Oblivious to the Obvious
Luke 17:11-19
November 19, 2006, 7:00 p.m.
Harvey Browne Presbyterian Church
Community Thanksgiving Service

It is good to be together with you in worship. Members and friends of our three congregations mix and mingle in a variety of settings throughout the year. From the basketball court to the softball field to the volleyball court… To our united support of significant ministries like St. Matthews Area Ministries and other outreach organizations… But I am glad that we continue to set aside some time each year to worship together. Because we are all on the same team, working for the same God, brothers and sisters in Christ, serving God's people in the same community. And I don't know about the other ministers, but I get a little more anxious than usual when I am preaching in another church. Just as Rutgers discovered two weeks ago in their win over Louisville… And just as they discovered Saturday in their lopsided loss to Cincinnati-There IS such a thing as a "home field" advantage.

This is true for preachers too. I heard about one preacher who was the guest speaker at another church. Things seemed to go fine. After the service the minister stood at the door for the post-service meeting and greeting ritual. People filed by and smiled, shook hands, you know the routine. Then a small boy came by, probably around five years old. He looked up at the preacher and said, "Your sermon stunk!" Then the little fellow bounded away. More folks came through, same routine. Then the little boy appeared again. He stared at the preacher and proclaimed: "You'll never be invited back here again!" About that time a young woman caught sight of the little boy and rushed over to retrieve him. She said, "Oh, Reverend Smith-this is my son, Billy." "Please don't pay any attention to him-he's only five." "You know, he's just at an age where he repeats everything he hears."And so, in case there any little "Billys" running around, I am going to invite you all to help me with tonight's message-so we can all be responsible.

There is a line I want you to memorize. There will be moments when I will cue you to shout out the phrase: "OBLIVIOUS TO THE OBVIOUS." Let's practice it once-"OBLIVIOUS TO THE OBVIOUS." Speaking of obvious, you already know this story. Some of you have heard this passage from Luke since you were knee-high to a horned-toad. You may have even acted it out in Sunday School or Vacation Bible School. Your teacher probably said, "Now class, which of the ten lepers do YOU want to be like?" I know what you're thinking. "Preacher, we don't need a three-point sermon-just give us a three-word sermon-something like "Be More Thankful" or "Count Your Blessings." "And let's go home!" "I've already heard one sermon today." "We've already sung some Thanksgiving hymns this morning." "I'm putting in some spiritual overtime here!" "After all, there are PS3's to buy and football games to follow and 'Desperate Housewives" to watch.'" But that's the trouble with stories like this one-they become so familiar that we become OBLIVIOUS TO THE OBVIOUS.

BUT JUST FOR A FEW MOMENTS, LET'S IMAGINE THAT YOU ARE ONE OF THE LEPERS. You have contracted one of the worst of all diseases. Your future is bleak. First, you will lose a sense of touch. Then will come the loss of hair. Parts of your body will begin to deteriorate. You will never be able to hug your spouse or children again. If you attempt to move around at all, you are required to cry out, "Unclean, unclean!" so everybody can get out of the way… Kind of like the "beep, beep, beep" sound that garbage trucks make when they're backing up. But that's what you are to the rest of society-garbage, unclean, cast out. You find strange consolation in the company you keep. Somehow there is comfort in knowing that there are others who are as bad off or worse than you are. You rely on the offerings from others, sympathy from strangers. Every day you take up your daily vigil beside the road leading from Galilee and Samaria to Jerusalem. You hope for some good fortune, some twist of fate-but the chances are about the same as winning the lottery.

But this day is different. There seems to be some commotion down the road. Words spread like wildfire. Someone shouts out, "It's Jesus and his disciples!" "I've heard about him. "He is a teacher, a healer, one sent by God." And you and your friends are way beyond desperate. You are willing to do anything. You begin to cry out. And your appeal is not just for yourself. You don't cry out, "Jesus, have mercy on me!" You cry out for your friends…and they join you. "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us." And he does. He stops and turns to you and your friends. With a look of love and compassion on his face, he says an odd thing. He doesn't say, "Hello" or "How are you doing?" He doesn't say, "God bless you" or "I'll keep you guys in my prayers." There is no demand for a profession of faith. He says, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." That's odd…but you begin to make the connections. According to the Law, the priests were the ones to pronounce the lepers cured-not the physicians.

Do you dare? Do you dare to do what he says? There is muttering and murmuring among your friends, but somebody takes the first step. Then another. Then another. You begin to stumble along. You can't believe what is happening. There is new strength. The dreaded spots and sores are disappearing. As you all go, you are made clean. You begin to laugh and cheer and slap "high fives" with your friends. And yet, something is wrong-someone is missing. Your Samaritan friend.

"Oh well," you think, "We've gotta get to the Temple." And there he is-your missing friend. "Where have you been?" you ask. His face is radiant. He shares his story. "When I saw I was healed, I couldn't help myself." "I began praising God-and I almost forgot." "I remembered the Rabbi who healed us." "I ran back and fell on my face and gave thanks." "He acted kind of surprised." "And he seemed a little disappointed." "He wondered what happened to the rest of you." "Then he talked to his disciples." "He said something like gratitude cannot be commanded." "And ingratitude does not take away grace." "God remains faithful even when people are not." "God's mercy extends to all people-but not all people recognize God's mercy." "A faithful response is also a grateful response." Then Jesus smiled and said to me: "Your faith, your gratitude, has made you well; it has made you whole." "Rise and go on your way."

I GUESS YOU COULD SAY THAT THE NINE FRIENDS OF THE SAMARITAN WERE OBLIVIOUS TO THE OBVIOUS. But sometimes I wonder? I wonder about the lives of those ten people after they left the Temple? Did the rest of them eventually track Jesus down? Did some of them become disciples? Or did they all just kind of take the healing and run? We don't know-and Luke doesn't tell us. This is all of the story we have. We'd like to think that they all lived a Hallmark-happily-ever-after-existence. But we're left hanging. And the story becomes a mirror, inviting us to see our reflection. The disease of leprosy is almost unheard of.

But what about the other disease-the one that is described in the story? The disease of ingratitude? It is Thanksgiving week. And I don't want to hear about this-especially between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes and tender turkey and pieces of pumpkin pie. But if we have food in the refrigerator, clothes on our back, a roof overhead, and a place to sleep-we are richer than 75% of the folks in this world of ours. If we have money in the bank, cash in our wallet, and spare change in a dish someplace-we are among the top 8% of the Earth's wealthiest people. And I don't want to hear about it-and apparently I am not alone.

I don't know if you read through last Friday's Courier-Journal-but there were numerous stories that caught my attention. Some folks in high places in the government have decided to drop the word "hungry" from the nation's food report. They have come up with new terms, such as "very low food security." There you go-just change the words-that'll make us feel better. That article stood in sharp contrast to an editorial written by Rev. Tim Moseley of the Wayside Christian Mission. Tim described the work of volunteer Skip McMahan. Skip passed away recently, but he devoted his life to feeding the hungry in the community through the mission. Skip would often call the mission and ask, "Are y'all hungry?" Then he'd fill up his van with food and head to the shelter.

Similar articles could be written by Dan Lane of St. Matthews Area Ministries and the surprising number of hungry people on the east side of town. Other articles in that section of the newspaper talked about providing for the needs of other people in our society: A member of Beargrass, Terry Brooks, wrote an article about providing health care for children. Another article invited us to remember Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s dreams as ground is broken for his memorial on the National Mall. An editorial cartoon challenged the use of insider/outsider language such as "inherently disordered persons" by some people in the Church. Sometimes it's just easier for us to be OBLIVIOUS TO THE OBVIOUS. We have been blessed! And rather than becoming cesspools of selfishness, we are called to become flowing streams of God's goodness and grace.

Maya Angelou shares a great story in one of her books. She remembers that when "whiners" would come into her grandmother's store in Arkansas, she would go through a routine that would begin by quietly beckoning Maya to come closer. Then she would bait the "whiner" customer with "How are you doing today, Brother Thomas?" As the complaining gushed forth she would nod or make eye contact with her granddaughter to make sure Maya heard what was being said. As soon as the "whiner" left, her grandmother would ask her to stand in front of her. And then she would say the same thing she had said at least a thousand times. "Sister, did you hear what Brother So-and-So or Sister-Much-to-Do complained about?" "You heard that!" "Sister, there are people who went to sleep all over the world last night, poor and rich and white and black, but they will never wake up again." "Sister, those who expected to rise did not." "And those dead folks would give anything, anything at all for just five minutes of this weather or ten minutes of that working that person was grumbling about." "So you watch yourself about complaining, Sister." "What you're supposed to do when you don't like a thing is change it." "If you can't change it, change the way you think about it."

Friends, Luke, Jesus, the grateful Samaritan, Tim, Skip, and Maya have all reminded us: Don't be OBLIVIOUS TO THE OBVIOUS.