Reception Perception
A sermon preached by Rev. Ginger E. Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC October 13, 2019, the 18th Sunday after Pentecost. “Fearless Generosity: Deepening Faith” series.
Text: Luke 17:11-19
I have been what I call “under water” for several weeks. What began about a year ago as a carefully curated calendar that included exciting things here at Foundry as well as a couple of outside gigs I was really looking forward to got blown up by the necessity of meetings and responsibilities related to the issues facing the United Methodist Church. It may go without saying, but being under water is not a comfortable place to be—unless you’re equipped with scuba gear! I didn’t have the oxygen mask. Being under water doesn’t inspire or allow me to be “my best self.” And this last little while is just a more intense version of what life tends to be like these days on the regular—not just for me but for many of us. We have schedules that are full of important things, meaningful things, necessary things—with other things we really want to do crammed in where we can manage them. And in the midst of it all, we can struggle to give the people around us—family, friends, even co-workers—the time or attention that they deserve or need. If we’re not careful, we can end up taking people for granted; and as is often the case, those closest to us can be taken for granted most easily because we figure they’ll always be there and they know what we’re going through after all...
I once asked the folks in a church gathering what words or phrases they most longed to hear. Of course “I love you” was up at the top. Coming in a close second was “thank you.” “Thank you.” Such small words that hold such power… While doing some reading for today, I was struck by one commentator’s reflections on the ways that saying “thank you” can make a profound difference. Here is what he shares:
“In the film The Remains of the Day, Anthony Hopkins plays a butler to a super-rich family. While researching this role, Mr. Hopkins interviewed a real-life butler. This butler told Hopkins that his goal in life is complete and total obsequiousness—a skilled ability to blend into the woodwork of any room like a mere fixture, on a par with table lamps and andirons. In fact, Anthony Hopkins said one sentence he will never forget is when this man said that you can sum up an excellent butler this way: “The room seems emptier when he's in it.” The room seems emptier when he’s in it. The goal is to do your work, fill your wine glasses, clear the plates and silverware without being noticed, much less thanked. But that's just the problem with routine ingratitude: it makes people disappear. You are the center of your own universe and others don’t warrant entree into that inner sanctum of yourself. But a simple word of thanks makes people visible again, it humanizes them.”[i]
To say “thank you” is to acknowledge gratitude for what someone does or who someone is. But at an even more basic level, to say “thank you” is to see someone, to perceive their presence, it is to acknowledge them as a fellow human being, as a human being who is part of your life. When we get too wrapped up in our own stuff and take others for granted, the ones we take for granted can begin to feel invisible. And, I contend, even those who aren’t keen on being in the spotlight still need to feel seen, acknowledged, appreciated by those closest to them. Children who are starved for attention will act out in order to get what they need. And, quite frankly, so will adults. When we say “thank you” to another person, the other person becomes visible, they become more real, more human—and I would argue that when we offer thanks we, ourselves become a little more truly human as well. An example: when I get so busy and wrapped up in my work or my own projects that I fail to say thank you to Anthony for the ways that he supports and cares for me and for our shared life, then it is easy for me to forget all the ways that he supports and cares for me and our shared life. I can begin to feel “on my own” and put out and weary… I can grow self-righteous and resentful—ways of being that do not expand my humanity, but rather wear me down to a nub. Gratitude is life-giving for all involved; saying “thank you” is no small thing.
There is a lot more than an example of saying “thank you” going on in our Gospel passage today—issues of purity codes, insiders and outsiders, divine healing, and more are all wrapped up in this little story. Lepers were “unclean” according to the law and therefore were forced to live outside the boundaries of human community. They suffered what theologian Simone Weil calls “affliction”—a complete suffering that includes the physical, social, political, emotional and spiritual dimensions of their lives. There was little comfort for lepers, little hope that anything would ever change for the better. When they cry out to Jesus for mercy—even while keeping their distance as they had been taught to do—Jesus responds by telling them to go and show themselves to the priests. It amazes me that they did as they were told—considering that as they set off to present themselves for the purity inspection they were still leprous. What an act of faith—or desperation—to head off in the direction of hope before they saw any change in their condition! But, as they went on their way, they were made clean—that is, they were healed of their leprosy. Then, in a surprising turn of events, the one among the group who was especially afflicted—the Samaritan (despised by and ostracized from the orthodox Jewish establishment) doesn’t just keep going on his healed, merry way to present himself to the Samaritan priest. Something in him wells up and needs to be expressed. Perhaps this Samaritan’s different choice from the others is precisely because he was likely looked down upon even within the little community of outcasts. Someone who has known such deep rejection will be much less likely to take it for granted when healing and justice comes. For whatever reason, what the Samaritan does first is change his schedule—he changes course and turns back; he praises God, then he bows before Jesus and thanks him. Jesus notices that it is the foreigner, the outsider, who is bowed before him in gratitude and then he says a curious thing, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.” Wasn’t the Samaritan already healed? Evidently to be made well as Jesus means it is more than to be cured of a physical ailment. The Greek word translated “made well”, from the root sozo, can be translated to be made whole, to be restored, to be cured, to be saved. I mentioned before that the lepers suffered total affliction—cut-off from hope in every possible aspect of their lives. To be healed of the physical ailment of leprosy would allow them entry back into human community and many aspects of their lives would be restored. However, there is something else that is going on between the Samaritan and Jesus in this story: “Your faith has made you well” seems to point to a deeper restoration, a broader connection, a more holistic healing.
The Samaritan acts upon an impulse—an impulse of praise and gratitude to God. In essence, in this story, the Samaritan is the only one who we can be sure didn’t take God’s love and mercy for granted. By his praise and thanksgiving, the Samaritan shows that he knows his physical healing was an unexpected gift of grace from God. His vision and concern is larger than just his own immediate, personal relief. He doesn’t just get what he wanted and then move on as though it had been his persistence or his own strength that had brought about the radical change in his circumstances. [I noted at the beginning that I was under water without what I needed…but the truth is that if I hadn’t had what I needed, I wouldn’t be standing here right now… “morning by morning, new mercies I see…!] This one’s expression of gratitude puts his life and his relationship with God in proper perspective. The Samaritan is the beloved child, dependent, humbled, held and ultimately healed by the loving Lord of all life. He perceives the One in whom he has found life. His perception and turning to God in gratitude brings about healing and wellness beyond the merely physical—he becomes more whole in his body, mind, and spirit—he becomes more human—that is, he becomes more closely who God has created him to be. The Samaritan—the outsider and the afflicted—by his perceiving, his turning, his praising, his thanksgiving, becomes for us a sign of the coming Kin-dom of God—a sign of what is possible: restoration and wholeness, lives transformed by encounter with the Holy One.
Perhaps today—in addition to committing to perceive and say “thank you” to the people in our lives—we might also consider the ways that we acknowledge God as the source of our lives, as the sustainer of our lives, as the source of grace and strength, as the One who holds us and helps us to stand in times of trial and challenge. Perhaps we might also consider the role Foundry plays in helping us stay connected to God, providing ways for us to participate in God’s work in the world, and to practice love and forgiveness and grace and justice in community. When and how do you say “thank you?” In the midst of good, full, busy lives, it’s important to be intentional about these things. One of the ways we can return our thanks is through our generosity. Last week we reflected on how the spiritual practice of giving is a primary way for us to practice the leap of faith. This week, I want to suggest that giving is a powerful way to express gratitude. What if you made a commitment that, every time you write a check or see the recurring gift to Foundry show up on your statement or put money into the offering plate, you consciously say “thank you”—thank you God, thank you Foundry. This practice can help us not take God’s love and grace for granted. It can help us not take Foundry for granted. It can help us perceive all that we receive. Our invitation is to travel the way of gratitude…for it is on this way that we become more human, more connected to God and to those we are given to love in this life.
At the end of the story, Jesus tells him to “go on his way”—and I like to think that this extraordinary event in the Samaritan’s life might mean that his “way” will now forever be the way of gratitude. The temptation, of course, is that somewhere along the way, the healed Samaritan gets overly comfortable with God and his life once again becomes filled with a restored social calendar and various other human concerns; the schedule gets changed less and less to include an intentional turning to God in praise and gratitude; and God begins to fade out of the picture. Do you suppose this could happen?
[i] Scott Hoezee, This Week at the Center for Excellence in Preaching, http://cep.calvinseminary.edu/thisWeek/index.php
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