I must admit that I am uneasy with the stories of Jesus healing people. My modern sensibilities get uncomfortable when I read them and the temptation is to ignore them, as did Thomas Jefferson, the principal author of the Declaration of Independence. He also wrote a lesser-known book, called The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth. Often called the Jefferson Bible, its purpose was to glean the historical teachings of Jesus from the Gospels. Jefferson boldly removed sections that he believed were either not original sayings of Jesus or misinterpretations added by the gospel writers. He removed all supernatural occurrences, including Jesus performing miracles and healing.
Of course, you won't find any indication of Jefferson's theology in the many quotes in the Jefferson Monument. Speaking of which, when our son Thomas was around three years old, we were at the Jefferson monument and pointed out to him that the big man in the monument and he had the same first name, Thomas. We also showed him a nickel with Jefferson's face on it. He looked it over and said, "I bet his Momma and Daddy were proud of him when they put his face on that nickel." I am sure the Jefferson Bible is a little known fact to most people who carry around his face on their nickels and assume this founding father was a Christian when, in fact, Jefferson did not even believe in Jesus' divinity.
As uneasy as I am, I am not ready to join Jefferson in dismissing all the miracles and healing stories. One of my seminary mentors, Bill Herzog, in his excellent book, Prophet and Teacher: An Introduction to the Historical Jesus, concludes that "it is, historically speaking, a virtual certainty that Jesus performed mighty works that we call healings and exorcisms." This is supported by the scholarly "criterion of multiple attestation of sources and forms and criterion of coherence." (p. 19)
However, that does not mean that each specific account is historical, as we can see how the gospel writers often changed the context and details, sometimes dramatically, for their own narrative and theological purposes. The first three gospels each have a similar version of the first story in today's text, the healing of a leper. However, they each place it a different time in Jesus' ministry. Luke places the story right after Jesus calls the first disciples. In Mark, it occurs later while Jesus and his disciples are on one of their earliest journeys around Galilee. Matthew has this story immediately after Jesus finishes the Sermon on the Mount.
Matthew says, "When Jesus had come down from the mountain, great crowds followed him; and there was a leper who came to him." (Biblical quotes from NRSV) In Jesus' time, leprosy was widely regarded as a punishment for sin. A person with leprosy was considered ritually unclean, thus banned from the Temple. Anyone who came into physical contact with a leper would also be considered unclean, so lepers were excluded from the larger community. This particular leper was bold enough, or desperate enough, to come kneel before Jesus, and say, "Lord, if you choose, you can make me clean." When he says this, he is not questioning Jesus' power to heal him, but wondering whether Jesus would consider him too unworthy to choose to heal. Virtually all of those who witnessed this would assume that he was unworthy. That is why it would have been rather shocking when Jesus stretched out his hand and touched the leper, saying, "I do choose. Be made clean!" By touching him, Jesus himself would have been made ritually unclean, which did not seem to bother him in least, though it would have been disgusting and immoral to those who closely observed and enforced the purity laws.
"Immediately his leprosy was cleansed. Then Jesus said to him, 'See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer the gift that Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.'" What is happening here is just as important to the man as the healing, for Jesus restores him as a full participant in the Temple and in community.
Matthew follows this with the story of Jesus and a centurion who came asking that he heal his servant. Jesus is amazed by this Gentile's belief in his power and authority and says, "Truly, I tell you, in no one in Israel have I found such faith." And then he heals the centurion's servant.
Then comes the story of the healing of Peter's motherˆin-law and others. These are the first three miracles of Jesus in Matthew's gospel. In each case, the recipient has been denied full participation in the community: the leper is excluded as being unclean, the centurion's servant excluded as a Gentile, and Peter's mother as a woman. Matthew is undoubtedly using these stories to speak to the situation of his own church community, which included Gentiles and women and others considered unclean. Because of this, Matthew's community had been excluded from the larger Jewish community. As Oakhurst found out, whom you include can get you kicked out.
In the accounts of Jesus healing people, it is not only about restoring people to physical well being. It is about restoring them to their community and more importantly, God's community. Herzog says, "When Jesus touches a leper, the leper comes clean, but Jesus does not catch the infection. His touch redraws the boundary between clean and unclean, and by the finger of God, Jesus releases the power of the reign of God to reconstitute the people of God. Every healing or exorcism was a gathering of the exiles." (p.20)
For Jesus, healing was much more than curing someone of a particular illness. The real healing came when they were brought back into the community from which they had been expelled. That's hard to understand in a culture that values individualism so much more than community. Every person Jesus cured later died of something. But hopefully, they died surrounded by people who cared about them and not isolated and alone.
Oakhurst member Dave Hilton is a retired medical doctor. Dave and Laveta Hilton lived and served as missionaries in rural Nigeria during the sixties and seventies. Dave has a story that illustrates this well. He recalls, "Festivities began on Christmas Eve, not with decorating evergreen trees or exchanging presents, but with each of many congregations singing and line dancing from village to village witnessing to what the birth of Christ meant in their lives. Our house was on a hill where we could hear the singing and drumming all night long. Each year at some point we could hear at least one group getting closer and closer until they arrived at our house, usually in the middle of the night.
"One year a group came from the village of Nain, about ten miles from us, which is populated by about a hundred people with leprosy, all my patients. On arriving, the parade quickly formed a circle on the patio and continued dancing and singing songs of joy as we joined them in our bathrobes. In the dim light of a few kerosene lanterns we could see the missing fingers and toes and grotesque faces of leprosy.
"Most evident, however, was the joy of Christmas enthusiastically expressed in the merry making. Pastor Yakub was leading the singing, waving his fingerless stubby hands in the air and keeping time in a fancy two-step with his toeless stumpy feet. His wide grin revealed his only two teeth as well as his joy at the coming of Christ. His raspy voice would call out a line of lyric in the Hausa language and the whole group would repeat with great fervor. After a half hour of singing, individuals began to tell, many with tears, of their gratitude that Jesus brought not only medicine to arrest their leprosy but good news for their souls as well."
Dave recently wrote these words: "Healing is not the same as curing. Although they may happen together, one often occurs without the other. Curing is the restoration of a person to his or her state of health before an illness occurred. This is the goal of most medical interventions. Healing is the personal transformation that takes place through an illness or adversity." Dave wrote this as part of an introduction to a new ministry the deacons offer beginning today. It is based on an early Christian practice, described in the book of James: "Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord." (James 5:14)
As Dave points out, "anointing for healing is practiced by increasing numbers of Protestant churches in America. For many, anointing has provided a powerful experience of healing—physical, spiritual or emotional. Anointing may be done for healing of memories, of relationships, or of challenging circumstances. It may be received for oneself or for a family member or friend. Some of our deacons have received training in anointing for healing and will be available today during the serving of communion, and in the future each time we have communion . . . . The anointer or the oil does not do the healing. They are simply channels of healing—what some call a means of grace—from God."
All of this has taken on a new meaning for me in the last weeks. A couple of weeks ago, my mother, sister, and I sat in a doctor's office waiting for confirmation of what we already knew was not good news. In my mind, I still imagine that doctors are supposed to be older than me, so I was surprised again when this young woman, looking like she was no more than about thirty years old, came in. She sat down on a stool in front of the wheel chair Momma was in, looking at her at eye level. She began asking questions that did not make sense and when we all were puzzled, she apologized, saying that she was thinking of the wrong patient. At first I was put off by this, but not for long, as I began to appreciate her manner. She was straightforward, but caring. She explained to us that Momma had Metastatic Squamous Cell Carcinoma. Behind the technical name, it was cancer that she explained was inoperable and incurable. My sister and I asked questions and the young doctor answered them patiently. She laid out the options, which the oncologist would later confirm. About the most they could do was palliative care, to control pain, and perhaps some radiation to reduce the painful swelling of the lymph nodes in her leg and groin. My mother did not speak at all though all this, seemingly stunned by it all. When the doctor asked her directly if she had any questions or concerns, she still did not speak, but shook her head no.
Then the young doctor surprised us all. She looked in Momma's eyes and asked, "What is most important to you?" Momma's eyes lit up and she began to talk animatedly and at length about how much she loved her children and grand-children." The doctor listened and smiled. When Momma finished, she asked her, "What is it you want to do?" Momma did not have to think a second about that, saying, "I want to see my sister and brother, and I want to see my friends in Erlanger where I used to live."
Then the doctor looked at Momma and us and said, "Well, being with those you love and doing what you want to do is more important than any medical treatment. In fact, do not let the medical treatment interfere with that." I realized this was a wise doctor, perhaps an unusual doctor, who was telling us about the difference between curing and healing.
Over the years, I have often thought of myself as growing away from my mother's church and theology beginning when I was an early teen. Early on, I became wary of the emotional Pentecostal style and anti-intellectualism of the Free Will Baptist Church I grew up in. I became skeptical of church in general, which in many ways has really never changed. My understanding of the Bible has grown through college and seminary and being a pastor, and I am fascinated with who the historical Jesus was and uncovering the interpretations added by the New Testament authors. Meanwhile, Momma has read her Bible every night, taking it literally, and not needing to analyze much since the words of Jesus are right there printed in red. Then she always prays, including prayers for each of her siblings, her children and grandchildren, that of course, including me.
It's not Momma's theology that will get her through this final journey; it's her faith. At the end of the long day last Monday, Momma told my niece Starr, "I know Jesus suffered and he will be with me in my suffering." Later she told me, "Honey, I know that when it's all over, I'll be in heaven with God."
She helped me see that it will not be just my theology that will get me through this final journey; it's my faith. My prayers will be like those of the man after Jesus' healed his son of a life-long disease, "Lord I believe, help my unbelief." (Mark 9:24)
When we later asked the oncologist how long we could expect her to live, he said, "Of course no one knows but if I had to guess, I would say single digit months rather than double-digit months." We all know theoretically that life is precious because it will end too soon for those we love and for ourselves as well. Most times, we live in denial of that; but times come when we can not pretend its not true.
This afternoon, I leave to pick up my Momma and sisters in Sylva, North Carolina, and we'll drive to Charlotte to stay with my brother. We will visit Momma's two living siblings, one who has Alzheimer's and will likely not recognize her, which matters not. We'll also return to the little mill community where she lived some 60 years, and where we all grew up, to visit her old friends.
We canceled her Monday morning doctor's appointment that was to prepare her for possible radiation treatments. The young doctor will understand. We are off on a journey. We are not looking for a cure, but we will be looking for healing. Pray for us that it might be so.