“I do choose...”

Scripture Lesson:  Mark 1: 40-45

Dr. Matthew S. Brown

February 12, 2006

 

Don’t you find it a little ironic that NBC, in a transparent attempt to appear urbane and worldly, has chosen to refer to the Olympic host city, not by the name we all know, Turin, but by the supposedly more “cosmopolitan” name of Torino?  Think about it, every time an American sees that name plastered on their high definition screens - Torino! - we’re not thinking, “My, how sophisticated!”  No, we’re thinking, “Redneck car from the seventies!”  I was looking for Starsky and Hutch to come roaring into the opening ceremony, engine throttling, tires squealing across the ice.  Maybe instead of medals they’ll give out big ol’ chrome wheel rims.  Torino!

 

Ah! but the beauteous sights brought to our living rooms of Turin/Torino and the alluring culture of Italy led me to ponder all things pasta.

 

Campanelle, casarecci, castellane, cavatelli, conchiglie (that’s what we call shells, you know the ones we mix with that exotic cheese - Velveeta!), conchiglioni (jumbo shells), cresti di galle, farfelle, fusilli, gigli (Wasn’t that the horrid Ben Affleck movie?), gnocchi, lumaconi (looks like something you would use in heart valve surgery), radiatori (looks like miniature accordians), gamelli, rotini.  And that’s just the shaped pasta.  We haven’t even mentioned bavetti, lasagna, fettucine, vermicelli, spaghettini, ciriole, capellini, canneloni, manicotti, penne, rigatoni, mostaccioli.

 

Now, in addition you must choose the type of flour for your pasta.  Will it be white, semolina, whole wheat, buckwheat, corn, brown rice, or mung bean threads.  O, and let us not forget the array of traditional ingredients you may choose to add to your pasta flour.  There’s spinach, broccoli, tomato, beats (I don’t think so), carrots, red bell pepper, chili peppers, chocolate, or squid ink (Are you kidding me!).

 

So what will it be?  “I’ll have the spaghettios.”

 

I have no claim to be an authority on pasta.  I just know how to use Google.  But the dizzying array of pasta options brings to relief the daily challenge of choice.

 

When I wake, will I run, will I walk, will I do a jumping jack? 

Will I praise the morning news reporter or will I see him as a hack?

When the driver cuts in front of me, will I remember when I did the same?

Or will my nostrils flare and my face turn red as I shout an ugly name?

When I’m greeted by the new employees whom the boss says I must train,

Will I welcome them and mentor them, or treat them with disdain?

 

O, the choices we must make.  Smile or frown?  Laugh out loud or swallow the giggle?  Engagement or Indifference?  Listen or ignore?  Respond, reply, retort or hold your tongue?  Insult or Praise?  Mercy or severity?  Lay on the guilt or offer the grace?  Kindness or cruelty?

 

What is it that leads us one moment to offer someone fawning, idol worshiping, “I’m not worthy” adulation and the next moment to dismiss someone with patronizing, scornful contempt?  O, the choices we do make.

 

O, yes, there are those who boast, “I treat everyone the same.”  Why is it that those who make that claim treat everyone so pathetically while those who have that claim made about them treat everyone with kindness?  O, the choices we do make. 

 

Will I regard you as friend or foe, inferior or superior, threat or opportunity, child of God or spawn of satan?  O, the choices we do make.

 

“A leper came to [Jesus] begging him, and kneeling he said to [Jesus], ‘If you choose, you can make me clean.’  Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, ‘I do choose.  Be made clean!’”

 

To be labeled as a leper in that time and culture was devastating.  In that age, the term leprosy was an umbrella that covered a wide variety of skin diseases ranging from the critical to the minor.  Let me put it this way, if you were bald, you sure didn’t want to get a sunburn.  A little bit of flaking and you could find yourself on a one way donkey out of town, labeled a leper, pushed out of the community. 

 

It was the mistaken assumption of the time that even clothes and houses contracted leprosy.  If there was a touch of mildew on the bedroom wall or signs of rot in the doorpost, you could be labeled a leper.  And before you think, “O how prehistoric a notion!,” let me remind you that just  one hundred years ago a mental hospital was constructed in western North Carolina with this elaborate air filtration system that involved a complex series of tunnels because it was believed that mental illness was an airborne disease.

In the days of Jesus, the heartbreak of psoriasis could be exactly that because of the dire consequences of being diagnosed as a leper.

 

You were not allowed in places of worship.  You were separated from your family.  You could not gossip with your friends in the public square, though you were probably the subject of everyone’s gossip.  You were required to distance yourself from everyone, and if you were to come within eyesight and earshot of anyone it was expected that you were to shout, “Unclean!  Unclean!”  The humiliation was all encompassing and the subsequent economic effects were crippling, not only for you but also for your family and anyone who depended on you or your work, because of course, you were not allowed in any place of employment. 

 

Don’t ever pride yourself with the thought that you could never be reduced to a beggar until you’ve endured the experience of having everything stripped away.  You could find yourself becoming rather bold, also.  “Jesus, if you choose you can make me clean.”

 

And then an amazing thing happens.  Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, ‘I do choose....’”  O, the choices that are made.  The implications of this deed of compassion are significant and expansive.

 

First, in the act of reaching out to touch the leper, Jesus, too, could be labeled as unclean.  It is yet another instance where Jesus will not allow the rules of religion to get in the way of the love of God.  If the son of God is so quick and uninhibited about reaching out to those we are so willing to label as unclean or not worthy, what does that say about us?  What does that say to us?

 

Second, when Jesus relieves the man of his leprosy, he who has just broken a rule of religion encourages the leper to abide the rules of religion by going to the priest and taking part in the ritual of cleansing.  For Jesus knows that the real healing needed here is the restoration of the man to his family, his community, his opportunity for work, worship.  As one person said, this is not just a “Jesus and me” story.  The healing that takes place here is the healing of a family and possibly a community.

 

Yes, we struggle with this story because we know Jesus did not cure everyone during his earthly ministry.  Yes, we have prayed or we know those who have prayed for the cure that has never come.  But, isn’t there a difference between a cure and a healing?  The truth is that the leper will suffer from other ailments.  Some of you know that the cure for one ailment can actually cause another, and many here know the trauma of getting hit with a second illness when you haven’t even recovered from the first.  Such is the nature of finitude. 

 

And yet, I have seen healing occur, sometimes most powerfully and poignantly, when the cure doesn’t come and death is actually not avoided, the grace of reconciliation and the hope of resurrection granting a sense of peace and wholeness never known before.  Anyone who has ever shared communion with a dying friend will affirm that healing comes in many forms.

 

In August of 1995, the Session of the church I was serving gathered in the home of a 38 year old husband and father of two young children who was nearing the last stage of his battle with esophogeal cancer.  We were there for a service of homebound communion.  Usually, the pastor and one elder will make this journey, but for this occasion the whole session agreed to participate.  Many of the elders had not seen Andy for quite some time and I’m sure many were uneasy about entering his home and seeing the insidious effects of the disease.  I’m sure there were conversations earlier that morning with spouses where statements were made such as, I’d rather take a beating than go over there today;” or “I have a real fear of seeing people in that way;”  And yet, they came, they prayed, they touched.  And God was in that place, overpowering our skittish fears with the sense of his presence.  There was a lot of healing going on that day - in a family facing death with grace, in an ill-equipped and inarticulate minister who learned the power of communion, in elders who discovered the deeper meaning of the phrase “His body was broken,

His blood was shed.”  No cancer cells were eradicated but the pall of death could not cover the light of eternal life.

 

We all had to make the choice to climb over that fence called fear to be where God is.  We all had to break out of the prison of our agendas, our precious protective worlds to be where God heals.

 

The leper wasn’t on the agenda of Jesus for that day.  In fact, Jesus knew that encounter would make it more difficult for him to do the things he had come to do, to go to the places he needed to go.  The celebrity factor would get in the way.  However, compassion trumped agenda.  The leper was no less a child of God than anyone else Jesus would meet.  Jesus said, “I do choose...”   What about us?

 

The problem with religion then and now is the mistaken notion that if we separate ourselves enough, if we segregate and protect ourselves from all that is messy in the world, if we hold to the illusion that we are “Zestfully” clean and everyone out there is somehow less than clean, then we will be where God is.  But look at the story.  Does it not imply we’ve been wrong?  What the leper shows us is that where there is suffering, where there is pain, where there is someone who’s been left out, cast out, shut out - God will be there no less than God will be here.  And Jesus invites those of us here to join him there.  

 

When we heard that the twin towers had fallen, we were irrevocably shaken and concluded that our world had fundamentally changed.  Why is it that when we heard that 180,000 people had been slaughtered in Darfur, we said, “That’s a tragedy,” and went on with our evening meal.

 

Jesus stepped aside, Jesus reached out, Jesus touched, Jesus said, “I do choose” because he knew the leper’s life was of no less value than any other.  Let us climb over the fence of fear, let us take the risk to touch that which the world calls messy, unclean and join Jesus in the healing place.  In the midst of all of life’s choices, let us choose that.  May the compassion of Christ lead us to say, “I do choose...” 

 

Amen.