October 13, 2013
Reflection
What does it mean to be healed? Moreover, what does it mean to give thanks? These two experiences, so fundamental to human existence, are explored in today’s readings. The phenomenon of being healed from illness is so common as to elicit little special attention in our daily lives. For most of us, being sick is simply a mundane part of modern life—we catch the flu, we take some medications, we rest up for a few days,
and then we’re back to business as usual. Other ailments, of course, are far more damaging to our health and disruptive to our routine—torn ligaments, cancerous tumors, degenerative diseases—these sorts of afflictions require more than a brief visit to the doctor’s office or an extra supply of chicken noodle soup.
There is an underlying physiological pathology to disease and injury, be it the actual broken bone, the virus that is attacking our respiratory tract, or the neurochemical imbalance that is contributing to a depressed mental state. But there is likewise a social and spiritual dimension of suffering—one that often goes unnoticed. Sickness, in its many forms, often prevents us from being full participants in one or more of the communities of which we are a part.
A violinist who suffers a strained tendon in her wrist not only experiences the physical pain emanating from the surrounding nerves, but the emotional and spiritual anguish of being unable to play with her orchestra. The pain is not simply a physical sensation, but a social separation from the community of which she is a part. Likewise, a football player who suffers a torn ACL and is forced to go to rehab while his teammates are out on the field, preparing for the weekend’s game, experiences not simply the somatic sensation of soreness in his knee, but a far larger feeling of disconnect from his team. Sickness—in its many forms—afflicts us on a social level, because it impedes our ability to fulfill our social role, whether that is at our job, on our team, in our family, or in any other community to which we belong.
The leprosy described by the authors in today’s passages is describing precisely this sort of disconnect from the community. Because Jewish law was directed towards worship at Temple, the focus centered upon purity and cleanliness—who met the requirements to offer these sacrifices. Myriad things, ranging from personal moral failures like adultery to everyday physical occurrences like menstruation, could render one unclean, and thus, unfit for worship. The lepers in today’s reading suffered from a particular sort of physical ailment that left them permanently unclean, and thus, incapable ever of being part of the Jewish community. They were forced to live on the outskirts of town, begging for food, since no one would hire them for labor. And since this impurity was considered to be contagious, few from the village would venture out to interact with them, as it would have left them impure as well. Thus, many of these lepers had not seen sisters, brothers, parents, or other loved ones in years.
When Jesus heals these persons, he is violating a social norm, in that he risks becoming unclean himself, in order to stage a dramatic performance of profound healing. It is not simply that Jesus “cures” them in the way that we think of a particular prescription curing an infection, but that he heals them. That is, by removing the physical ailment, he allows them to be rejoin their community. Newly “well,” these persons can return to town, hug their family, take up a job, get married, and do all of the things that “healthy” people can do. Jesus’ singular act of healing is, quite simply, the best thing that has ever happened to them.
In healing the modern day linebacker’s ACL or the violinist’s wrist, Jesus would be not merely eliminating bodily pain, but restoring those individuals to the fullness of their identity on the team or in the orchestra. They would be, once again, an integral part of the community. And so we arrive at thanksgiving. To be thankful is to acknowledge, before God and others, that our healing was not of our own doing. When we pray to God that our mother’s cancer might go away, or that we might pass an exam, we are prostrating ourselves before the God of the universe and saying, “I recognize that my ability to effect the outcome of this situation only goes so far… and that, ultimately, you, God, are in control of this.” In thanking God for the result, we are once again recognizing that it was only by the goodness and grace of God that the favorable outcome was possible.
In thanking the surgeon or physical therapist or spiritual counselor who helps restore us to health, we are acknowledging that we cannot heal ourselves all by ourselves. We give thanks because we recognize that the cancer, or the eating disorder, or the immune deficiency, was an entity much bigger than ourselves, and that we needed the help of others and the grace of God to overcome it. There is a profound humility in giving thanks. Today’s readings invite us to consider what sorts of “ailments” prevent us from being full members of a given community—drama with our friends, tension with our family, stress at work, disagreement with our Church, frustration with our country—and to ask Jesus for healing. Finally, we are encouraged to look around our lives at the many ways in which we already have been healed, and to offer thanks to God and to those people who were human instruments of that healing.
Reflection Questions
1) Have you ever been seriously sick or suffered a broken bone/torn ligament? What sorts of things did it prevent you from doing? Did you feel as though you were not fully part of some community (school, family, a team, etc.) while you were ill? How did it feel once you got better?
2) What sorts of things in your life might count as “sicknesses” or sources of separation from the community? Is there anything in your life that prevents you from being spiritually, physically, or emotionally flourishing?
3) Do you ever thank God for moments of healing, or other good things that happen to you? What sorts of things have you been thankful for?
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