Oak Chapel United Methodist Church

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We usually read this story on Thanksgiving - ten lepers healed, but only one bothers to say "thank-you." The message is simple: that truly faithful people (and we know them by this) - truly faithful people will always have an attitude of gratitude. They've been blessed, and they don't forget to say "thank-you." They don't resent what they don't have. They give their thanks for the same reasons birds sing: it is their instinctive response to the creative love of Yahweh, their God. Gratitude shouldn't have to be learned. Once we see who we are, and who God is, thankfulness and praise should come naturally. The central word in Jewish worship is "Hallelujah." Loosely translated it means, "Hurrah for Yahweh!" Gratitude and praise are not icing on the cake. They are at the very heart of our faith. Nicky Gumbel, one of the founders of the Alpha movement, often speaks to people with little or no church background. So he has learned to simplify things. When he teaches about prayer, for instance, he tells his audiences to remember three words: "Sorry," "Thank-you," "Please." That's it! That's all he takes to make a good prayer, he says. "Sorry" (confession), "Please" (petition) and, right in the center, before we get to shopping lists, "Thank-you." But nine lepers forgot.

Interesting, of course, that the one who remembered was a Gentile, a hated Samaritan, no less. Presumably the others were Jews, proud children of Abraham. (It's amazing how common suffering breaks down barriers between people. Jews and Samaritans could associate, at least as lepers.) Those who saw Jesus heal these ten lepers, and heard what he said when only one came back to thank him, would have understood immediately how damning this event was for the Jews: only a foreigner showed gratitude. God's people did not. How embarrassing! But, by the time Luke writes his Gospel - say forty years after Jesus died -- the story has taken on an even wider meaning, for (by then) the Christian Church (which was all Jewish at first) was becoming more and more Gentile. The Jewish establishment had refused to hear the message of Christ, had refused (according to the Christians, at least) to be thankful for God's immeasurable gift. They had, as George Buttrick put it, "despised the day of gladness." But non-Jews were coming to the church in droves. So those who read Luke's Gospel would see in this story a reflection of what was actually happening in the life of the church. The Jews had not come back to say thank-you, had not appreciated what God did for them in Jesus. (Proud people don't like to be beholden.) But the Gentiles knew their desperate need, and were deeply grateful for their salvation.

The Jews should have read their own scriptures. The Old Testament overflows with examples of ingratitude and its consequences. Esau despised his birthright, and therefore had it stolen from him. Time and again, the children of Abraham, once they were ensconced in the promised land, forgot to be thankful. They lived in houses they hadn't built, tended vineyards they hadn't planted, drank from wells they hadn't dug. In other words, they lived off the fat of the land, but they seldom appreciated what God had done for them. Instead of being thankful, and praising God for his gracious mercy, they said, "My hand (my hard work) has gotten me all this (thought of themselves as self-made instead of God-made). They then added insult to injury by welcoming images, idols, and other gods into their affections. And, in every case, the result of their ingratitude was disaster. So the Jews should have known to be thankful.

We often think that gratitude (and gratitude's sister, generosity) grow out of wealth and good fortune. Those who are thankful, we think, are those who have a lot to be thankful for; those who are generous are those who have a lot to give. But when we tie thankfulness (or the lack thereof) to material wealth, or to our circumstances in life, we are heading in one of two wrong directions: either toward boasting (if we have plenty), or toward resentment (if we don't). The surprise is this: thankfulness has little to do with our material wealth nor with our situation in life. Often the poorest people life lives full of thanksgiving and praise, and are the most generous. (That's why Jesus told the story of the widow's mite.) Often the richest in money are the poorest in gratitude, and live shriveled, bitter lives.

To be a leper was a lousy thing. Shunned, ostracized, forced to live in colonies with other poor souls suffering from the same disease. They were required to ring bells constantly when they entered the world of ordinary people, so that the good folk, the clean folk would be warned of their presence and step back. Nobody wanted to touch a leper. So, Jesus not only healed the ten but saved them from a life of misery and loneliness. In spite of that, only one said, "Thank-you." One preacher suggests that their ingratitude was worse than their leprosy. For ingratitude disfigures people even more grotesquely. He asks, "Were the nine better people, now that they were healed?" Probably not. One problem (their leprosy) was solved, but a deeper problem (their thanklessness) was uncovered and uncured.

The writers of the New Testament (including Luke) were poor, and every day faced persecution and death. That's not a movie. That's the truth. Yet their words drip with thanksgiving. How could that be? Paul's ship foundered in a terrible storm off Malta, and all aboard were certain they would die, but the Book of Acts tells says that Paul bowed his head and "gave thanks in the presence of them all." How could that be? Jesus, as upset as he must have been at that Last Supper with his disciples, did not forget to give thanks for the bread and wine. How could that be? I always think of Elder Brewster, of Plymouth Colony, in that first winter when so many of the Pilgrims died of illness and malnutrition, sitting down to a meal of a cup of cold water and a few clams and thanking God "for the abundance of the sea, and for the treasures hid in the sand." How could that be?

Martin Rinkart was a Protestant pastor in Germany during the Thirty Years War. He lived and worked most of his life in his own home town, the walled city of Eilenburg. At one point during that terrible war, thousands of refugees flocked into Eilenburg, filling the city far beyond its capacity. In a few days there was famine and then there was plague. Before long, Rinkart was the only pastor left. He presided over nearly five thousand funerals, sometimes fifty or sixty a day. One of those funerals was for his own wife. It was at that darkest moment in Rinkart's life that he sat down and wrote the hymn we remember him for:

Now Thank We All Our God, with heart and hands and voices,
Who wondrous things hath done, in whom this world rejoices;
Who from our mothers' arms hath blessed us on our way
With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.

How could that be? How could someone offer such profound thanks at such a time? It is because thanksgiving has little to do with our circumstances. It is a mood of the heart. As hard as it is to accept at the time, part of the cure for grief and disaster (part of the therapy) is thanksgiving. The old advice to "count your blessings" when you're down isn't bad. I don't think it diminishes the deaths of those who died on September 11 to stop and thank God for what we have. I don't think it degrades the heroism of that day. It simply restores the balance of life. Much to be sad about, and much to be thankful for even in our sadness. When I heard the news of that day, I thought first of my family. Were they all safe? Were they on the ground? Were they home? Yes. Thank God! Now, what about the church? Was everyone well? The facts trickled in: a few were inconvenienced, but no one was hurt - and there were no losses in our church families. Thank God! It is not selfish to think like that. (Well, it is, but selfishness is our nature.) How ungrateful we would be if we did not thank God for the fact that we, and those we love, survived. What if those nine lepers could speak for themselves, and would say, "Well we didn't give thanks because thousands of others still suffer from leprosy." We wouldn't buy that. It's true others suffer, the world isn't perfect, but you have received a special gift of God's grace. You have been healed and rescued from a miserable life. We're not asking for philosophy, but only for an appropriate expression of gratitude. Just say "thank-you."

Gratitude in the heart leads, as it must, to generosity in living. Being helped ourselves leads us to help others. A woman once said to Helen Keller that she (Keller) was an inspiration to her because whenever she thought of Helen Keller she was thankful for her own sight. Helen Keller replied, "There is no lovelier way to thank God for your sight than by giving a helping hand to someone in the dark." "Freely ye have received, freely give," the Bible says. And thus goodness grows. Gratitude leads to generosity which leads to more gratitude. The yeast expands the loaf. The tiny mustard seed becomes a great tree. Mountains are moved. And soon we find ourselves in the Kingdom of God.