By Father Casey

One day Jesus was walking down the road and encountered a group of lepers. Lepers were the ultimate outcasts in that era, shunned from town and unable to even be near others. When they went out in public, they were required by law to shout out "unclean, unclean!" so that people could flee their presence. Which meant that the disease not only destroyed their bodies, but their spirits, too.

When Jesus ran into them, they didn't approach him or reach out to touch him, as so many others did. They stood far off and simply cried for mercy. And mercy is just what he showed them. He directed them to make their way to town to see the priests – a scandalous instruction, when you remember the rules – and as they went, they discovered their disease was gone. It was a physical healing that opened the way for their souls to be healed, too.

This miracle was no reward for past accomplishments, nor some sort of a prize that they had earned. As far as we know, Jesus didn't know them, didn't ask them any questions, didn't require some sort of confession or penance. It was grace, pure and simple. An act of love, a gift of mercy. Jesus gave them what they could not give themselves, and changed their lives forever. This is what Jesus does best: grace.

If the story ended there, it would be another fantastic example of the sort of Savior we follow. Grace-filled and grace-focused. Willing to give far more than we desire or deserve. But it's not where the story finishes, because unlike fairy tales, life does not suddenly stop at our mountaintops moments of grace. Life continues and enters that uncertain territory of what we will choose to do with what we have received.

No doubt the whole group of lepers felt enormously grateful. After all, they could re-enter society, touch and be touched, love and be loved. I'm sure they were all filled with gratitude, but the story says only one of them turned around to give thanks. Only one received this heavenly dose of grace and honored the one from whom it came. As a result, he was the only one to move from shouting distance to Christ to actually being in Christ's presence. They all received grace, but only he – through an act of thanksgiving – met the source of all grace face-to-face.

Have you ever felt like you were stuck out there at shouting distance with those lepers? You're not sure how, or why, or when it happened, but you feel like there's a distance between you and God's intimate presence. You feel like you have to shout and wave to get God's attention. Maybe you even have a lot to be grateful for—health, family, financial stability – and still you feel that distance.

If this sounds familiar, perhaps the tenth leper could be your guide and mentor. Perhaps what we're lacking isn't grace – God's love and care and devoted interest in us. Perhaps what we need to do is respond to grace by showing our thanks. The grace is ours, either way. "From [Christ's] fullness we have all received grace upon grace," the gospel of John says (1:16). But what we do with that grace – whether we choose to respond to it with thanksgiving; whether we allow it to draw us closer to Christ – that's up to us.

Nine lepers walked away that day carrying the gift of grace, but only one met the giver. Nine went away healed, but only one went away whole.

Fr. Casey +