"Lucky Beggars" - A Sermon on Mark 1:40-45 by Virgil Thompson
In this sermon, the law/gospel hermeneutic arises from the central dogma of the faith, God’s gracious justification of the ungodly. The aim of the sermon is to address the text to the believer in such a way that it stops sinners who seek to justify themselves dead in their tracks, so that the new creation in Christ might come forth by faith in the promise of God’s justifying judgment.
The Sermon
In the story before us, a leper comes begging the help of Jesus. With no questions asked, no prerequisites to be met, no background checks to be run, and no conditions attached, Jesus in spectacular fashion helps him out of his problem. The story, according to the plain words on the page, is completely clear and straightforward. There is no fine print. There are no qualifications, whatsoever, not one. In this aspect of it, nothing’s been lost in translation. No ifs, ands, or buts. A leper comes begging the help of Jesus. With no questions asked, no prerequisites to be met, and no conditions to be kept Jesus heals him of his disease, clean as a whistle!
There’s nothing else told about the leper. We are not told whether the leper was a particularly pious and deserving leper or whether the leper was an undeserving lout. We are not told whether he was a devout Catholic or an old gnesio Lutheran or a new-age spiritual leper or a complete unbelieving atheistic leper, whether he had kept up his tithe and was regularly in worship, whether he was kind to animals and a regular contributor to the children’s aid fund. All of that may matter for something. But apparently when it comes to getting the help of Jesus it does not matter for anything.
There’s nothing about the leper, except that he suffered from leprosy, a disease which was thought at the time to be curtains—incurable and wildly contagious.
There’s just the request, to which Jesus responded by jumping in with both feet—“reaching out to him Jesus took hold of him.” Here the standard English translations do not quite do it justice. “Stretching out his hand Jesus touched him”—that’s not it. “Stretching out his hand Jesus touched him” is way too cautious, like my friend who, during the cold and flu season, touches student papers with surgically antiseptic latex gloves.
That is not the way of Jesus. Not if the original Greek of the story is to be taken in its plain sense, and the plain sense of the words on the page is the only thing we’ve got to go on. The way the Greek tells it, Jesus reached out his hand and took hold of him with everything he had in him, like a long-lost lover. Jesus held nothing back, threw caution to the wind. To the request, “If you will, you could heal me,” Jesus answered: “You bet. I will. Be clean. You are mine. You’re the whole reason from heaven above to earth I’ve come, for the very likes of you. You bet. I will. Be clean.”
With the snap of a word the leper was healed, completely, fit as a fiddle, restored to the wholeness of health and life!
What fantastic fortune. The poor leper just happened to run into Jesus. We don’t know whether he was searching for the religious truth or didn’t give two figs worth for the religious truth. Don’t know if he had memorized the catechism or whether he ever heard of the catechism. The only thing we know is that the leper knew enough, “If you will,” he begged Jesus, “you could make me clean.”
I’ll give you this much. There is a certain brashness to it. The church could take a lesson from the leper. The church and its Sunday school is too often way too timid in the approach to Jesus. If my religious instruction had been left at that, I’d never have known. But lucky for me there have been teachers and preachers in faith who themselves have been to Sunday school with this leprous beggar of our story.
The leper did not approach Jesus on the basis of his own goodness, as if God owed him. The leper was holding out for the goodwill of Jesus. Not like some, who can’t bring themselves to trust the merciful goodness of Jesus. They have to turn it around, for example, pointing out that after all the leper did ask for help, as though it was the asking that was the main thing. But the leper was not confused. He knew what to pin his hopes on. He pinned his hope solely on the gracious goodness of Jesus. Let his fortunes rise or fall on the goodwill of Jesus.
He was not disappointed. Jesus didn’t bat an eyelash. Jesus reached out in his compassion and with the flick of his word, “I will, leprosy be damned, be clean, restored to life and health, just the way the Lord God meant it all along.”
And here’s the best part, that’s just the way that Jesus is reaching out to you now in the sounding of the sermon—no ifs, ands, or buts, whatever your history to this moment, however you imagine yourself, leper, loser, lout, or loner, “Jesus reaches out to take hold of you and make you his own, takes on your leprosy and give you his own clean bill of health.”
What else can it mean? For you. The body of Christ given for you. The blood of Christ shed for you. No questions asked. No conditions to be kept. Take it in. Swallow it. Go for it, whole hog, like a hungry beggar.
That’s how we come to be Christian, just the way we come to the table of the Lord, in the way of the leper. The way of the leper is the Lutheran way. We don’t come boasting of our caring kindness and openness, to prove us worthy of his help. If we have any goodness of that sort we leave it with the neighbor where it can be of benefit.
Our boldness, brashness, in coming to the Lord is anchored solely in the promise of Jesus’ compassion for beggars. That’s what we are, when it comes to Jesus. We are beggars. As an old friend from Montana used to brag, “We are just forgiven sinners freeloading on the grace of our Lord.”
No wonder the leper couldn’t contain himself. Imagine the utter good fortune of it. Bumping into Jesus like that. No wonder the leper couldn’t hold it in, had to tell, the Lord Jesus is God to us, unlike any other god. Did you ever here of such a thing, anywhere but here? And think of this too, your utter good fortune, because God has authorized me, ordained me to tell, he’s also made himself God for you, through the free giving, pouring himself out, given and shed for you, full body embrace, lucky beggars!
There’s nothing else told about the leper. We are not told whether the leper was a particularly pious and deserving leper or whether the leper was an undeserving lout. We are not told whether he was a devout Catholic or an old gnesio Lutheran or a new-age spiritual leper or a complete unbelieving atheistic leper, whether he had kept up his tithe and was regularly in worship, whether he was kind to animals and a regular contributor to the children’s aid fund. All of that may matter for something. But apparently when it comes to getting the help of Jesus it does not matter for anything.
There’s nothing about the leper, except that he suffered from leprosy, a disease which was thought at the time to be curtains—incurable and wildly contagious.
There’s just the request, to which Jesus responded by jumping in with both feet—“reaching out to him Jesus took hold of him.” Here the standard English translations do not quite do it justice. “Stretching out his hand Jesus touched him”—that’s not it. “Stretching out his hand Jesus touched him” is way too cautious, like my friend who, during the cold and flu season, touches student papers with surgically antiseptic latex gloves.
That is not the way of Jesus. Not if the original Greek of the story is to be taken in its plain sense, and the plain sense of the words on the page is the only thing we’ve got to go on. The way the Greek tells it, Jesus reached out his hand and took hold of him with everything he had in him, like a long-lost lover. Jesus held nothing back, threw caution to the wind. To the request, “If you will, you could heal me,” Jesus answered: “You bet. I will. Be clean. You are mine. You’re the whole reason from heaven above to earth I’ve come, for the very likes of you. You bet. I will. Be clean.”
With the snap of a word the leper was healed, completely, fit as a fiddle, restored to the wholeness of health and life!
What fantastic fortune. The poor leper just happened to run into Jesus. We don’t know whether he was searching for the religious truth or didn’t give two figs worth for the religious truth. Don’t know if he had memorized the catechism or whether he ever heard of the catechism. The only thing we know is that the leper knew enough, “If you will,” he begged Jesus, “you could make me clean.”
I’ll give you this much. There is a certain brashness to it. The church could take a lesson from the leper. The church and its Sunday school is too often way too timid in the approach to Jesus. If my religious instruction had been left at that, I’d never have known. But lucky for me there have been teachers and preachers in faith who themselves have been to Sunday school with this leprous beggar of our story.
The leper did not approach Jesus on the basis of his own goodness, as if God owed him. The leper was holding out for the goodwill of Jesus. Not like some, who can’t bring themselves to trust the merciful goodness of Jesus. They have to turn it around, for example, pointing out that after all the leper did ask for help, as though it was the asking that was the main thing. But the leper was not confused. He knew what to pin his hopes on. He pinned his hope solely on the gracious goodness of Jesus. Let his fortunes rise or fall on the goodwill of Jesus.
He was not disappointed. Jesus didn’t bat an eyelash. Jesus reached out in his compassion and with the flick of his word, “I will, leprosy be damned, be clean, restored to life and health, just the way the Lord God meant it all along.”
And here’s the best part, that’s just the way that Jesus is reaching out to you now in the sounding of the sermon—no ifs, ands, or buts, whatever your history to this moment, however you imagine yourself, leper, loser, lout, or loner, “Jesus reaches out to take hold of you and make you his own, takes on your leprosy and give you his own clean bill of health.”
What else can it mean? For you. The body of Christ given for you. The blood of Christ shed for you. No questions asked. No conditions to be kept. Take it in. Swallow it. Go for it, whole hog, like a hungry beggar.
That’s how we come to be Christian, just the way we come to the table of the Lord, in the way of the leper. The way of the leper is the Lutheran way. We don’t come boasting of our caring kindness and openness, to prove us worthy of his help. If we have any goodness of that sort we leave it with the neighbor where it can be of benefit.
Our boldness, brashness, in coming to the Lord is anchored solely in the promise of Jesus’ compassion for beggars. That’s what we are, when it comes to Jesus. We are beggars. As an old friend from Montana used to brag, “We are just forgiven sinners freeloading on the grace of our Lord.”
No wonder the leper couldn’t contain himself. Imagine the utter good fortune of it. Bumping into Jesus like that. No wonder the leper couldn’t hold it in, had to tell, the Lord Jesus is God to us, unlike any other god. Did you ever here of such a thing, anywhere but here? And think of this too, your utter good fortune, because God has authorized me, ordained me to tell, he’s also made himself God for you, through the free giving, pouring himself out, given and shed for you, full body embrace, lucky beggars!
