Sermon preached by The Reverend Dr. Harold T. Lewis

SERMON PREACHED BY THE REVEREND DR. HAROLD T. LEWIS, RECTOR CALVARY EPISCOPAL CHURCH, PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA ON THE TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST 14 OCTOBER 2007


"Were there not ten cleansed? Where are the nine?" (Luke 17:17)


I don't think I've ever seen a leper, but I remember listening to a monk of the Order of the Holy Cross, who had worked in a leper colony in Liberia. He talked about the symptoms of leprosy, which can include paralysis and muscular atrophy. But it also can result in disfiguration and the discoloring of the skin. Leprosy affects not only the skin, which was often covered with boils and sores, but the nerve endings. In its advanced stages, a person suffering from the disease wouldn't even know his hand was burning in a fire unless he was looking at it.

In Jesus' day, once diagnosed with leprosy, the leper in effect spent his life on death row. Because of an erroneous fear of contagion, the leper was isolated and scorned, unable to work, unable to worship, and, being forced to live outside the city walls, was unable to participate in the life of the community. In today's Gospel, the reason the lepers have to shout to Jesus, "Have mercy on us," is that Mosaic Law demanded that they be at least fifty yards away from people. Lepers only had each other for company, and often were forced to wear special clothing, so people would know they were to be avoided. Sometimes they even wore bells, so that as they walked about, they would warn others of their presence. So the leper's skin disorder wasn't the disease he suffered from most. His major affliction was the prescribed social isolation necessitated by the sickness.

The only leper among the ten who gave thanks probably did so for two good reasons. First, he was a Samaritan, a social leper, to begin with. Samaritans were considered unclean, un-Kosher, and ill-bred. So he was doubly grateful at the chance to be healed. The second reason is that since he was a Samaritan and not a Jew, he couldn't follow Jesus' advice to show himself to the priest, because as a non-Jew, he couldn't even enter the temple. He was forced to show his gratitude to the Jesus, who made it possible for him to be healed in the first place.

From time to time, I have made reference to what I call the Gospel according to Ann Landers. Some members of the American public, whether or not they are churchgoers, often accept the advice given by Ann Landers and her sister, Abigail Van Buren (or whoever actually writes their columns) and take it as Gospel. Interestingly enough, Dear Abby actually made reference to today's Gospel in one of her columns. A letter to her read: Dear Abby: I disagree with the grandmother who stopped giving her children presents because they didn't write thank-you notes. If she wants to know whether they received their presents, she should phone and ask. Jesus was not thanked by nine of the lepers that he healed, but he didn't stop healing. A written thank-you is a waste of time and money. Signed: Midwestern Grandmother.

Abby, showing not a little theological insight, replies: When Jesus healed the ten lepers and only one thanked him, he said, 'There were ten made clean. Where are the other nine?' So Jesus kept track of those who thanked him. Should a Midwestern grandmother do less? Furthermore, I am surprised and dismayed by the number of readers who agreed with you that thanks are not necessary.

Whether Jesus actually keeps track or not, the fact remains that this story is one about gratitude. And in an age when manners and social civilities are on the wane, perhaps one grateful person per every ten is about average! Gratitude, as one French philosopher described it, is "the memory of the heart." If that's true, then many of us suffer from what I will dub cardiac amnesia. We take for granted such things as our health, the gift of our families, or even the privilege of being able to worship week by week. A member of my parish in Washington many years ago used to tell me that she is grateful for being able to get up in the morning, and put one foot in front of the other, because there are many who were not able to do even that!

Today is the day that we launch the Annual Appeal. As opposed to the classic response, "Oh, here we go again; the church is always asking for money!" let's look at this time as a period when we reflect on our gratitude --- what we have to be thankful for, and then decide what would be an appropriate tangible expression of that gratitude, an outward and visible sign. I saw a bumper sticker once which read, "If you love Jesus, tithe. Anybody can honk!"

Stewardship instruction, or should we call it "guidelines for giving" may be difficult. So I thought I'd try a different tack this year, and say a few words about what stewardship is not.

1. Your offering to the church should not ever be referred to as dues. Dues, last I heard, are determined by the organization to which you belong, --- a club or a union, for example, who sends you a bill. They entitle you to certain privileges, like walking through the door of the club (most everything else has a price tag) or in the case of a union, representation before management in the case of a dispute. If you don't wish to belong, or if you think the dues are unreasonable, you don't pay, and you are stricken from the rolls --- no harm, no foul --- except in those cases, of course, where membership is not an option, as when union dues are deducted from your paycheck.
2. Your offering to the church should not be considered fee for service. Rob Stevens told me once that a parishioner in another parish once defended his rather nominal pledge by saying "It pays for the coffee I drink at coffee hour every Sunday." Yes, you could determine what services you receive from the parish.
3. Your offering shouldn't represent a calculation of what you deem to be your "fair share." The problem with such an approach is that it equates our offering with providing maintenance for our buildings and programs --- and it is far more than that.
4. Your offering shouldn't be given to the church just to "keep on the rolls." Some people send a small amount to "maintain their membership" so as to ensure that the church will be available for their funeral. In point of fact, we do not check the pledge records when asked to bury the dead.
5. Your offering should not be given because it is an onerous duty or obligation. Your offering should be an expression of joy. "The Lord loveth a cheerful giver," and so does your parish.

I think it is Master Card that has launched a successful series of commercial spots. They go something like this. A young woman is walking down, say, Walnut Street. She sees a dress in Talbot's window. The announcer says "Very smart basic black cocktail dress, $275." She looks in the jeweler's window. Strand of faux (but who will notice the difference in the dim lighting) pearls to provide just the right accent for the basic black dress --- $60. Dress and pearls in her shopping bag, she goes to TenToes, an upscale emporium for footwear. The announcer says. "Beautiful open-toe black Italian slingbacks to go with smart cocktail dress: $150." . Then she goes to the local spa. "Pedicure to show off toenails in open-toe shoes: $20. Then the announcer says: "Knowing that you will turn heads when you arrive at the party ---- priceless."

There are a lot of things at Calvary that we could put a price tag on. Paying the utilities. Tuning the organ. Mowing the lawn. Providing salaries. But hopefully, when all is said and done, we give because of the priceless things. The fellowship of a warm, loving community who cares for you, especially in time of crisis. The experience of worshipping the Lord in the beauty of holiness. The assurance that your children are being grounded in the faith. The comfort in knowing that we welcome all in the Name of Christ. The pride in knowing that our parish is at the forefront of those striving to maintain the integrity and traditions of the Episcopal Church. The sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life. Priceless!

Consider these priceless entities which come to you because of your faith and then ask what proportion of my income begins to express your gratitude. In a few minutes, Tom Smitherman will talk about the tithe. May I invoke Rob Stevens again? He tells the story of chatting with one of his Wall Street buddies, who, not quite thirty, was pulling down in excess of half a million a year. The topic of tithing came up. When explained, the young man said, incredulously, "You mean I would have to give away $50,000? Rob simply responded, "You mean, you can't live on four hundred and fifty thousand a year?"

Isaac Watts, the great hymnwriter, put it this way: Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were an offering far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all. AMEN. ("When I survey the wondrous cross," Hymnal 1982, 474).