This is my very first seminary sermon! It was written for preaching class “From Text to Sermon” at Wartburg Seminary.
Sermon on Mark 1:40-45
40 A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” 41 Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, “I do choose. Be made clean!” 42 Immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean. 43 After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, 44 saying to him, “See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.” 45 But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter.
Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Jesus heals a man with leprosy. This is a fantastically Lutheran text. It’s centered on Christ, it deals with the inclusion of the outcast into society, and it’s filled with grace. A man with leprosy comes to Jesus asking to be made clean. It’s such a clear, plain example of faith. The man even seems to have a solid Christological footing, knowing that Jesus has the power to give him life, the power that belongs to God, the only source of life.
And Jesus lives up to the man’s expectation. When he encounters the man, he’s moved with pity and without question, he meets the man where he is, saying, “I do choose. Be made clean!” In the Greek, Jesus’ command to the man to be healed is a passive imperative, so it’s nothing the man does; it’s completely Jesus’ choice to heal him. Only by God’s grace is the man made clean. After cleansing the man, Jesus tells him to go show himself to the priests – not to heal himself by going to them, but to go out of gratitude as a testimony to God’s power. The text isn’t clear that he actually goes to the priest, but he’s still made clean, so regardless, it’s clearly not his work. Good Lutheran message.
Now, I’m not exactly sure what to do with Jesus’ command to the man to not tell anyone about what’s happened, but I’m ok right now with just chalking it up to the Messianic Secret. Maybe it’s that Jesus anticipates what will happen when word of his healing power gets around, that it will handicap his mission. Maybe Jesus just likes being able to occasionally go into town without being mobbed. Maybe, like in the Living Bible translation, the command to not speak is only for while the man’s on his way to see the priest.
So this is a nice, clean, simple healing story. Right? But in my reading, there’s one huge, gaping hole in this story. Do you see it? It’s in the second verse, the very first thing Jesus says. The man says, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” It could also be translated, “If you want to,” or “If you wish, you have the power to make me clean.” And how does Jesus respond? Do you remember? He doesn’t immediately say, “Be made clean.” That would be too easy. No, the first thing Jesus says is “I do choose.” …”I do choose.” The word in Greek is Θέλω. I do choose, I do wish, I do want. It’s like the man’s healing depends on Jesus’ whim.
Perhaps it’s not that big of a problem. I mean, I do believe in a God who chooses people. I like stories where Jesus chooses someone whom society has rejected, someone outside the boundaries of community. And I do think there is a message in that here. Jesus isn’t afraid of interacting with those on the margins, those who are outcasts, the lepers. Point noted. But why does Jesus need to say, “I do choose.” Is there really a choice here?
Maybe it’s an answer to a rhetorical question. Does Jesus ever reject someone in the Gospels who asks him for healing? Well, maybe the Samaritan woman in Matthew 15 whom he calls a dog… but eventually he does choose to heal her daughter. So maybe that works, this Jesus who heals everyone who asks him. I like that.
But I don’t think that reflects our reality. My godmother, Heidi, was and is one of the most faithful, Christ-loving people I know. When her younger son, Jacob, was just four years old, he was diagnosed with cancer. My godmother, her husband, my family and I, their church, our church, and many many people prayed fervently for him, asking, begging Jesus to heal him. And at the age of seven, three years after being diagnosed, Jacob died. I don’t know what to do with that. Maybe I can talk about how God healed in a different way, making Jacob clean by taking him home to be with Jesus in heaven, and just didn’t heal him in the physical way we wanted. But that gets awfully close to saying God caused Jacob to die, and I don’t believe that. That’s not the God the Bible testifies to. God gives life, not suffering and death.
So I don’t understand. But maybe we don’t have to understand why God does what God does. Maybe God’s idea of fairness is not the same as our sense of fairness. Maybe we’re not the ones in control.
Maybe our call is to have the same trust, the same faith that the leper has, to come to Jesus knowing that he might not heal us. The leper knew who Jesus was. We know who Jesus is. We know that Jesus cared when he encountered the leper. We know that no matter what, the foundational message of the Christian faith is that God loves us enough to come and die for our sake. That’s what we hold on to. We don’t have to understand all the answers. What if Jesus had said no?
I don’t know how to respond when someone prays, and is not healed, other than to talk about God as somehow present amidst the suffering. I’m not saying God causes suffering, that God caused Jacob to die, or caused the man to suffer from the disease and stigma of leprosy, but we do proclaim that no matter what, God is still present. God is still God. That’s a hard message to speak, and sometimes it’s a hard message to hear. I don’t understand all of what that means. Maybe after CPE this summer, or pastoral care class, or seminary. Or maybe none of us will fully understand in this life, here in the in-between. We want answers. But sometimes, maybe there aren’t answers for us to have. Maybe sometimes, we have to live with some questions, live in the paradox, in the mystery. In faith. That’s a pretty Lutheran place to be as well.
Amen. And may the peace of God which passes all of our understanding keep our hearts and our minds in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.