“Lord, have mercy!”
Luke 17:11 Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance 13 and called out in a loud voice, "Jesus, Master, have pity on us!" 14 When he saw them, he said, "Go, show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were cleansed. 15 One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. 16 He threw himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him-- and he was a Samaritan. 17 Jesus asked, "Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? 18 Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" 19 Then he said to him, "Rise and go; your faith has made you well."
There has been a news story that has captured America’s attention this week. No, I’m not talking about Courtney Cox’s breakup or Brett Favre’s texting habits. On August 5, 33 miners were buried nearly half a mile underground. But on Wednesday, the miners who had been trapped for more than 2 months deep beneath the Chilean earth were rescued.
It is estimated that the costs of the rescue operation alone had soared beyond $22 million. That’s about $670,000 per miner. Couldn’t that money and effort have been better spent somewhere else? Why did the poor, third world country of Chile spend so much of that money to save some miners? One word – “mercy.”
These miners were separated from their families and human contact by 700,000 tons of rock. They were isolated. But they were also able to see and talk to their loved ones via a video feed. They were even able to shave! The lepers in Jesus’ day were separated from their families and all human contact because of their disgusting disease. They were isolated. They may have been able to see their loved ones, but only from a distance.
Common in Jesus’ day, leprosy was a terrible affliction. It was painful – your fingers and skin would begin to decay, even though you were still alive. They couldn’t shave, for fear that their skin would peal off. It was emotional – who wants to be known as “dead man walking?” It was lonely – lepers could only live with other lepers far away from everyone else. No cuddling with your kids. No smooching with your spouse. No falling asleep on the recliner on a Sabbath afternoon watching the Jewish Juggernauts take on the Philistine Phillies.
Leprosy was a terrible affliction. The losses it caused were staggering.
One day, a ten-man leper colony saw Jesus approaching and (from the appropriate distance) called out in one voice, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
Mercy. That’s an unusual concept in our day and age. This past week the ref called the “mercy rule” because Shoreland was winning 10-0 in a soccer sectional, but other than that, you don’t hear of “mercy” in society anymore. You may go to an auto dealer and try to negotiate the price of the vehicle, but you don’t ask the dealer to have mercy on you. A student may ask the teacher for another chance to raise her grade by retaking a test, but that student won’t ask for mercy. When a driver is pulled over for speeding, the driver won’t beg for mercy. Instead, he challenges the police officer, “Trying to may your quota of tickets?” “Why don’t you go out and arrest some real criminals?”
Nobody asks for mercy anymore. That’s because we think we are all equal. Students talk back to teachers. People in the crowed heckle the President. Workers don’t respect their boss. Parents berate their children’s coaches. That’s because we’re all supposedly equal. No one above or below another.
We don’t want and we don’t think we need mercy. Logic tells us we don’t need mercy if we’re equal. Certainly nobody who is equal gets down on bended knee and asks for help. And if someone ever suggested that you might plead for mercy, I can almost hear your reply, “Mercy! Mercy! I’m supposed to ask him for mercy? Just who does he think he is? He’s not the king of me! He’s not my boss! I’m not his slave.”
No one wants to be humble themselves, to be the servant, to empty their ego.
I hope this explains why we don’t like to use the word mercy any longer in society. Of course, that doesn't mean there isn't a time or place for it. Let me explain. In 1989, the last empress of Austria and the last queen of Hungary, a woman by the name of Zita, died. Coming from the Hapsburg family, she wished, according to custom, to be buried in the royal crypt which is in Vienna. When the funeral procession arrived at church, the leader of the group ceremoniously knocked on the door. One of the monks inside answered the knock with the question, “Who is here?” The spokesman for the funeral called out, “Zita, Empress of Austria, Queen of Hungary and of Bohemia, Princess of Bourbon-Parma.” The door remained shut. Eventually, someone knocked again. “Who is here?” came back the question for a second time. This time the answer was shorter: “It is Empress Zita.” The door stayed bolted and closed. Finally the company outside knocked again. “Who is here?” This time the spokesman said, “Zita, a poor sinner.” Then and only then, was the funeral allowed to enter.
If you understand that story, you understand the concept of mercy … and why all of us need to ask for it. From each other, but especially and continually from God. For although there are not many places in society where you will hear the word “mercy,” you have come to the place where you hear of mercy every week. It is so good that all of us “modern-day lepers” have banded together in this place on this day to once again cry out with one voice, “Lord, have mercy!”
I know you. I know your nature. You may know you need mercy, but you don’t want to beg for mercy. Instead you want to give God your title of how good you are. But mercy means that God is greater than you are. You’re not His equal. It means you’ve done something wrong. It means you’ve been up to no good and you need to apologize to the One you have offended. It means you need to admit, “It’s me, a poor sinner.”
You do need mercy. For you are sick. Sick with the leprosy of sin. It has pervaded your mind and filled it with lusts and anger. It has affected your moods so you are grumpy and impatient. It has infected your body so you are falling apart. It has polluted your tongue so you belittle and gossip.
That is why we continually cry out in unison throughout our liturgies, “Lord, have mercy!” Our liturgy puts right our wrong, our weekly failure is undone, and brings us back where we belong. Calling out for, and receiving, our Lord’s promised mercy.
Amazingly, despite our failure, despite our disgusting, disease of sin, our Lord does not withhold His mercy.
Jesus did not withhold His mercy from those pleading, pitiful lepers. As the ten of them walked toward the priests to be officially pronounced cleansed, they became cleansed! All by the miraculous power contained in Jesus’ Word. The nine healed Jews kept walking – too many things to do now that they were healed. No time to turn around to thank Jesus. Plenty of time for that later.
Jesus healed their physical leprosy, but in their ungratefulness you can see that the much more deadly leprosy of sin still infected them.
It is the same sin that infects us. The reason we do not return to Jesus every Sunday in worship is because we have too many things to do now since we are healed. Plenty of time for that later. The reason we are not grateful in our daily prayers is because we take God’s blessings for granted. We do not read and pour over God’s Word because we do not appreciate the miraculous power contained there. We are not happy in life because we are not satisfied with Christ’s forgiveness and His salvation.
Self-centered, ungrateful, thoughtless, unappreciative, rude ingrates. Those words are a good description of the nine lepers. But those words also most certainly describe the lepers relaxing at home, the lepers sitting in the pews and the leper standing in the pulpit.
So now we ungrateful lepers have one more reason why we cry out, “Lord, have mercy!” But notice how Jesus did not “unheal” the nine lepers who did not return to give thanks. In the same way, Jesus does not take His mercy away from us. With His almighty Word, His holy water of Baptism, and His precious body and blood, He responds to our cries for mercy. With these Means of Grace, the Lord finds us who were lost. He heals our diseases. He restores our souls. He cleanses our leprosy. He turns our blindness into sight. He frees the captives. He breaks the darkness with His liberating light. He calms our fears with His Word of peace.
For Jesus took our leprosy upon Himself. He was wounded for our unthankfulness. He was bruised for our lack of worship. He was chastised for our self-centeredness. Jesus descended from heaven, was raised upon the cross, rose from the tomb and ascended back into heaven, all so we might become the objects of His mercy.
Jesus now commends us, “Rise and go, your faith has made you well.” Well with God’s mercy. Well with the faith given you by the Holy Spirit’s power. And what should you do now that you are well in faith in your merciful Lord? Return to Him. Praise God in a loud voice. Throw yourself at Jesus’ feet. Thank Him.
We are not told what the other nine former lepers did after they were healed. Perhaps they ran to the temple. But only the Samaritan realized that there was now a new Temple in town. A new dwelling place of God on earth with His people. Not in a temple of stone, but in a Temple of flesh and bone. And it is to this Temple that we still run. So that we might be healed. So we might be forgiven. So we might be saved. So we might see our loved ones up close and personal in heaven.
If mercy still sounds like a strange topic to you, maybe this last story will drive it home to you. Randy was visiting his five nieces and nephews at their home. He was busy playing with the boys, but he wanted to connect with the girls, too. So he asked his youngest niece, Sally, about her doll collection, “Which one is your favorite?” “Promise you won’t laugh if I tell you?” Sally answered. “No, I won’t laugh,” he said.
She went into the next room and brought back a doll that was the most tattered, dilapidated, worn-out doll he had ever seen – a real refugee from the trash heap. All the hair was missing. The nose was broken off. An arm was cracked. He didn’t laugh, but he couldn’t cover his surprise. He said to her, “Why do you love this one the most?”
The little girl replied, “Because she needs it the most. If I didn’t love her, nobody would.”
And that, my fellow lepers, is mercy. Jesus loves the unlovable. When no one else would love us, approach us, or have anything to do with us, Jesus did. He approached. He loved. He healed. He had mercy.
As 63 year-old Chilean miner, Mario Gomez got down on his knees after he emerged from the tomb of the earth, bowing his head in prayer, clutching the Chilean flag; as the one grateful Samaritan leper got down on his knees as he returned to Jesus; so you, too, get down on your knees to beg, pray and thank: “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Amen.
There has been a news story that has captured America’s attention this week. No, I’m not talking about Courtney Cox’s breakup or Brett Favre’s texting habits. On August 5, 33 miners were buried nearly half a mile underground. But on Wednesday, the miners who had been trapped for more than 2 months deep beneath the Chilean earth were rescued.
It is estimated that the costs of the rescue operation alone had soared beyond $22 million. That’s about $670,000 per miner. Couldn’t that money and effort have been better spent somewhere else? Why did the poor, third world country of Chile spend so much of that money to save some miners? One word – “mercy.”
These miners were separated from their families and human contact by 700,000 tons of rock. They were isolated. But they were also able to see and talk to their loved ones via a video feed. They were even able to shave! The lepers in Jesus’ day were separated from their families and all human contact because of their disgusting disease. They were isolated. They may have been able to see their loved ones, but only from a distance.
Common in Jesus’ day, leprosy was a terrible affliction. It was painful – your fingers and skin would begin to decay, even though you were still alive. They couldn’t shave, for fear that their skin would peal off. It was emotional – who wants to be known as “dead man walking?” It was lonely – lepers could only live with other lepers far away from everyone else. No cuddling with your kids. No smooching with your spouse. No falling asleep on the recliner on a Sabbath afternoon watching the Jewish Juggernauts take on the Philistine Phillies.
Leprosy was a terrible affliction. The losses it caused were staggering.
One day, a ten-man leper colony saw Jesus approaching and (from the appropriate distance) called out in one voice, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
Mercy. That’s an unusual concept in our day and age. This past week the ref called the “mercy rule” because Shoreland was winning 10-0 in a soccer sectional, but other than that, you don’t hear of “mercy” in society anymore. You may go to an auto dealer and try to negotiate the price of the vehicle, but you don’t ask the dealer to have mercy on you. A student may ask the teacher for another chance to raise her grade by retaking a test, but that student won’t ask for mercy. When a driver is pulled over for speeding, the driver won’t beg for mercy. Instead, he challenges the police officer, “Trying to may your quota of tickets?” “Why don’t you go out and arrest some real criminals?”
Nobody asks for mercy anymore. That’s because we think we are all equal. Students talk back to teachers. People in the crowed heckle the President. Workers don’t respect their boss. Parents berate their children’s coaches. That’s because we’re all supposedly equal. No one above or below another.
We don’t want and we don’t think we need mercy. Logic tells us we don’t need mercy if we’re equal. Certainly nobody who is equal gets down on bended knee and asks for help. And if someone ever suggested that you might plead for mercy, I can almost hear your reply, “Mercy! Mercy! I’m supposed to ask him for mercy? Just who does he think he is? He’s not the king of me! He’s not my boss! I’m not his slave.”
No one wants to be humble themselves, to be the servant, to empty their ego.
I hope this explains why we don’t like to use the word mercy any longer in society. Of course, that doesn't mean there isn't a time or place for it. Let me explain. In 1989, the last empress of Austria and the last queen of Hungary, a woman by the name of Zita, died. Coming from the Hapsburg family, she wished, according to custom, to be buried in the royal crypt which is in Vienna. When the funeral procession arrived at church, the leader of the group ceremoniously knocked on the door. One of the monks inside answered the knock with the question, “Who is here?” The spokesman for the funeral called out, “Zita, Empress of Austria, Queen of Hungary and of Bohemia, Princess of Bourbon-Parma.” The door remained shut. Eventually, someone knocked again. “Who is here?” came back the question for a second time. This time the answer was shorter: “It is Empress Zita.” The door stayed bolted and closed. Finally the company outside knocked again. “Who is here?” This time the spokesman said, “Zita, a poor sinner.” Then and only then, was the funeral allowed to enter.
If you understand that story, you understand the concept of mercy … and why all of us need to ask for it. From each other, but especially and continually from God. For although there are not many places in society where you will hear the word “mercy,” you have come to the place where you hear of mercy every week. It is so good that all of us “modern-day lepers” have banded together in this place on this day to once again cry out with one voice, “Lord, have mercy!”
I know you. I know your nature. You may know you need mercy, but you don’t want to beg for mercy. Instead you want to give God your title of how good you are. But mercy means that God is greater than you are. You’re not His equal. It means you’ve done something wrong. It means you’ve been up to no good and you need to apologize to the One you have offended. It means you need to admit, “It’s me, a poor sinner.”
You do need mercy. For you are sick. Sick with the leprosy of sin. It has pervaded your mind and filled it with lusts and anger. It has affected your moods so you are grumpy and impatient. It has infected your body so you are falling apart. It has polluted your tongue so you belittle and gossip.
That is why we continually cry out in unison throughout our liturgies, “Lord, have mercy!” Our liturgy puts right our wrong, our weekly failure is undone, and brings us back where we belong. Calling out for, and receiving, our Lord’s promised mercy.
Amazingly, despite our failure, despite our disgusting, disease of sin, our Lord does not withhold His mercy.
Jesus did not withhold His mercy from those pleading, pitiful lepers. As the ten of them walked toward the priests to be officially pronounced cleansed, they became cleansed! All by the miraculous power contained in Jesus’ Word. The nine healed Jews kept walking – too many things to do now that they were healed. No time to turn around to thank Jesus. Plenty of time for that later.
Jesus healed their physical leprosy, but in their ungratefulness you can see that the much more deadly leprosy of sin still infected them.
It is the same sin that infects us. The reason we do not return to Jesus every Sunday in worship is because we have too many things to do now since we are healed. Plenty of time for that later. The reason we are not grateful in our daily prayers is because we take God’s blessings for granted. We do not read and pour over God’s Word because we do not appreciate the miraculous power contained there. We are not happy in life because we are not satisfied with Christ’s forgiveness and His salvation.
Self-centered, ungrateful, thoughtless, unappreciative, rude ingrates. Those words are a good description of the nine lepers. But those words also most certainly describe the lepers relaxing at home, the lepers sitting in the pews and the leper standing in the pulpit.
So now we ungrateful lepers have one more reason why we cry out, “Lord, have mercy!” But notice how Jesus did not “unheal” the nine lepers who did not return to give thanks. In the same way, Jesus does not take His mercy away from us. With His almighty Word, His holy water of Baptism, and His precious body and blood, He responds to our cries for mercy. With these Means of Grace, the Lord finds us who were lost. He heals our diseases. He restores our souls. He cleanses our leprosy. He turns our blindness into sight. He frees the captives. He breaks the darkness with His liberating light. He calms our fears with His Word of peace.
For Jesus took our leprosy upon Himself. He was wounded for our unthankfulness. He was bruised for our lack of worship. He was chastised for our self-centeredness. Jesus descended from heaven, was raised upon the cross, rose from the tomb and ascended back into heaven, all so we might become the objects of His mercy.
Jesus now commends us, “Rise and go, your faith has made you well.” Well with God’s mercy. Well with the faith given you by the Holy Spirit’s power. And what should you do now that you are well in faith in your merciful Lord? Return to Him. Praise God in a loud voice. Throw yourself at Jesus’ feet. Thank Him.
We are not told what the other nine former lepers did after they were healed. Perhaps they ran to the temple. But only the Samaritan realized that there was now a new Temple in town. A new dwelling place of God on earth with His people. Not in a temple of stone, but in a Temple of flesh and bone. And it is to this Temple that we still run. So that we might be healed. So we might be forgiven. So we might be saved. So we might see our loved ones up close and personal in heaven.
If mercy still sounds like a strange topic to you, maybe this last story will drive it home to you. Randy was visiting his five nieces and nephews at their home. He was busy playing with the boys, but he wanted to connect with the girls, too. So he asked his youngest niece, Sally, about her doll collection, “Which one is your favorite?” “Promise you won’t laugh if I tell you?” Sally answered. “No, I won’t laugh,” he said.
She went into the next room and brought back a doll that was the most tattered, dilapidated, worn-out doll he had ever seen – a real refugee from the trash heap. All the hair was missing. The nose was broken off. An arm was cracked. He didn’t laugh, but he couldn’t cover his surprise. He said to her, “Why do you love this one the most?”
The little girl replied, “Because she needs it the most. If I didn’t love her, nobody would.”
And that, my fellow lepers, is mercy. Jesus loves the unlovable. When no one else would love us, approach us, or have anything to do with us, Jesus did. He approached. He loved. He healed. He had mercy.
As 63 year-old Chilean miner, Mario Gomez got down on his knees after he emerged from the tomb of the earth, bowing his head in prayer, clutching the Chilean flag; as the one grateful Samaritan leper got down on his knees as he returned to Jesus; so you, too, get down on your knees to beg, pray and thank: “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Amen.
21st Sunday after Pentecost on October 17, 2010 at Epiphany
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