The borderlands are as much a character in the story this week as any of the people. What we make of that is essential.
For Sunday
Proper 23C
Collect
Lord, we pray that your grace may always precede and follow us, that we may continually be given to good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.
Amen.
Reading
From Luke 17:11-19
“But the other nine, where are they?”
Reflection
I went to seminary in Canada at Huron University College, which is a liberal arts college founded as a seminary for the Anglican Church of Canada. It is a fine school, which formed me more than any educational institution would hope to.
For three years I went to a school that was not in my home country, learning the make up of a church that is not my church. Of course, both of these are closely aligned with my own. Far more aligned, then say, a Catholic seminary in Rome or a Charismatic school in Africa. Something akin to ideological cousins.
Not unlike the Hebrew and the Samaritan, I suppose.
Huron is in London, Ontario. Which is about an hour due east of the border with Michigan. I crossed the border many, many times during the mid ’00s. A time, more or less, fractured by the experience of September 11, 2001.
Later on, I spent two and a half years in a small town south of Port Huron, blocks away from the waters which divide the U.S. and Canada. I spent every day gazing at the land on the other side of that river, maybe a mile or two away. Imagining people over there, doing the same. Pondering the same.
In Borderlands
We usually don’t think of Michigan as a borderland. It’s certainly not thought of the way Arizona is. But the experience of living along the border, where the person you run into literally anywhere and anytime could be from “over there” is valuable. Chances of running into Canadians drops off precipitously this side of Indianapolis.
I’m not writing an autobiography here. Just wanting to ground this moment in its most central idea: that they are now navigating the borderlands. The Jesus who told the clever (Hebrew) lawyer that the neighbor he is to love may be a Samaritan is now walking in that very place his fictitious characters were walking and acting (or not).
And now, as we approach this story, of Jesus healing ten people of leprosy, we must be careful of first impressions. Remember the border.
Jesus tells them to go see the priests, and as they do, Jesus heals them. One turns around and thanks him: the Samaritan. I don’t suppose Jesus’s words are a critique of the others here. Just noting what is taking place.
The one who comes from a cousin faith tradition gives thanks to God, but the insiders head off, listening to Jesus. Doing what he commanded. Far more valuable as something notable than condemnable.
Also notable is that Jesus just taught of expecting great rewards for merely meeting expectations. Such is the righteousness of maintaining borders and expecting they are certain to bring clarity.