"Where Are the Nine?" A Thanksgiving Reflection

While on his way to Jerusalem, passing between Samaria and Galilee, Jesus was “met by ten lepers, who stood at distance,” pleading for his mercy and healing. By standing at a distance, the lepers displayed caution, afraid of infecting others, including Christ and his disciples. After all, leprosy was considered a death sentence, and those infected endured complete ostracization from civilization, not merely for its commutability and even bodily horror, but also for the belief that it marked divine punishment for one’s sins.

Yet Christ, in his mercy, showed compassion toward the suffering invalids, who, no doubt, were banned from worshiping properly in the Temple — and therefore, banned from full-communion in the Covenant.

In Luke’s Gospel, which recounts the episode, Jesus tells the ten lepers to “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” While en route, following his direction, the once infected discovered they had been miraculously cleansed. Though ten were healed, only one — a Samaritan — “turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks.” It is hard to gauge exactly how Jesus must have felt in that moment, since Luke provides no inflection to Christ’s response, but ultimately he seems to express a deep sorrow. After all, he asks, “Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?”

The passage ends with Christ’s love for the Samaritan, saying, “Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.”

But what happened to the other nine? Scripture provides no answer to the rest of their lives. One can only hope they are residing with God in his eternal glory. Yet the lack of a clear answer is chilling — for it reflects the human heart’s brokenness.

More often than not, we are akin to the nine: ungrateful, selfish, or ignorant of God’s blessings in our daily lives. But who were the nine lepers? The fact Luke’s Gospel — and Christ himself — identifies the one who returned as a Samaritan and foreigner, reveals the others may have been Jews. Samaritans had a fraught relationship with Jews, extending back to when a civil war split the Kingdom of Israel nearly 900 years prior to Christ. For Jesus to acknowledge and heal the “foreigner,” the episode serves as an instruction to his disciples — then and now — that simply because one was born or baptized into the Covenant, that does not guarantee spiritual fortitude, persistent prayer, proper worship, or even oneness with God.

Ultimately, the nine lacked self-awareness and humility. But more than that, they failed to show gratitude for an immense gift. With Christ’s healing, the nine could re-enter society and rejoin their families and friends. However, instead of recognizing God’s benevolence by praising him first, they had let other interests supersede the author of Creation.

How often are we like the nine? How often do we praise God, first thing in the morning, for the new day — a day we did not earn on our own or even deserve? How often do we simply say, “Thank you” for our lives, his love and mercy? Or even say grace before a meal?

Too often, we allow ourselves to be buried by the anxieties life — and Satan — pummel us with, only turning to God when we need to be bailed out. (As the aphorism suggests, “There are no atheists in foxholes.”) Yet as Christ says, again in Luke’s Gospel, “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious” for “which of you by being anxious can add a cubit to his span of life?”

Indeed, God demonstrated his love for us not because we are good — but that “while we were yet sinners Christ died for us,” as St. Paul writes in his letter to the Romans. With this confidence, through Jesus, we have “obtained access” and peace with God for eternity. Moreover, as St. Paul continues, “we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” God does not promise a life devoid of suffering — only the vigilance to carry on.

Existence itself is a blessing. You are singular — and worth the blood Christ spilled on Calvary two thousand years ago, and the continued offering of himself in the Eucharist at Mass.

This Thanksgiving, let us resolve to not be like the nine who went off into the obscurity of Scriptural history, but the Samaritan who returned, praising God before anything else. God is still working miracles in our daily lives — whether we see them or not. Then again, life itself is the miracle.

Happy Thanksgiving.