Homily

“But the word of God is not chained,” says Paul, enchained in prison, as he composes a letter for Timothy (2 Tim 2:9). And, he adds, “Therefore I endure everything for the sake of the elect, so that they may also obtain the salvation.” The apostle’s difficult words speak to us of the freedom and strength of Holy Scripture, which we hear announced to us every Sunday. In this sense, the Word of God truly is a precious gift from the Lord. The saddening circumstances that affect us or the world cannot suffocate the Gospel, just as the chains that bound Paul could not stop him from his ministry of preaching the Word of God. Every Sunday, whether we participate in the liturgy or not, the Gospel returns to speak to the life of all peoples. We could say that, unlike Paul who was “chained like a criminal” because of the Gospel, we put ourselves in chains to avoid listening to that singular word that can save us. The very Gospel reading this Sunday (Lk 17:1-19) reveals to us the power of God’s Word.
Jesus finds himself in the territory of Jezreel, between the region of Galilee and Samaria. While entering the village, ten lepers approached him (it was easy to encounter them near such villages). Keeping their distance, as the law prescribed, they shouted out to him, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” (v. 13). Jesus does not avoid them, as others do, but even stops to talk to them. Then, he sends them away, saying, “Go and show yourselves to the priests” (v. 14). He does not heal them right away as he had done in other cases (Lk 5:12-16) nor does he touch them with his hands. Rather, he sends them to see the priests, asking for an act of faith on their part. The ten lepers immediately obey and set out toward the priests. The evangelist notes that as they were walking they were “made clean” or, we could say, they became aware that they were healed. All of this is not without meaning: the healing, the miracle, is not a prodigious fact that occurred suddenly as if it were the result of some magic. In fact, we could compare the first part of this Gospel story with the first steps of every conversion and of every disciple’s life. Conversion, furthermore, always arises from a cry, from a prayer, just like the cry of those ten lepers. Every Sunday, at the beginning of the liturgy, we repeat, “Lord, have mercy!” Healing begins when we recognize our illness, our need for help, protection and support.
Unlike people who are often distracted and do not hear others who cry for help, the Lord hears and stops in front of those who cry out. The Lord does not only stop to listen, but also to respond. As we heard from the apostle, the Word of God is never in chains: it speaks with liberty and power, always. If anything, the problem lies with us. We are the ones who do not listen, either because we get discouraged or because we are too full of our own words. This Sunday we are asked to listen to the Word of the Gospel and to put our faith in it, as those ten lepers had done. Heeding Jesus’ word, they set out toward the priests and, while they were walking, they were all healed. This is to say that healing begins when we begin to follow the Gospel, no longer ourselves and our mundane habits. In this sense, our spiritual journey leads us to a healing, in both body and soul, which is determined to the extent to which we listen to the Gospel. An analogous thing happens to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus: they were healed of their illness—that is, of their profound sadness of heart—while they were walking and listening to Jesus.
The Gospel passage this Sunday, after having noted that all of the ten lepers were healed, adds that only one turned back “praising God with a loud voice” and as soon as he saw Jesus “he prostrated himself at his feet and thanked him” (v. 16). With this gesture of gratitude, the evangelist underlines a further step in conversion: recognizing Jesus and entrusting one’s life to him. Complete healing also touches the heart. We could say that the tenth leper was not only “made clean,” but was also “saved.” The other nine, all of them Jewish, perhaps regarded their healing as a given, because they were descendants of Abraham, whereas the tenth, a foreigner, saw his healing as a grace, as an unmerited gift that required love in return. He is an example to all of us to welcome God’s free compassion for our life and to thank Him for having bent down upon us.