On the way to Jerusalem,
He was passing along between Samaria and Galilee.
And as he entered a village,
He was met by ten lepers who stood at a distance and lifted up their voices and said,
Jesus,
Master,
Have mercy on us.
Luke 17,
11-13.
One who came to bring life.
Although Matthew and Mark also write of Jesus' cleansing of lepers,
Only Luke tells the story of the ten who were healed.
In a short story based on Luke's account,
Manuel Komaroff sets the scene in a forbidding wilderness,
But retains the central point,
The ingratitude of all except one.
The long journey led him through that wild,
Rocky wilderness.
The black and sorrowful valley between the lands of Galilee and Samaria.
Here in the shadow of a great,
Jagged rock,
Jesus rested.
The air was still,
Not an insect,
Not a bird,
And no rivulet broke the silence.
Stillness seemed deep as death.
And here,
In this quiet,
And in the purple shadow of a great rock,
He looked out into the desolate and hopeless valley.
Suddenly he heard the sharp snap of dried branches and the crunch of sandals on the hard stone.
A voice,
Which seemed to come from above him,
Cried out,
Unclean.
It was a cry filled with terror.
He looked up and there,
Almost directly over him,
On top of the great rock,
Stood an old man in rags.
His twisted figure,
Supported by a staff,
Was silhouetted against the clear sky.
Unclean,
He repeated,
Tarry not here.
We are outcasts and this valley of rock belongs to us.
Praise the Lord in heaven,
Jesus said.
He watches over all men.
The Lord in heaven,
Cried the old man,
Again raising his deathly white arms,
Has brought this upon us.
The one you would have us praise is not here.
Where man is,
There is the Lord also.
Go,
The old man cried.
What we have here,
We will share with no one.
The thorns,
The cinders,
The burning heat,
The rocks,
All that you see belongs to us.
And our sorrows and wretchedness are also our own.
Go,
Stranger,
We will divide with no one.
I ask nothing,
But I am ready to give.
How many are you?
Four are men,
Two are women,
Two are boys,
And two are girls.
Altogether we are ten.
Soon voices were heard and the unclean outcasts emerged slowly from secret grottos dug out of rock.
Their curious large eyes gazed hard at Jesus.
They were certain that the sheer horror of their faces would drive him off.
But he did not move.
You fear not,
The old man asked.
I fear not.
I choose those who suffer.
They are my people.
The old man gazed hard at Jesus.
Then he sank to his knees and bowed his head.
Forgive me,
He said.
I did not understand.
But one thing I know,
You come to us as a friend and not as an enemy.
This wilderness is our home.
But were it a green valley and rich,
We would still welcome you.
For no one has yet come out of the world to speak with us.
Only one thing,
Do not ask us to praise the Lord.
Would you have us thank him for our wretchedness?
Then one of the women spoke of boldly.
He has forsaken us.
He has turned a deaf ear to our prayers.
And the second woman with skin as white as that pillar of salt that was once Lot's wife spoke.
The Lord is an evil lord.
Then one of the four men spoke and said,
We do not need to pray.
The beasts of the forests do not pray.
The fish in the ocean do not pray.
We are creatures lower than the beasts.
So why should we pray?
There are those,
Said another,
Who live in palaces and others in huts.
Even the oxen are given a shed for the night.
But what have we?
I bring you life,
Said Jesus,
And nothing more.
He held out his arms and two of the children ran toward him.
He embraced them and stroked their heads.
Suddenly the children burst into tears.
Tell me why you are weeping,
He asked.
I do not know,
Said one.
But the other looked into his face and said,
A strange feeling,
Almost frightening,
Came over me.
It was as though a million needle points were rushing through my veins and every toe and finger had inside it a little heart which was beating hard.
And in my head,
Before my eyes,
The heavens seemed to open and your words were true.
He who sits on the throne in heaven watches over everyone.
Even we who are poor and sick and have nothing.
He loves even us.
And I will pray to him.
The child sank to her knees and clasps her hands in prayer.
And as she prayed,
The blood seemed to return to her hands and face.
And those who stood about looked on with wonder and astonishment.
He loves you all,
Jesus said,
And you who are poor and sick and have nothing.
You are no longer poor and no longer sick.
And the world that belongs to all people now also belongs to you.
Go show yourselves unto the priests and let them see that you have been cleansed.
All who are standing now sank to their knees and held their white arms up toward heaven.
And slowly,
Very slowly,
The red of life returned to their limbs and inch by inch crept upward,
Glowing,
Warm,
Throbbing until it had reached their fingertips.
The outcasts lost no time.
One by one,
They rose and walked away silently between the great rocks of the wilderness.
But the old man,
The one who had stood over Jesus on the great rock and waved his staff in the air,
Fell down at his feet.
Forgive me,
He pleaded.
I have done more than the others.
It was I who forbade you to tarry.
It was I who threatened you.
And it was I who gathered the other nine to frighten you away.
Envy and hate were in my heart.
Forgive me.
You are forgiven.
But will you forget that one passed here by chance?
Master,
I am ashamed.
We will forget this great thing that you have done for us.
It is not that our hearts are evil,
But there is a blindness in the nature of man and gratitude melts with time.
We are not worthy.
Send a curse after us and let us return to our wretchedness.
I have come to bring you life.
Go,
Hurry,
Join the others and live once more.
Forget or remember,
It matters little.
Only one thing matters.
Believe and have faith.
