Loving the Outcast Back into Community

Today’s lessons include two stories about lepers.

I think it’s somewhat difficult for us to understand what it was like for lepers in biblical times.

First, because we have a better understanding of the causes of disease and routes of transmission.

And second, we have, to a certain extent, abandoned the concept of ritual purity and the need to banish people designated as “unclean”.

Because of this, we might miss the fact that leprosy was more than just a painful and disfiguring disease.

It also removed people from their communities.

Naaman appears to be somewhat immune to isolation, presumably because of his power and his standing in the community.

But, for the vast majority of lepers, the disease meant not only illness but also exile.

So, being healed of leprosy meant not only a physical elimination of disease but also a restoration to community.

Even the significance of that is hard for us to understand because we are culturally conditioned to value the individual over the community.

I think we can get a flavor of it by thinking back to the height of the pandemic when we were socially isolating.

We wanted to be with each other in church, but we were forced to stay in our homes.

Some of us gathered online.

But others didn’t—or couldn’t.

But, for most of us, the online worship experience paled in comparison to being together in person.

Magnify that feeling of disappointment until it is heartache and we can begin to understand the feeling of being ostracized.

So, leprosy was not only a disease of the body.

It touched the mind and the spirit.

And being healed of leprosy, not only cured the body but also restored the mind and the spirit.

Everyone knows that St. Francis had a love of animals.

We talked about it last week.

Our blessing of the animals coincides with the feast of St. Francis.

There are garden statues of St. Francis surrounded by animals as well as St. Francis bird baths and bird feeders.

But there is a lesser-known story about St. Francis—and that is that he had an affinity for lepers.

The story goes that St. Francis had a fear and abhorrence of lepers.

However, one day, he met a man afflicted with leprosy while riding his horse near Assisi.

Though the sight of the leper filled him with horror and disgust, Francis got off his horse and kissed him.

Then the leper put out his hand, hoping to receive something.

Out of compassion, Francis gave money to the leper.

But when Francis mounted his horse again and looked all around, he could not see the leper anywhere.

It dawned on him that it was Jesus whom he had just kissed.

Francis had an experience of what Jesus said in chapter 25 of the gospel of Matthew:

“The truth is, every time you did this for the least of my siblings, you did it for me.”

While Francis didn’t cure the disease, he did soothe the leper’s mind and spirit.

Francis recognized the image of God in the leper.

He acknowledged his sibling—a fellow child of God.

And thus began the ministry of Franciscans to lepers

While today’s lessons are powerful stories about miraculous healing and experiences of the divine, I believe that it may be more useful for us to look at them as metaphorical.

In our context, I believe it is valuable to look at lepers—a community that we thankfully no longer have—as some of the marginalized groups that we do have.

On this Indigenous Peoples Sunday, it seems appropriate to consider indigenous people.

White European settlers committed genocide.

That’s an ugly truth many would prefer not to face.

And the indigenous people that we didn’t kill—we pushed out of their ancestral homes and exiled to reservations.

To this day, indigenous people confined to reservations experience the highest rates of unemployment, substance abuse, domestic violence, and suicide.

In the current political climate, it also seems appropriate to look at the treatment of immigrants and trans people.

White Christian Nationalists vilify them—blame them for every ill of society.

And now, immigrants are being rounded up—without due process, separated from their families, detained under inhumane conditions, and deported—sometimes into dangerous situations in countries to which they have no connection.

Transgender people are being threatened with being characterized as Nihilistic Violent Extremists.

There are already states where they cannot access gender-affirming healthcare.

They are feeling increasingly unsafe in their own country, and many are developing exit strategies—emergency plans to leave the country quickly should the risk to their families suddenly increase.

If ever there was a time for us to ask ourselves, “what would Jesus do?”, this has to be it.

Good God almighty is there any doubt amongst you that Jesus would opt for compassion?

For recognizing the image of God in every human being?

For including, rather than excluding?

For restoring people to their families and their communities?

The sad truth my friends is that we can almost excuse first century Jews for excluding lepers because they didn’t know how the disease was transmitted.

Excluding lepers from society was seen as a way to protect the community—to prevent the spread of a disease for which there was no known cure.

It was ignorant but it wasn’t malicious.

Committing genocide, exiling indigenous people, deporting innocent immigrants, and painting trans people as dangerous is evil.

They are the actions of empire—pure and simple.

The actions of a powerful minority trying desperately to maintain status quo.

They are not actions that bring us any closer to the Kin-dom—quite the opposite.

They are actions wholly inconsistent with the Way of Jesus.

So, where do we go from here?

What does looking at the two stories about lepers have to tell us about our world and our time?

Earlier, I mentioned St. Francis and his affinity for lepers.

In his Testament, Francis wrote, “When I was in sin, the sight of lepers nauseated me beyond measure; but then God himself led me into their company, and I had pity on them.

When I became acquainted with them, what had previously nauseated me became the source of spiritual and physical consolation for me.”

St. Francis repented of his fear and his hatred.

He had compassion.

Because he saw the image of God in the lepers.

Because he knew Jesus told us, “every time you do for the least of these, you do for me.”

Because loving the lepers became a spiritual practice for him.

It became how he journeyed on the Way of Jesus.

That, I believe is the lesson for us today.

We are called by God to let go of our fear and our hatred.

And, for those of us who the ones being feared and hated—who think we have nothing to let go of—think again.

Every oppressor is themselves oppressed.

They are oppressed by their fear and their hatred.

We can hate their actions and their behavior and their rhetoric.

But they too are beloved children of God—as hard as that may be for us to admit.

No one is beyond redemption.

Everyone is a recipient of God’s abundant grace.

Because every human being is loved unconditionally by God.

Called by name.

And claimed as God’s own.

While loving someone that spews hate or commits evil is hard, it is the example set for us by Jesus.

There is a popular meme floating around the internet that says, “The test of being Christian isn’t loving Jesus, it’s loving Judas.”

There’s so much truth in that.

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.

Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.”

Those are words of wisdom for us.

May we always fight for justice in our pursuit of the Kin-dom.

But ALWAYS with love in our hearts.

Because love is the ultimate power.

And only love can drive out hate.

Only love can achieve true justice.

Only love can provide shalom—the wholeness and abiding peace promised to us by God.

May this contemplation on God’s word keep our hearts and minds on Christ Jesus. Amen.