I experienced a moment of serendipity last week when I found myself confronted with the possibility of joy. It popped up in my morning devotions, where I was reminded of the small, nearly intangible ways we can experience joy. A little later I ran into a friend while out walking and she told me about a book she is reading called, coincidentally, Living Joyously. She said that developing the practice of joyfulness is helping her to persevere through difficult things.
Later I was in a group discussion where, again, the topic of joy was raised – but there was some pushback. One of the participants divulged that he rarely experiences joy and doesn’t think he knows how to practice joyful living. Another said we should be careful about not having too much joy, lest it be at the expense of taking the grave matters of life seriously.
Reflecting on that discussion, I felt sympathy for the one who doesn’t know how to find joy. And I have some understanding of the position that we should take seriously the very serious things in the world that need our attention. But I do not believe joy will hinder that. And, quite honestly, I cannot see how it is possible to have too much joy.
Joy is a peculiar emotion. We often think of it as essentially the same thing as happiness, but it’s not quite the same. Joy is something that wells up from someplace deep inside of us. Therefore, it doesn’t require something outside of ourselves to make it happen.
Although, there are times when joy is a direct result of something wonderful happening. When I looked at the morning news and saw that the Cubs beat the Brewers and so lived to play another day, I felt joyful. But at the same time I am aware this is a joy that can be taken away too easily. As it was when they lost the next game.
I have occasionally visited congregations where the atmosphere was highly charged with what seemed to me like a forced cheerfulness. And while a forced happiness can be contagious, spreading good cheer to others, it may lack a foundation of joy to sustain it.
Because joy isn’t forced. It isn’t summoned on demand. Joy isn’t necessarily directly tied to external circumstances. Joy is a fruit of the Spirit, according to Paul’s letter to the Galatians. Joy is a gift.
The gospel story we hear today doesn’t speak directly to the subject of joy, but I see joy in it.
Jesus is passing through a region between Galilee and Samaria, on his way to Jerusalem. We are told that some people at that time would take a longer route from Galilee to Jerusalem in order to avoid passing through Samaria – but not Jesus. He did not seem to have that sense of distaste or distrust for Samaritans.
So here he is now, in a sort of “no man’s land” – somewhere between a land of Jews and a land of Samaritans. This is the sort of place, actually, where one might expect to find people afflicted with leprosy.
Most of the older translations call these men lepers but some of the newest versions describe them as having a skin disease. I assume this change was made because the term leprosy was used back then to cover a whole host of skin ailments. Not everything that was called leprosy was actually leprosy. True leprosy was and is an awful disease. It was the fear of leprosy, and an abundance of caution, that motivated this response to the appearance of any skin disease.
Leprosy is caused by bacteria. It begins with skin discoloration, and eventually, if untreated, can lead to nerve damage and severe physical deformities. The fear of contagion was real, and so anyone assumed to be afflicted with leprosy was banished from the community. They were required to wear bells that would announce their presence, and call out “unclean, unclean” just in case anyone came near to them.
If a person with leprosy was somehow cured of the disease, they had to be certified clean by a priest before they could be admitted back into their community.
The social isolation of leprosy had to be painful, adding to their misery. The sense of not being quite human, which they might have felt due to the physical effects of the disease, was made worse by being shunned by their community.
They probably did not have much joy in their lives. They did not have much to feel thankful about.
But they still, evidently, had hope. Because when they saw Jesus, they came as near as they dared and cried out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
He saw them and merely said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” They turned to leave, following his instruction, and they were made clean. And I don’t think it was a coincidence.
Neither did one of these men, for he stopped, turned back, and returned to Jesus, praising God with a loud voice all the way.
And this man was a Samaritan.
And in this we see that there are not parameters on the healing power of God. Even a despised Samaritan can be touched by God’s grace. This is good news. But there is another message as well, about thankfulness.
Lest we oversimplify, I want to be sure to say that it’s about more than good manners. Yes, it is always good to remember to say thank you – to your family and friends, to a stranger who holds a door for you or a server who refills your water glass. Good manners are a kind of social lubricant, helping to smooth our way in the world. But saying thank you to God is something different.
A prayer of thanks is necessary for a healthy spiritual life. This is not because God needs it. It is because we need it. A practice of gratitude is good medicine. It can keep us healthy and happy. It keeps us close to God.
There were ten men who were cured of their skin disease as they followed Jesus’ direction to go and show themselves to the priests. Whether their action, going to the priest, was due to faith or just a habit of obedience, I do not know. Whether they all were aware in the moment that they were cured, or too preoccupied with moving from one place to another, I do not know. I only know that there was one man who did take notice. And this man immediately knew that he had been cured by the power of God working through Jesus. And he immediately returned to the source of his healing.
This one man, who happened to be a Samaritan, sought out the nearness of Jesus. He fell to the ground before Jesus and thanked him.
Jesus said to him, “Your faith has made you well.” It is important here for us to pay attention to the words. Earlier on, the ten men were made clean, that is, they were cured of the skin disease, which was truly a miracle. But as far as we know, only the one who returned to Jesus, praising God and giving thanks, was made well. All were made clean, but only one was made well.
The Greek word that is translated as “made well” is sozo, a word that is often translated as “saved.” Sozo is a healing of a whole different magnitude. It wasn’t just his skin that was cleared up; the wellness penetrated deep into his soul.
This kind of healing happened for him when he returned to Jesus giving thanks and praise. This wholeness was made possible through a deeper relationship with Jesus. And that is our link today to prayer.
In this world we live in, there is a great danger of treating God like someone or something to be manipulated. A drop box where we put our suggestions, complaints, or requests. We say, “please, please, please,” and then, when we get what we want we go on happily for another day, until the next time we are driven to ask for something we need.
While we are assured that we may ask for whatever we need, this habit of treating God like Siri or Alexa, those names you can call out to your phone or speaker system and ask for anything – such an attitude toward God fails to comprehend the extraordinary things God offers us.
God offers the kind of healing, a wholeness, that we cannot find in anything else on earth. God offers us things that last; we only need to enter into a relationship through prayer to find those things. Beginning with prayers of gratitude, which acknowledge the source of all good gifts.
For this reason, gratitude and joy go hand in hand.
That day last week when the word joy became threaded through my hours, I thought a lot about joy as a kind of salve. There is a lot of anxiety in our world at this time. Sometimes I feel like it’s in the water, an invisible toxin that we are all imbibing it, not even knowing it. Only finding eventually the effects it has on us. We are living in a time that requires resilience of us, in the face of all kinds of challenges, sorrows, and fears. Somehow, we all need to find resilience.
The most resilient people among us, I believe, have access to deep reservoirs of joy, from which they can draw in times of need. But you will be hard pressed to find this joy, unless you cultivate a life of thanksgiving to God.
Jesus told this one thankful Samaritan, “Your faith has made you well.” And we know from this that the wellness he is receiving will have lasting consequences; that this moment right now is only the beginning. We may have this too.
Let us cultivate a prayerful practice of gratitude, and fill our wells with joy to see us through to the end.
Photo by Rory McKeever on Unsplash
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