Sixth Sunday After the Epiphany, Year B

Sunday, 12 February 2012: Holy Eucharist
Sixth Sunday After the Epiphany, Year B
2 Kings 5:1-14, Mark 1:40-45
The Episcopal Church of the Epiphany

O God be merciful to us and bless us. Show us the light of your countenance and come to us. Amen.

As many of you know, Tuesday is Valentine’s Day. For those of you who forgot, there’s still time for reservations and chocolates!

Over the past several days, my wife Shayanna and I have been scouring our recipe books for the perfect new dish to try out on Valentine’s Day. But while Shayanna has been focused on making grocery lists and checking to make sure we have all of the ingredients, I’ve been trying to avoid focusing on this week’s lectionary theme.

I want to be thinking about the wonderful wine and delicious food, but after reading our lessons from 2 Kings and from Mark, all I can seem to think about is leprosy!

Here we are spending time in the Hallmark section, fretting over which overpriced box of chocolates to buy, and we come to church today to read about an assortment of people who are suffering from repulsive skin diseases.

I wonder how many Hallmark cards can top that?

2 Kings recalls the story of Naaman, a stubborn man who petitions the king to be healed from leprosy. When Elisha intercedes on his behalf, commanding him to wash in the river Jordan seven times, Naaman is aghast that he could be restored to wholeness so easily! He snorted at Elisha’s command saying, “I thought that for me [you] would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the Lord [your] God, and wave [your] hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy!”[1]

But Elisha insisted, again telling Naaman to go and wash in the river Jordan seven times. It takes several of Naaman’s servants to convince him to give Elisha’s commandment a try. Eventually, he washes in the Jordan and his skin becomes clean.

We hear remnants of Naaman’s story in our Gospel lesson for today. A man with leprosy approaches Jesus and says to him, “If you choose, you can make me clean.”

But what Jesus says next is particularly interesting. The NRSV translates Jesus’ reaction to the man as Jesus being “moved with pity.” But the better and more troubling translation is, “moved with anger.”[2]

Jesus takes his hand and places it on the man and says to him, “I do choose! Be made clean!” Instantly the man is healed and so overwhelmed with joy and wonder that he is unable to abide by Jesus’ request that he tell no one what has happened. He shouts the good news at the top of his lungs!

But what about this “anger” that Jesus felt? What caused him to be so incensed at the man’s request?

Could it be that Jesus was so busy that he really didn’t have time for this man’s problems?

Could it be that Jesus knew that the man would not be able to keep silent and that healing him would get Jesus into trouble?

Could it be that Jesus knew that by touching the man, he was taking a great risk, not only becoming ritually unclean, but also taking a chance with his own health?

Or could it be that Jesus was so profoundly and viscerally moved by the man that he turned his anger at the system that sought to keep this man out of the community into action?

Instead of sending the man away to his rightful place outside the city’s gates, Jesus reaches out and touches the man. In doing so, he ignores Levitical law and social acceptability. He overthrows generations of commonly held assumptions about people who have been rejected and cast out. He touches the man, instantly healing him from his leprosy.

In an act of mercy and grace, Jesus restores the man physically, socially, and religiously to the community.

After reading these five short and seemingly straightforward verses, it might be easy for us to conclude that the moral of the story is that “Jesus cares for the marginalized and so we should, too.”

But there’s more to it than that…

The Gospel of Mark is, as you know, the shortest of the four canonical gospels. It has no birth story and, except for a later addition, no resurrection story. Mark is the “just the facts, Ma’am” version of the Gospels.

But Mark’s gospel is among the most powerful texts in the New Testament in conveying the fact that in the person of Jesus Christ, we see the Kingdom of God breaking through into our world, shattering old precepts and customs and rituals.

In fact, Mark’s Gospel is the root of the Gospels of Matthew, Luke, and much of John. Mark isn’t terribly concerned with fastidious details about Jesus.

Mark is concerned with the doing.

We are only 45 verses into the first chapter of Mark and already, Jesus is baptized and has healed three different times. Two Sundays ago, we read about Jesus healing the man with the unclean spirit.[3] Last Sunday, we read about Jesus healing several people at Simon’s house.[4] And today, we read about Jesus healing the leper.

From the beginning, Mark wants to convince us that Jesus’ ministry is inextricably bound up in caring for and healing others—especially those who have found themselves on the margins.

And that is exactly what’s going on in today’s Gospel reading from Mark.

As Jesus lays his hands upon the leprosy-stricken man, at once healing him and drawing him into the community, we can begin to see the Kingdom of God, breaking through the old values and customs that bind us to a world of hopelessness and brokenness.

This suffering and marginalized man is the embodiment of all who are suffering because of a wounded heart or mind or body. Resting on his shoulders is the weight of the community that excluded him, seeking to keep him from the healing mercy of God’s love.

When Jesus touches the man’s flesh and when the man’s ears hear the voice of the Son of God saying, “I do choose, be made clean,” our earthly values and beliefs are shattered by a loving God who does not compromise with the hopelessness and brokenness of this world.

I suspect that while very few of us have ever encountered someone with leprosy, all of us have encountered those who are marginalized and excluded from society.

When Shayanna and I moved to Atlanta, it didn’t take long for us to be confronted with the painful reality of exclusion and marginalization that manifests itself in those suffering from homelessness.

Shayanna worked at two centers that assisted people suffering from homelessness during our first year in seminary. And last summer, I worked at Emory Hospital as a chaplain, serving many people who were simultaneously suffering from illness and homelessness.

The marginalization and exclusion that comes with homelessness is painfully and publicly evident here.

But what about the hopelessness, brokenness, and marginalization that exists just under the surface of our awareness?

What about those in our midst who are victims of spousal abuse? What about the children on our playgrounds who are bullied because of misconstrued notions about the mysteries of sexuality? What about those who are struggling with depression? What about those who have nobody to love and care for them?

Some of us gathered here might be asking ourselves, what about me? What about my own struggles with hopelessness, brokenness, and marginalization?

Where can I find healing and love? Where is this Kingdom of God that seems so far off, so removed, so mythical?

Look around. The Kingdom of God is in you!

We are called to be Christ for each other, and we must pray for the grace to let others be Christ for us!

Whether it happens at the edge of the Kroger parking lot or at the edge of the pew, we are constantly given opportunities to uplift one another, to speak a word of encouragement and hope, to build a relationship that mends broken hearts and spirits, to be the figure of Christ in the midst of a world that condemns the hope of peace and reconciliation at every possible turn.

It is in these liminal spaces that we find God, seeking us, healing us, and choosing us over and over again.

It is no accident that the Gospel of Mark begins with the baptism of Jesus and proceeds immediately to his reconciling and healing work in the world. We, too, must realize that as Christians, our baptism calls us to break down all barriers—whether they are economic, social, political, religious, or something else—between human need and God’s liberating mercy.[5]

The Kingdom of God is not out there, waiting for us to stumble upon it; it is in here, waiting, hoping, and depending on us to share it with others.

It is in the waters of baptism. It is in the Holy Eucharist. It is in the prayers. It is in the laughter. It is in the tears. It is in the choices.

It is in you.

Amen.
[1] 2 Kings 5:11b
[2] σπλανχνιζομαι (splanchnizomai) is probably more accurately translated as “being inwardly moved with emotion or anger.”
[3] Mark 1:21-28.
[4] Mark 1:29-34.
[5] Brian K. Blount & Charles, Gary W., Preaching Mark in Two Voices (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2003), 102.