“God’s anonymous: Ten lepers”
Luke 17:11-13
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus.
It’s the kind of thing you see in movies. But for one California police officer, it was just another day on the job.
Back in August of 2020, just before nine o’clock one Wednesday morning, Officer Erica Urrea was, as usual, out on patrol in her town of Lodi, California. And as she drove along, she happened to notice that a man, in a wheelchair, was stuck on the tracks. Worse yet, a train was coming, the signal lights were flashing and the crossing arms were coming down.
And as the train’s horn grew louder and louder, she quickly jumped out of her patrol car and raced toward the man. But she couldn’t free the wheels stuck in the tracks, so she grabbed him and yanked him out of his wheelchair. And as they both came tumbling to the ground, five seconds later, the 250-ton freight train went screaming by.
Recognizing her for her heroism and bravery, Amtrack’s Police Chief Sam Dotson said, “The citizens of Lodi are very fortunate to have a public servant like this on duty in their community. This ‘Life Saving Medal’ recognizes her bravery in saving a fellow human being without hesitation for her own safety.”
And Urrea said, “It’s one of those situations where if one of my family members was stuck or needed help, I would hope that someone would stop and help them and that was just the situation.”
Needless to say, had it not been for her, the man in the wheelchair, simply identified as “Jonathan,” would not be here today.
So it was in the words of our text from Luke chapter 17. I’ll begin reading at verse 11: “On the way to Jerusalem He was passing along between Samaria and Galilee. And as He entered a village, He was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices, saying, ‘Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.’ When He saw them He said to them, ‘Go and show yourselves to the priests’” (Luke 17:11-14).
It’s a tribute to modern medicine that we know little, if anything, about leprosy. Most of us have never seen a leper or even a picture of a leper. The only thing we know about them is what we read in the Bible.
But if we had lived in Jesus’ day, we would have known so much more. In Bible times, leprosy was the most feared disease in the world. It was deadly, hopeless and incurable. In rabbinic writings there are remedies for diseases of all kinds, but there’s nothing listed for leprosy. In fact, rabbis said that curing leprosy was like raising the dead.
It was so feared and its potential for wiping out an entire population was so great that God, in His Word, laid down the severest prescription of all. He said in the book of Numbers: “Command the children of Israel that they put every leper out of the camp” (Numbers 5:2).
“Put them out,” He said. “Send them away.” No family, no friends, no job, no worship and no hope. In the words of Jewish historian Josephus, lepers were treated as if they were dead men.
In his book, The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah, Alfred Edersheim wrote, “No one was to salute a leper...no less than a distance of six feet should be kept from a leper or if the wind came from that direction, a hundred would scarcely suffice.”
Adults avoided them, young children cried when they saw them and older ones threw stones at them. They were dressed as mourners going to their own burial service, and made their homes in caves. They lived without love, without hope and without the simple joys and dignities of life, like being greeted on the street, buying fresh fruit in the marketplace, receiving an invitation to a wedding, singing hymns in the synagogue, and celebrating Passover with family and friends. All human contact was forbidden until the day they died.
So how did it all begin? First, you’d see a small patch of skin on your forehead, nose, ear, cheek or chin that would turn pink, then white, then spread rapidly in all directions. It would bleach your hair making it as white as snow, and would cover your skin with dry scales and oozing sores. That is, by the way, how leprosy got its name. It comes from the word “lepros,” a word that means “scale.”
And while the disease was spreading externally, it also spread internally. Your eyebrows would disappear and tumors would form across your body. Your hands and feet would curl inward and your nerve endings would be destroyed, making it impossible to feel any pain.
So what’s so bad about not feeling pain? Without a sense of touch, you could bump into something without even knowing it, and break a toe. You could pick up something and scrape your fingers raw. You could spill boiling water on your leg and never even notice the scalding burns. You could cut your head and not know it, until you saw blood dripping down your face.
Medical missionary Paul Brand once told the story of how he tried to open the door of a storeroom when a rusty padlock wouldn’t budge. Just then, a young malnourished ten-year-old boy reached for the key. “Let me try,” he said. And with a quick jerk of his hand, he turned the key in the rusty lock.
Brand was dumbfounded. How could some apparently weak little boy have more strength than him? But when he looked at the boy’s hand, he saw the key had gashed his finger down to the bone. Skin, fat and joint were all exposed, but the boy didn’t feel it, so he didn’t know.
Let’s look again at the text. Verse 12: “And as He entered a village, He was met by ten lepers, who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices, saying, ‘Jesus, Master, have mercy on us’” (Luke 17:12-13).
Now we don’t know when and we don’t know how, but somehow these ten men had heard about Jesus. They knew He had healed others and they hoped that somehow He might have the power and the compassion to heal them too. So standing at a distance and crying out with the loudest of their diseased, hoarse, raspy voices, they said, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us.”
As one commentator put it, “There had never been a more pitiful sounding choir in all of Israel.”
Now for just a moment, I’d like you to freeze that picture in your mind. I’d like you to substitute your face for the face of one of those lepers--your hands for his, your feet for his, and your life for his. For his story is your story as well as the story of every man, woman and child on earth. Each of us, because of our sin, because of our poor, miserable thoughts, words and deeds, is just as condemned to death as a leper. Left on our own, we have no hope of life or of heaven. If we will be saved, it will be by the grace of God alone.
We’ve already heard the lepers speak. Now it’s your turn. Are you willing to ask Him? “Jesus, Master, have pity on me. Heal me. Help me. Make me whole.”
And what did Jesus do? What did He say? He said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.”
It’s funny if you think about it. Why should they go to priests? They had leprosy. Anyone would tell you that those priests would simply cover their faces and send them away.
But that’s just how it is with Jesus. He said to a man with a withered hand, “Stretch out your hand.” He said to a paralyzed man lying on the ground, “Pick up your mat and go home.” And He said to Lazarus, four days dead in a cold stone grave, “Come out!”
Yet it was in that moment, as Jesus sent them to the priests, that something amazing began to happen. First, one step, and they were still lepers. A second step and still nothing. A third step and the leprosy still clung to their limbs.
But on the fourth step, something wonderful, something unbelievable happened. Instantly, miraculously, a hand reappeared, tingling with new life. A crutch tripped on a filthy rag as it fell to the ground. Legs were suddenly healthy, whole and complete.
And in that moment, one looked at the other, another looked at the rest, and that’s when the screaming started. Smiles broke into cheering. And off they ran, hardly believing that their dream had finally come true.
And at the heart of it all was this Man named Jesus.
Have you ever noticed that whenever we meet Him in Scripture, He welcomes anyone who ever comes to Him? It never mattered who they were--man or woman, young or old, fisherman or farmer, priest or prostitute, soldier or rebel, cop or criminal, ruler or slave, rich or poor, educated or unedcuated, religious or rotten, of sound mind or demon-possessed, healthy or a leper, Jesus warmly welcomed anyone who wanted to meet Him or to get know Him better. He never once hinted that He was too important or too busy or too good for anyone, however poor or sick they were.
And when they met Him, they found a combination of humility and authority they couldn’t find anywhere else, an astonishing union of tenderness and toughness. One moment, He’s blessing babies; the next, He’s confronting rulers. One moment, He’s lying exhausted and asleep in a boat in the middle of a storm; the next, He’s ordering the storm around. One moment, He’s weeping at the grave of a friend; the next, He’s ordering death itself to release that friend. One moment, He’s on His knees like a slave, washing His disciples’ feet; the next, He says He’s their Lord and Master.
Though He didn’t even have a small hut for a home, He strode through God’s temple with a whip as if He owned the place. He didn’t have a penny to His name, yet the whole world was His.
Jesus felt the weakness, pain and poverty of humanity, yet at the same time He unleashed the power, healing and abundance of God. And though He once came in humility, He promises to come again as Judge of all the world.
Could even the least human be more humble or more vulnerable? Could even almighty God be greater or more powerful?
Who else can He be but God and Man, fully human and fully divine?
The year was 1205 and while a 24-year-old man was riding his horse near a small town in central Italy, he saw something in the distance that scared him to death--a man covered in leprosy. His skin was half gone, his face was disfigured, and the smell was so bad that he wanted to hold his nose and turn the other way.
But instead of turning away, he remembered what God had once said to him in a prayer: “The things that used to make you shudder will bring you great sweetness and contentment.”
So he stepped down off his horse and put a few coins in the leper’s hands. Then he put his arms around him and kissed him. And from that moment on, he made it his mission to not run from them in horror, but to wash their bodies, dress their wounds and treat them as fellow human beings, in desperate need of God’s grace.
Later he wrote, “Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is despair, let me sow hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy; all for Your mercy’s sake.”
God has given us a mission too--to reach out to those around us. May He give us that same heart filled with compassion.
How good it is to know, dear Father, that You are God and that You are good. By Your grace, fill our hearts with not only mercy and compassion, but thanksgiving and praise, for Jesus’ sake. Amen