratitude and stewardship that is imbedded within the text, but the core story that is presented to us is one of genuine faith in an unexpected place. Those who were expected to identify Jesus as God's anointed one were the Jewish lepers who never turned around. The Samaritan, whose faith ignored the possibility of a saving messiah, should not have been the one to turn around and identify Jesus as the one through whom thanks to God should be given. Yet that's where faith is to be found.

If Jesus were to lift up an example of genuine faith in our community and culture, where would he turn? What story would he tell? What person would he point to? If we had faith the size of a mustard seed, we could say to that crepe myrtle, "Be uprooted and planted in the sea!" and it would obey us. What does it mean to have faith like that? When you come in from working in the fields, don't expect to be asked to sit down at the table and enjoy a nice meal. You've got more work to do. Put an apron around your waist and get to serving. Where will those truly faithful servants be found? Not where we expect them. They are not the ones who practice Christianity--the religion that takes Jesus' name--but the ones who see Jesus as the one who brings salvation to the world and who fall at Jesus' feet in gratitude.

Is the church the place where true faith is to be found? Does the church exist as the presumed vehicle through which faith in God is transmitted? If so, we've missed the point. What does it take for the church to become the place where people throw themselves down at Jesus' feet--not the church's feet--because church is the place where Jesus' saving work has been revealed? What does it take? More people with aprons.