Home.
Just the very utterance of the word can instantly excite the memory of a smell or a sight. Images of a house and the occurrences that took place within and outside of the house float past, and you feel as if you are "home" once again.
Well, most of us have this sort of nostalgic reaction to the word, “home.” But, some of us, myself included, have moved so many times throughout our lives that the word “home” brings no memories of houses and properties.
I have never lived anywhere long enough to ever consider it “home.” My Dad was the helping hand on multiple pig farms throughout the years, and we simply never stayed put for any amount of time.
I guess that you could call me homeless. I was not ever houseless, but, I have never had a “home.”
The interesting thing about being “homeless” in this way is that your sense of home has nothing to do with location, and everything to do with people. When I hear the word “home,” I think of my Mom, my Dad, my Brothers, and even my extended family…cousins and such. Home, is where the people are.
Now, I can only imagine that those 10 lepers became “home” to one another over the years.
In a similar way to how child predators in today’s age must live a certain distance from schools, parks, and churches, giving them in some communities only a very small area in which they are permitted to live (in one community, the only place that fits that bill is living in a tent underneath the bridge), these lepers were also required to keep a certain distance away from healthy people so that their contagious skin disease might not spread.
Luke imagines that these ten have been relegated to a village in the borderlands of Samaria and Galilee.
All ten have been banished from their actual homes…their houses and families, and now they have a home that consists of each other. This little “homeless” family, in the traditional sense of the word, consists of 9 Jews and 1 Samaritan.
It is an odd sort of family with that Samaritan thrown in the mix, but when common struggle and common illness is in play, racial hatred tends to diminish. And, for years they have lived together, eaten together, begged together, and weathered all of the storms together. They are each other’s “home.”
Then the day comes when salvation walks their way. Jesus Christ comes their way, and keeping their appropriate distance, they ask him to show them mercy.
“Go, show yourselves to the priests,” Jesus responds.
As each of one turns to head toward their own respective priest, they see that their skin diseases have all been healed. The priests will surely declare them to be healed and welcome them back “home” to their houses, to their families, and to their lives.
Nine will gain their childhood “homes” once again, but one has just lost his. One just stares as the members of his home walk away.
The Samaritan, who cannot safely follow into the lands of hatred and racism has now become truly “homeless” in all senses of the word.
Ever been there? Ever felt as if you were the one left out? Ever felt truly alone?
Just yesterday, I heard the true tale of a small child, around age 4, who had just had his first experience of a neighborhood friend abandoning him.
Jack comes running home and tells his mom, “My friend told me to go home because I was laughing at him! He didn’t understand when I told him it was joyful laughter.”
The mother responds, “OK, tell me what happened.”
“I started laughing, and my friend said ‘What are you laughing at?’ I said, ‘Your face.’
“Yes,” the mother said, “I can understand how that might have been misinterpreted.”
It is a funny little story that skirts around the edges of something much deeper, the experience of being abandoned by others; being relegated to the sidelines of life, not feeling valued, not feeling understood, not feeling like you have a “home.”
It does not matter what has caused you to be relegated to the sidelines of life, whether it be an illness, the color of your skin, a disagreement, a situation of bullying, a sin that you have committed, or any host of deserved or undeserved separation from others; Jesus has a place for you.
The other 9 lepers go “home” because they can, but the one who is left out finds a home in the one who saved him. The tenth leper comes to Jesus, and Jesus welcomes the man to his true home, his savior.
Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling—
Calling for you and for me;
Patiently Jesus is waiting and watching—
Watching for you and for me!
Come home! come home!
Ye who are weary, come home!
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!
Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”
The man was already healed of the skin disease. What does Jesus mean by, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.”?
It is quite simple really. As we have been saying all along; the 10th Leper’s faith has given him a home. Now that he has a home, he has finally been made well.
And, Jesus continues to make the world well by welcoming all of us home to his table. None of the distinctions of life that separate us from others, the clothes we wear, the color of our skin, the level of sin in our lives, are enough to turn us away from Jesus’ table. At Jesus' table we are at home, because our true home is Jesus Christ.
And, the nice thing about this home, Jesus Christ, is that He follows you wherever you go. This home will not forget those who reside within, Jesus does not forget.
No matter where you are in life or where you are in the world, you are at home in the eternal love of God through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Welcome home. Welcome home. Rejoice and be glad, for you are home.
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