"if you choose..."

Anna Blaedel, First UMC, Osage
Psalm 30
Mark 1:40-45
February 15, 2009

The story is simple. A leper comes begging. He is unnamed. Unclean. Untouchable. He is known, before and above all else, for being dirty. And diseased. In the context of this biblical text, leprosy destroyed lives not just because of the painful skin lesions and progressive damage to a person’s skin, nerves, limbs, and eyes. Leprosy caused fear in communities. People suffering from this disease were segregated, stigmatized. As in the early years of the now pandemic crisis of HIV/AIDS, when cause and cure where both unknown, anyone with leprosy was viewed as a danger to the community, a threat to the community’s health and wholeness.

That a leper appears in this story at all, and that a leper dares to approach Jesus, dares to show his face and kneel before the crowd…this is enough to shock those gathered, enough to shock the hearers of this story, and make them squirm.
The leper is begging. Desperate. Jesus, Jesus! “If you choose…” Do you dare? If you are willing. Might you be moved? I know you have this power…will you care enough to act? Jesus, God’s Incarnate Love, sees the need. Hears the call. And Jesus responds. Let us pray…

Pastor and writer Frederick Buechner reminds us of call. He writes—God calls us to the places where the world’s deep hunger and our deep gladness meet. Where the world’s deep hunger and our deep gladness meet. Deep need. Deep passion. “If you choose…” It is at this intersection where we meet God.

In this morning’s gospel text, the leper’s deep hunger meets and elicits Jesus’ deep gladness. The Greek word willing used in this story is the same as delight. If you choose…If you are willing…If it will make you glad, the leper asks, his hunger for healing, deep. If it will bring you delight.

The leper is calling Christ. And Jesus, moved with compassion, so delights. Without hesitation. Immediately. Jesus, this one of kingdom connection and beloved community, so desires. Jesus reaches out his hand, we are told. When the rest of the world recoils, Jesus reaches out. Touches the untouchable. And because connection is made, healing happens. Boundaries are broken. This man, set apart, isolated, feared, is restored to community. He comes alive. Experiences resurrection! Proclaims the good news of this one who embodies Love. Is filled with such joy that he cannot help but spread the word, share his story, and tell of the Good News of Jesus. Jesus, this one who restores, resurrects, reconnects.

This past week I gathered in DC with 45 other United Methodist clergy, all of us under the age of 35. We prayed and worshipped together. We shared our struggles. Our hopes. Our stories of call. We faced our differences and disagreements, and gathered at table, broke bread together, still. We started at 7:30 each morning, and often didn’t make it back to the hotel until past 10 at night. It was exhausting, and renewing.

We studied issues facing our communities: homelessness and poverty and addiction. Immigration. Dwindling membership in mainline denominations. Church politics. Gospel politics. The way fear and resignation keep people and pastors isolated and insulated from the gospel call to build beloved community.

On our last day together, four hours before my flight was scheduled to depart from National Airport and return me to Iowa, I preached on this morning’s gospel text at our United Methodist Building on Capitol Hill. Then, three hours before departure, I found myself sitting in a small room at the US Capitol Building. The Interfaith Immigration Coalition had gathered religious leaders together for a press conference. I found myself next to United Methodist Bishop Minerva Carcano. Bishop Carcano and I had met in Ames last June, where she was the guest preacher for Iowa’s Annual Conference. Some of you might have heard her preach. In DC, the room was filled—Catholics and United Methodists, Baptists and Unitarians, Jews and Evangelicals—all calling for humane immigration reform.

The scriptures show us, Jesus teaches us, that our salvation is directly tied to our welcoming the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, and the imprisoned.

Bishop Carcano read from Leviticus 19—“The strangers who sojourn with you shall be to you as the natives among you, and you shall love them as yourself; for you too were once strangers in a foreign land.” Deep hunger. Deep need.

David Vasquez spoke to the current context in Decorah, Iowa, a mere 60 miles from our homes here in Osage—He said, “Immigrant families and workers are living in a state of fear, as we have seen firsthand in our community…they are constantly worrying about the next raid that will rip parents and children apart or how the increasing anti-immigrant sentiment will impact their families…” Deep hunger. Deep need.

On Feb. 28, we will join with hundreds of faith communities across the nation, praying for immigrant families. Praying for just immigration reform. Praying for our nation’s leaders, as they discern how to combine security and hospitality. Praying for us, for our moral courage, for our gospel call as followers of Christ.

This is not a Republican or Democrat issue. It is not a political issue of the liberal left, or of the conservative right. This is a gospel issue. This is a faith issue. This is a Jesus issue.

God reaches across boundaries and borders to offer hospitality and healing. The leper came to Jesus, begging. He should not have been there. He was not supposed to be able to get to Jesus. But. And. Jesus welcomed him. Reached out to him. Moved by compassion, filled with gladness, Jesus restored him. And Jesus chooses, offers, to restore us. Calls us to the places where the world’s deep needs meet our deep gladness.

To follow this call, we need each other. And we need God. And God needs us. Every one of us. And every one of our sisters and brothers.

“If you so choose,” the leper asks. God so chooses. So desires. So delights. For us all, every one. Citizens and sojourners. Members and visitors. Rich and poor. Young and old. Women and men. Lay and clergy. Gay and straight. Those who hold power, and those pushed to the margins. White and Black, Latino and Asian. God’s love and welcome and healing knows no borders. Deep gladness, restored.

The call—to restore and resurrect. Until our mourning gives way to dancing. Until we are clothed not in sackcloths, but in joy. Until the hurt is so deep we share it. Until the fears are so sharp we name them, and lay them to rest. Until the shame shivers away, and we laugh our way, together, toward becoming whole. Until we are delivered from just going through the motions, and wasting everything we have: a chance, a choice, our creativity, God’s call.

Thanks be to God. Amen.