One of the tragic consequences of leprosy is social. The leper was separated from family and community and destined to live out one’s days in caves off the beaten track — and no frail care centre either. The first reading spells it out. Once the person is declared unclean they must live outside the camp, that is, in a leper colony. How heartbreaking for a mother or a father to leave young kids behind and never have a family meal again. I was reminded of this a few years ago at the height of the Ebola crisis in West Africa when I saw a picture of a young mother being led away by two men in white overalls. The poor woman was terrified, and the children looked on aghast, forlorn and in tears.
This is the background to today’s story. Here is a man who is unclean, unwanted and not meant to be seen anymore. But he is no ordinary leper resigned to his fate. He is determined to see Jesus no matter what rules are broken. He doesn’t shout unclean, nor observe the law relegating him to the margins of society. Instead he kneels down in front of Jesus confident of being cured. He is also confident that Jesus in his turn would risk breaking the law by touching and ridding him of his leprosy. Speaking with the audacity of someone who had no other options he says: “If you wish, you can make me clean.” The man had no doubt about Jesus’ ability to do this. All he wanted to know was, did he want to heal him and I’m sure he had no doubts about that either. He already knew that Jesus was sensitive to the suffering, to those marginalised by society and passed over by the powers that be. Stories about his eating with prostitutes, tax collectors, and sinners had probably reached his ears as well, giving him more confidence.
Jesus did not disappoint. He immediately responds by feeling sorry for him, stretching out his hand to touch him saying, “Of course I want to! Be cured.” This instant compassion for those suffering and oppressed is at the very heart of Jesus’ ministry. If one were to ask what kept Jesus going everyday one would have to answer that it was his compassion and the compassion of his Father who likewise suffers with all who are suffering. Jesus knows that God doesn’t discriminate against anyone. God doesn’t reject or excommunicate. God isn’t just for the good. God welcomes and blesses everyone. That’s how God is and that’s the story of Jesus too.
Jesus sternly warned the man not to tell anyone but go and show himself to the priest so that he can rejoin his family once more. Well, he may have shown himself to the priest, but he certainly didn’t keep quiet about it. But just imagine his joy about rejoining his family once more. Jesus may not have been impressed about his ability to keep quiet but I’m sure he too was happy to see this man so transformed and full of joy. But there is a certain irony here. The man who before wasn’t free to go anywhere is now free to walk the roads again. Jesus, who was free before can now no longer go openly into any town but had to stay outside in places where nobody lived.
Leprosy is not a big issue today and certainly there is no need to isolate them from their loved ones. But there is one much more serious scourge that has taken young people away from their families and planted them in dark places miles from their homeland, namely, human trafficking. Two days ago, was the feast of St. Bakhita. Pope Benedict was so impressed with her story that he included it in his second encyclical, Spe Salvi. What follows is largely from his encyclical.
Josephine Bakhita was born around 1869 in Darfur in Sudan. At the age of nine, she was kidnapped by slave-traders, beaten till she bled, and sold five times in the slave-markets of Sudan. Eventually, she found herself working as a slave for the mother and the wife of a general, and there she was flogged every day till she bled; as a result of this she bore 144 scars throughout her life. Finally, in 1882, she was bought by an Italian merchant for the Italian consul Callisto Legnani, who returned to Italy as the Mahdists advanced. Here, after the terrifying “masters” who had owned her up to that point, Bakhita was introduced to Christianity and came to know a totally different kind of “master”, namely Jesus Christ. In Venetian dialect, “paron” was the word for master and Jesus became her true paron. Up to that time, she had known only masters who despised and maltreated her or at best considered her a useful slave. Now, however, she heard that there is a “paron” above all masters, the Lord of all lords, and that this Lord is good, goodness in person. She came to know that this Lord even knew her, that he had created her—that he actually loved her. She too was loved, and by none other than the supreme “Paron”, before whom all other masters are themselves no more than lowly servants. She was known and loved and she was awaited. What is more, this master had himself accepted the destiny of being flogged and now he was waiting for her “at the Father’s right hand”. Now she had “hope” — no longer simply the modest hope of finding masters who would be less cruel, but the great hope: “I am definitively loved and whatever happens to me—I am awaited by this Love. And so my life is good.”
On 9 January 1890, she was baptized and on 8 December 1896, in Verona, she took her vows in the Congregation of the Canossian Sisters and from that time onwards, besides her work in the sacristy and in the porter’s lodge at the convent, she made several journeys round Italy in order to promote the missions: the liberation that she had received through her encounter with the God of Jesus Christ, she felt she had to extend, it had to be handed on to others, to the greatest possible number of people. The hope born in her which had “redeemed” her she could not keep to herself; this hope had to reach many, to reach everybody.
A common thread in both the story of the leper and St. Bakhita is their willingness to expose their weakness to Jesus and allow themselves to be transformed. We, in today’s world, are quite adept at hiding our weakness and thinking we can go it alone. But coming before God with a willingness to be nothing other than ourselves and to expose our need will take us into a very different space. There, whether we ask for healing or forgiveness or inspiration, we can trust what Jesus said: “I will do it!”
Sunday, 11 February 2018
Fr Michael Murphy 