If You Choose

Mark 1:40-45
2 Kings 5:1-14

Welcome to the ongoing story of Jesus in the book of Mark. Let me orient you for a moment: up to this point, Jesus has been baptized, tempted in the wilderness and has begun his ministry. He has gathered four disciples and is preaching, healing diseases, and casting out demons, in synagogues and in people’s homes. While he is garnering a reputation for being both a great teacher and healer, it’s not evident that anyone has really figured out who he is. While interest and crowds surround him, he has yet to cause major trouble . . . he’s still inconspicuous. He’s still safe.

In comes a man with leprosy. Though it’s easily treated today, leprosy is still a serious condition, especially in areas of deep poverty. It can cause permanent damage to the skin, nerves, eyes, and even necessitate the amputation of limbs. In Jesus’ time if one had it or touched someone who had it, this would make them ritually unclean or untouchable. Lepers were seen to exist between life and death: in a state of limbo, but they were also ritually separated from everyday existence. As an unclean person, you couldn’t hang out with other people, couldn’t enter many of the cities, and certainly could not set foot in a synagogue and these are all the things Jesus has been doing up to this point.

Let’s assume this man is a Jew who knows his religion’s stories. Jesus and his followers would certainly remember the story of Naaman that we heard earlier in 2nd Kings.
This story of healing also involves a leper, kings, and a prophet. It is also a story full of political implications. The King of Israel is suspicious. Rather than believing that this is a request for healing, he suspects a trick. Kings had near divine status, and for these two: the King of Syria and the King of Israel, their relationship was already one of conflict. So for the King of Israel to attempt to perform a healing miracle, it might seem that he would claim to be God, and thus more powerful than the King of Syria. The king of Israel says: “Am I God, to give death or life . . . Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.” The king of Israel takes this as a challenge and tears his clothes in anguish.

When the leper approaches Jesus, this story is already in the background. Jesus hasn’t yet been revealed as the true King of Israel or as God. But his ability to heal the leper, answers the old king’s question: “am I God, to give death or life?” Well, yes. The political implications are still in place: Jesus is a new authority, with divine claims, which will be a problem, both for the current religious leaders and the Roman authorities as well.

When the leper leaves him, Jesus issues a “stern warning” for the leper not to tell anyone—he wants no credit for this miracle. One of the things I enjoy about preparing a sermon, is digging into a text to find details that seem enlightening or even unusual. An alternative Greek reading for “stern warning” suggest that Jesus was also “disturbed” or “snorting.” Imagine Jesus so much more emotional than the calm warning—not just serious, but also upset, and perhaps so angry that some incoherent snort escaped his body. Jesus’ reaction indicates just how much trouble this news could cause him. We see at the end of the passage that he can no longer enter into the town, because of the widespread news, and people have to come out to the countryside to find him.

Another interesting possibility is that Jesus was angry at the very request. The NRSV says Jesus was moved by “pity” but the footnote says that “other ancient authorities say: anger” which may be more likely. Then the text would read, “moved by anger, Jesus stretched out his hand.” Anger leaves us with more questions: why was Jesus angry? Was he mad at the man? Mad at the disease itself? Or something else? What does it then mean for us, to ask Jesus healing, cleansing forgiveness, if it’s possible that Jesus may react to us out of anger. Same questions then: is Jesus mad at us? Mad at our sin? Or something else?

For this instance with the leper, it’s possible that Jesus is experiencing anger for all three reasons. He’s on a clear mission, to enter into towns and synagogues to spread his message. This man interrupts him, and in his healing does two things to Jesus: also makes Jesus ritually unclean and then results in widespread proclamation of Jesus’ miracles. So, Jesus, being human, could be ticked at the reason that his plans have changed. But being God, this seems a little too petulant.

In reason 2, Jesus certainly could be upset at the leprosy itself. Perhaps he sees this man-- his condition and his life of suffering and is angry that such a thing exists in God’s world. God certainly desires better for the world and is never pleased to see suffering in any form: whether it’s leprosy in India or AIDS in Africa.

Or maybe it’s reason 3: something else. The leper doesn’t really ask to be healed, he says to Jesus “If you choose, you can make me clean.” The leper assumes, correctly, that Jesus has the power to cleanse him. Is that a challenge? A humble submission? As in: if it be your will, you can heal me. . . . is it possible for Jesus to choose not to? Could he really refuse—and allowing the suffering to continue? And could the suggestion that he might not choose to heal this man actually cause him to be angry?

This could possibly be a reflection of the man’s faith. Or a character test for Jesus—I believe you have the power, I’m just not sure you have the decency. We hear similar sentiments around us, if God were really good, these things wouldn’t happen . . . our loved ones wouldn’t be sick, strangers wouldn’t go hungry, children wouldn’t die, planes wouldn’t fall out of the sky . . .

Jesus doesn’t choose to be loving and compassionate, because he embodies those things, he couldn’t choose NOT to be. We don’t ask Jesus to forgive us, as he chooses, but absolutely.

Jesus chooses to save us, to heal us, to forgive us,
Salvation is a type of healing: whether it’s from a disease or our human condition—whether or not it’s in the way that we expect.

Naaman expects Elisha to come to see him, to wave his arms around, and perform a great magic trick. He’s angry when Elisha tells him to go take a bath. Like the ruby slippers in the Wizard of Oz: It’s too simple, too obvious. Jesus heals the leper, but in anger, snorting out a warning not to tell anybody—but will later tell his disciples to tell the whole world about him.

Maybe some of us expect God will always heal us, always give us what we want because we believe, because we’re good, because we’re special. God doesn’t heal us of every physical ailment. We all get sick, we all suffer, we all eventually die. Jesus doesn’t change any of that.

The miracles that Jesus performs in the gospel, are largely temporary. The people that he heals, eventually get sick again, they eventually die. The fed get hungry again. The lasting effect is not the healing, but the motivation behind it.

Jesus will not choose not to save us in the way he wants to—from our own desires and expectations—from our own comfort—from our own sin—from our own selves.

Jesus will not choose not to reach out to us—
But will we choose to reach out to him?

God offers grace—in communion—Jesus invites everyone to the table, to see and taste his goodness—but we can choose not to come.