Friday in the 12th Week of Ordinary Time, June 28, 2024

Matthew 8, 1-4

When Jesus came down from the mountain, great crowds followed him. And then a leper approached, did him homage, and said, “Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean.” He stretched out his hand, touched him, and said, “I will do it. Be made clean.” His leprosy was cleansed immediately. Then Jesus said to him, “See that you tell no one, but go show yourself to the priest, and offer the gift that Moses prescribed; that will be proof for them.”

Often when folks are looking for some kind of assistance, usually financial, they tell long and involved stories of bad luck or terrible loss, or of someone else’s  failure.  The people they go to for help, whether social workers, commuters, ministers, or priests listen with varying degrees of patience, wishing the speaker would simply state what he wants.  It is always the same story, when it comes to brass tacks, and the longer the story the less it hangs together, but unless the listener is pressed for time, he listens, and helps if he can.  

In the above account from St. Matthew’s Gospel, a leper approaches Jesus and says to him directly, “Lord, if you wish, you can make me clean.”  The Greek δύνασαί, here translated as “you can”, has the sense of “you are able”, or, “you have the power” to make me clean.  The leper acknowledges him as “Lord”, not “teacher”, which tells us that he recognizes himself as Christ’s subject.  Then he says to him, You have the power to make me clean, as though putting forward a claim on the Lord’s care, even reminding him of his responsibility.  The leper’s prayer — for that is what it is — possesses a marvelous concision.  He knows that Jesus and everyone else around him knows his condition.  The smell of his rotting flesh by itself would have given him away.

The leper says, “If you wish”, or, “If you will”.  He does not attempt to flatter Jesus, as many people looking for favors offer flattery in order to secure them.  His words are few and direct.  They reflect a faith that is also direct, a certainty that all is dependent on the will of the One before him.  “You can make me clean.”  It is not an order or a cringing plea, but a presentation of a need.  The man seems to have approached Jesus suddenly, casting aside the strict laws mandating that he keep a distance from those who were healthy.  Perhaps he had been taking refuge in one of the countless niches and caves in the mountains in that region, and come out rather abruptly when he saw Jesus descend after speaking to the crowd.  It is not clear how far the disease had progressed in his body, but it seems that he could still walk and communicate.  He also seems to be alone, rather than with a group of fellow sufferers, which strikes one as curious because they did live and move around in small groups.  Living outside, his clothing must have gotten ragged and he himself would have become disheveled, perhaps stooped over over a walking stick.  He would have been hungry, his scanty meals eaten at irregular times.  Even so, there was his faith, a bright flame among the spent charcoal.  

“You can make me clean.”  The leper lays his helplessness before Jesus along with his statement of faith.  There are no stories, no excuses, no blaming anyone for what has happened to him, no attempt to shame Jesus into helping him.  And Jesus “stretched out his hand, touched him.”  Jesus did not always touch the sick to heal them.  That he does so here is noteworthy because he touched a leper, rendering himself unclean.  Jesus was not afraid to make himself unclean.  He says to the leper, “I do will it.  Be made clean” (better translated as, I will it: Be made clean).  Here we see, in a fleeting moment, all that Jesus did in his life on earth: he touched humanity, leprous with sin, he healed those who presented themselves to him, seeking the cure only he could give, and in the process renders himself unclean — he takes on our uncleanness, “was made sin for us” (2 Corinthians 5, 21).  And in doing so, he saves us.  “His leprosy was cleansed immediately.”  That is, not by any natural means, but supernaturally.  Likewise, the conferral of baptism immediately cleanses a person from all sin, personal and original.  

Then Jesus says, “See that you tell no one.”  And he instructs him to follow the Mosaic Law so that he will be recognized by the authorities as cured.  But why would Jesus order him not to tell anyone?  It could not be that he wanted to conceal his power from public knowledge.  He had already openly performed a large number of miracles.  Perhaps this was a test of obedience meant for this man particularly.  Jesus often tested the individuals with whom he came into contact, as when he told the rich young man, “Why do you call me ‘good’?” (Mark 10, 18).  

So much occurs in this brief, laconic account.  Especially, we learn how to pray.  We go to God directly and ask for help, presenting both our need and our faith in him, and letting him help us in the way he judges best.