The Leper

Years ago, Christy and I lived in Cagayan de Oro on the island of Mindanao, the southernmost large island in Philippine archipelago. We regularly shopped in the local market, named Agora. Years later that I learned the word Agora was an ancient Greek word meaning marketplace or public gathering space. I always enjoyed the busy crowds and colorful stalls with wares artfully stacked to entice buyers. In the early eighties swarms of jeepneys converged on the large barn-like structure with a red corrugated tin roof, disgorging passengers intent on finding items needed for daily life. If you needed it, you could find it at the Agora. If you could not find it, you didn’t need it. After a few weeks we found our favored vendors and normally frequented the same places, vectoring our walks through the crowded aisles each visit. The bumpy, near daily, ride soon became a fixture in our lives. Once we rode on a jeepney with two five-foot tuna tied to either side of the back entry. There was one other fixture of the Agora market, the begging leper.

He squatted in the same spot every day, holding up two gnarled stubbs that once were hands. Missing most of his nose and teeth, he was a twisted sunburned caricature of a man. At that time, the leper colonies and hospitals would provide negative lepers paperwork enabling them to beg in public. We saw him, rain or shine, each time we came to the market. For me, having grown up in the relatively sheltered environs of Abilene, Texas, seeing a leper almost daily was quite a shock. He was uncommunicative, never responding to my attempts to speak with him. The only real response was a politely muttered, “Salamat (Cebuano for thankyou),” whenever I gave him a few pesos, which was normally every time I saw him.  To be truthful, I never made serious attempts at communication. His mutilated hands and visage put me off and it was just a bit easier to drop a few pesos in his battered cardboard box, accept his thanks, and move on. So unlike Jesus.

In the closing verses of Mark, chapter 1 we read these tender and challenging words, “40 And a leper came to him, imploring him, and kneeling said to him, “If you will, you can make me clean.” 41 Moved with pity, he stretched out his hand and touched him and said to him, “I will; be clean.” 42 And immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean.” Mark 1:40-42 ESV Before he healed, Jesus reached out and touched. Many of the healing accounts include this poignant and crucial detail. In the Jewish world He made himself ceremonially unclean. And even in our day of living under the new covenant, I found it almost impossible to make myself ceremonially unclean through touch or serious human interaction. Here’s the thing, I found it easier to pitch a few pesos the lepers way than to try and meet his true human needs. 

Meeting people’s needs, their true human needs, is difficult. It is messy. It is never easy. Frequently, it threatens our stable lives. We enjoy associating with those most like us. I look around during worship and I see people generally like myself. We’re all relatively prosperous, buttoned-down, and with few sin problems that spill out into the public domain. At least what we count as sin. We do not really attract those that differ from us. A few verses later in the next chapter of Mark, we read, “15 And as he reclined at table in his house, many tax collectors and sinners were reclining with Jesus and his disciples, for there were many who followed him. 16 And the scribes of the Pharisees, when they saw that he was eating with sinners and tax collectors, said to his disciples, “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” Mark 2:15-16 ESV Jesus scandalized the Pharisees by associating with those who were different. We certainly do not want those how are different associating with us. In fact, in many churches we employ teams carrying concealed weapons in order to make sure that those with problems keep their distance. Jesus ate with them, let them weep on His feet, and touched them first. 

We want to erect walls and legislate barriers to those who are different. We find their messiness embarrassing and challenging, forgetting our own innate depravity. But our reluctance to associate with or help those who differ from us is more than something we need to grow in. Apparently, it gets to the core of who we are as Christ-followers. In one of the  most sobering passages in the gospels we read, “45 Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ 46 And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” Matthew 25:45-46 ESV Our ability to welcome and care for those who are suffering and need, dare I say, those who are different and problematic, reveals something basic and fundamental about our relationship with the Lord. Perhaps we ought to spend more time swallowing our pride and dignity and loving the unlovable instead of seeking ways to fence them out of our view. After all, these are the type of people Jesus associated and dined with, and we are no better.

In the eyes of God, I am no different that the poor beggar holding up gnarled stubs in the scorching tropical sun. I look the same to Him. We focus on our physical success, forgetting it is all blessing from God. We casually disregard our own spiritual depravity, holding others to a standard we fail to meet. All the while, God calls out to us, reminding us that we are turning our backs on our brothers and sisters. No matter our stance God still reaches out to them, inviting them into the great banquet. 

How sad for us. Jesus, our living Lord, still reaches out and touches. He still welcomes. He still absorbs our sin and pain, leaving healing in His wake. He took all our sin, shame, and ugliness to the cross in a thick coat of blackness where the fury of God burned it all away, leaving only His holy son behind. Yes, I know that particular image is not in scripture; however, I see it every day in my mind when I seek forgiveness for my failures and a man. Oh to be like Him in His willingness to reach out and touch those in need, to open welcome arms to those who are different, those who need love and help.