A man named Stein goes into the pet store to buy a parrot. There are three sitting in the cage, so he points to the first one, asking the price for the bird. $500, says the store owner. What makes the bird worth $500? Stein asks. The storekeeper says, This parrot knows the entire five books of Moses! Listen! And the bird flawlessly recites the verses from memory. Now, Stein was impressed, but he was still shopping, so he points to the second parrot. $3,000 – he knows the entire Talmud! The bird then answers the most difficult questions on Jewish Law that Stein can come up with. Impressive! So he points to the last parrot. How much? $5,000. $5,000? What can the bird possibly know to cost so much? Well, says the storeowner, we really aren’t sure. èèè But the other two call him Rabbi. We know that jokes and stories can teach, as well as amuse. Jesus knew this too. His parables and miracles were meant to carry a meaning for us today, far beyond what the people of His time saw and heard. St. Paul’s letter to Timothy says that even though he was suffering in prison, chained like a criminal, the Word of God was not chained. That is the way that the living Word of God works. In Vatican City two years ago this month, our Bishops closed their Synod on “The Word of God in the Life and the Mission of the Church,” using some pretty powerful imagery that summarizes the gift of eternal truth that we share, breaking open the Word together. Here is what the Bishops had to say about God’s Word:
“The divine Voice sounds at the origin of Creation giving rise to the wonders of the universe. It is a Voice that penetrates into history, a history lacerated by human sin and troubled by suffering and death. It is a Voice that descends into the pages of the Sacred Scripture which we now read in the Church, with the guidance of the Holy Spirit.”
Imagine: God’s own Voice of creation, penetrating our history, freeing us from our sin and suffering.
And it so true: Scripture continually overturns our accepted values. Throughout the history of salvation, the last are first, shepherd boys become kings, and outsiders teach important lessons to insiders. Who in Old Testament Israel would ever expect God to show mercy to a Syrian like Naaman? And to the audience of Jesus’ day, who would ever expect a lesson in gratitude from a leprous Samaritan?
Most of us don’t know very much about leprosy, an infectious disease that has been known since Biblical times. It’s characterized by disfiguring skin sores, nerve damage, and progressive debilitation. The World Health Organization reported over 213,000 diagnosed cases in 2009, so the disease is still with us. But while doctors have recently begun using multi-drug treatments on lepers and get good results, in the days of Elisha and Jesus, contact with a leper didn’t just make you unclean. Contracting the disease was a sure sentence to a horrible, lonely death.
So what is God telling us when lepers are cured, freed from this dread disease, with their lives restored?
In the Gospel account, the one who is doubly despised as Samaritan and leper, stops in his tracks and turns around, praising God at the top of his lungs. Unthinkable only moments before, this former outcast falls at Jesus’ feet, thanks Him, and is told that his faith has saved him. Not a bad turn of events! Bible translators use the Greek verb, “sozein” to describe the healing of the Samaritan leper, a word that means both “heal” and “save.” This miracle of healing performed by Jesus isn’t only physical, but life-changing. As Jesus heals and saves this outsider, he goes forward a changed man, in body and spirit. We listen for God’s Voice in our lives, even as God heals and saves us. This was made abundantly clear a year ago this weekend, when our own Little Sister, St. Jeanne Jugan, was canonized by Pope Benedict XVI in Rome. But if you will remember, leprosy was in the news this time last year too. Father Damien who is known as the Apostle of the Lepers, was the Church’s ninth canonized saint to have lived and served in what is now the United States of America.
This Belgium-born “Leper Priest” was ordained in Honolulu, Hawaii, and nine years later, volunteered to serve in the leper colony on Molokai. Damien cared for lepers of all ages, but was particularly concerned about the children of the segregated colony. He announced he was a leper in 1885 and continued to build hospitals, clinics, and churches, and some six hundred coffins, until his death in 1889 at age 49. Fittingly, today St. Damien is the unofficial patron of those with HIV and AIDS, representing the lepers and outcasts of our day. On October 11, 2009, Pope Benedict recognized the fear and the loathing of leprosy, while recognizing the courage of Damien’s convictions:
“Father Damian made the choice to go on the island of Molokai in the service of lepers abandoned by all. He exposed himself to the disease of which they suffered. With them he felt at home. The servant of the Word became a suffering servant, leper with the lepers, during the last four years of his life.
Father Damian staked his own life, to receive eternal life” In a few moments, we will gather around our Eucharistic Table, to give thanks to the God who heals us and saves us from our sin. We gather as one people, with all of the saints who have gone before us, and with those still in our midst, that saint on your left, and that saint on your right, telling and retelling our stories.
We are never alone in this journey that can sometimes seem like a battle, so let’s ask for help from our patrons:
St. John Francis Regis – pray for us.
St. John Baptist DeLa Salle – pray for us.
St. Jeanne Jugan – pray for us.
St. Damien – pray for us.
All you holy men and women — pray for us.
