Do This, not That

sixth sunday after the epiphany

Shepherd of the Hills Ev. Lutheran Church (WELS)

Mark 1:40-45

⁴⁰ A man with leprosy came to him and begged him on his knees, “If you are willing, you can make me clean.” ⁴¹ Jesus was indignant. He reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” ⁴² Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cleansed. ⁴³ Jesus sent him away at once with a strong warning: ⁴⁴ “See that you don’t tell this to anyone. But go, show yourself to the priest and offer the sacrifices that Moses commanded for your cleansing, as a testimony to them.” ⁴⁵ Instead he went out and began to talk freely, spreading the news. As a result, Jesus could no longer enter a town openly but stayed outside in lonely places. Yet the people still came to him from everywhere. (NIV)

How many hands did you shake this morning?   Any pats on the back?  How many hugs did you share?  I would imagine that if pressed, we’d even find out that a few of you probably kissed this morning at some point, preferably after all the teeth had been brushed.  The simple act of physical touch is something that is such a routine part of most of our lives that we don’t give it all that much thought.  It’s normal.  It’s natural.  You won’t receive any horrified looks or stares of shock just because you shook someone else’s hand.  A shared hug between friends isn’t going to merit rebuke or admonishment.  We generally understand and even welcome the opportunity to have that kind of physical interaction with family members and friends.

In fact, studies show more and more that human touch is essential to healthy development starting already at birth. Early on in the last century, when no disease or illnesses appeared to be responsible for affecting the poor development or even death of infants in orphanages, it was eventually discovered that a lack of human touch was a major factor.  Infants who were held or touched 45 minutes a day were much healthier than those who were not, even though all other care they received was the same.  The discovery of our need for human touch bears out in the delivery room in hospitals nowadays.  Those of you who whose children are all grown up may recall that when your children were born decades ago, they were taken and placed in the nursery right away.  Today though, the newborn is immediately given to mom and, whenever possible, allowed to stay right there in the room with mom until being discharged from the hospital.  A lack of human touch can result in increased levels of anger, anxiety, and depression both in children and adults.  Patients with dementia appear to do much better with even small amounts of human touch.  Think of how often a simple touch on the hand, a brief backrub, or a hug has calmed you down or reassured you.  Human touch is one of the most basic human needs.  We thrive on it.

Now imagine the leper in this morning’s Gospel going for who-knows-how-long without any physical touch.  Physical touch simply was forbidden for lepers, often times because the disease was highly contagious, but even when it wasn’t contagious, it still relegated a person to the status of being ceremonially unclean.  Anyone who would therefore touch a ceremonially unclean leper would himself become ceremonially unclean.  No touch was allowed.  In fact, there were certain rules about how far away from other people lepers had to remain, and how their faces were to be covered, and how they were to yell “unclean, unclean” if someone approached them too closely.  Days would turn into weeks, weeks would turn into months, months could in some cases turn into a year or more without any human touch.  Imagine living without any sort of physical touch from another human being!  Such limited human interaction would be torture for most of us.

So try to understand what the leper must have felt when Jesus did the unthinkable: he reached out and touched him.  That touch in and of itself would have been such a remarkable and welcome feeling, to say nothing of what that touch accomplished.  Jesus’ touch did more than just offer much needed human interaction for the leper; his touch brought healing.  It wasn’t a process, there was no ongoing treatment necessary, the leper was not required to do a thing to be healed.  Jesus simply touched him, and “Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cured” (v.42).

The account recorded in our Gospel this morning is a relatively short one, but it provides us much spiritual food for thought, nonetheless.  Just about anyone or anything can serve as an example in any given situation.  It might be a good example, or it might be a bad example, but someone or something can always serve as an example.  In the leper we have both.  We have a good example, and we have a poor example.  May the Holy Spirit open our eyes to recognize both this morning.

See how the leper approached Jesus.  “A man with leprosy came to him and begged him on his knees, ‘If you are willing, you can make me clean” (v.40).  He had a need, and he knew Jesus could meet it.  The “if” was not a matter of if Jesus could heal him or not, but was rather a matter of if Jesus would heal him or not.    He had every confidence in Jesus’ ability; it was simply a matter of will.  If Jesus so desired, he could make the leper well, and the leper clearly acknowledged that before Jesus.

Yet he didn’t expect it or demand it.  He didn’t arrogantly assume it was his right to be healed by Jesus.  Neither did he try to barter with Jesus, offering him something in return for being healed: “I’ll be nicer.  I’ll give more.  I’ll go to church more.  I’ll do whatever you want if you just heal me.”  Instead, he approached Jesus humbly and begged him from his knees.  The leper was bold.  He was confident.  But at the same time his demeanor and whole attitude in approaching Jesus was characterized by humility.

It’s a rare combination that isn’t often seen today.  While we see plenty of confidence exuded, it isn’t very often tempered with humility.  Politicians confidently make promises, but when they aren’t kept it isn’t a humble apology that is heard, but an arrogant excuse.  Experts speak confidently on this topic or that, but if they make a flawed point that isn’t supported anywhere else, when a little humility might be in order, it’s nowhere to be found.  Athletes confidently guarantee a win, but after the loss we rarely hear them humbly apologizing for making such a guarantee in the first place.  Confidence coupled with humility is a rare find in our world today.

It can also be a rare find in the church.  Either we lack confidence in God in some area, or we’re overconfident in ourselves.  Either one can easily lead to a lack of humility before God.  If we don’t think he can get the job done for us, then what place is there for humility before him, or, if we think we can do it better or handle it ourselves, then again, what place is there for humility before him?  The same misplaced confidence in self that plagued Adam & Eve has also been handed down to us today.  It’s one thing to fail to trust that God is able to do a thing; it’s another to wrongly assume that we can do it better.  When such arrogant self confidence resides in our hearts, there’s simply no room left for humility. 

That’s where the leper serves as a fine example for us.  He blended confidence with humility.  He was confident in Jesus, but humble in approaching him.  Let us follow suit.

But the other example given us by the leper wasn’t so hot.  Jesus healed him, but then followed it up with a stern warning: “‘See that you don’t tell this to anyone. But go, show yourself to the priest and offer the sacrifices that Moses commanded for you cleansing, as a testimony to them.’ Instead he went out and began to talk freely, spreading the news” (v.44,45a).  On the one hand, it would appear that Jesus’ command seemed out of place; after all, who wouldn’t want to run and tell everyone what had just happened?  So why did Jesus give the command to keep mum? 

Perhaps knowing that the priests would be some of his most bitter rivals, he wanted them to be the first to witness and validate what Jesus had done.  Or, it seems quite plausible that Jesus was concerned about gaining popularity for the wrong reason.  He may not have wanted the word to spread about him being the Healer, so that it wouldn’t compromise the message about him being the Savior.  Whatever Jesus’ reasons, the leper failed to obey.  And because of it, there were consequences.  “As a result [of his failure to obey], Jesus could no longer enter a town openly but stayed outside in lonely places” (v.45b).  Because of the leper’s disobedience, Jesus couldn’t show up in town anymore.  Who knows how many missed out on hearing his gospel message because of it?  Sadly, the leper’s fine example of confident humility was marred by his poor example of disobedience.

And, just as sadly, we often times find ourselves following the leper’s poor example of disobedience rather than his fine example of confident humility.  We treat the Ten Commandments as if they’re merely the Ten Suggestions.  We’re so quick to point out the areas where others fail to obey, but slow to acknowledge our own disobedience in our areas of sinful weakness. 

All of these are reasons we need to see more than just the leper as an example in this morning’s Gospel: we need to see Jesus as our Savior.  And although it is but a small glimpse of his power, his interaction with the leper shows us an overarching principal about Jesus that applies across the board to his interaction with all mankind: the Lord’s compassion takes action.  Jesus did not step back from the leper and wish him well from a distance, reasoning that he didn’t want to risk becoming unclean.  His compassion (much better than the NIV 2011’s “indignant”) compelled him to do something about the leper’s plight.  It moved him to heal and make whole.

That same compassion took action on behalf of all people in a world suffering from something much worse than any physical disease –  the eternal death sentence of separation from God.  Jesus’ compassion moved him to do something about it.  So he replaced our prevalent disobedience with his perfect obedience.  His confidence came from carrying out his Father’s will, which he did from start to finish as a humble servant.  God the Father was so pleased with Jesus’ humble confidence and flawless obedience that he went ahead and applied it to our accounts.  Christ is our confidence.  Christ is our humility.  Christ is our perfect obedience.

But compassion didn’t just take action in Jesus’ life; it also took action in his death… the death he died for all people.  Time and again we are amazed and impressed with Jesus’ miracles and healings, just as we were again this morning.  But could compassion go to any greater length than for one to willingly end his life so that life for others could truly begin?  Can anything in life come close to accomplishing what Jesus did by his death?  By his resurrection?  No!  See Jesus’ bloodied and disfigured body on display at his crucifixion and you see compassion.  That is what compassion looks like.  That was the ugly price paid to pronounce your beautiful forgiveness. 

The leper serves as an example; Jesus served as your Savior.  Rejoice that his compassion took action for you.  Let your humble confidence always rest in him alone as you thankfully live a life of loving obedience.  Amen.