Sermon on luke 17:11-19 | October 12th, 2025
Written and read by Pastor Elise Scott - Ballard First Lutheran Church
As you know, this morning we are celebrating our Annual Blessing of the Pets. We’re slightly belated on this celebration as it usually concurs with St. Francis of Assisi’s Feast Day, which was October 4th. As a result, when I chose this Sunday as the day for the Blessing of the Pets, I was a little worried about how I would connect it to our texts, but I needn’t have feared. As it turns out, the texts for today couldn’t be more perfectly aligned for the Blessing of the Pets and a celebration of St. Francis.
Traditionally, St. Francis of Assisi’s Feast Day goes along with the Blessing of the Pets because of St. Francis’ love for all creation. As you probably know, he’s famous for his writings on creation and for the ways in which he interacted with creation during his life.
One of the most famous stories about St. Francis is the story of the wolf of Gubbio. A wolf in the town was terrorizing the people and so St. Francis came in and mediated with the wolf - striking a deal with him. The wolf would be fed daily by the townspeople if the wolf, in turn, agreed to let the town’s people live peacefully with him. And the deal worked - the wolf lived peaceably with the people of Gubbio for the rest of its life. It’s no wonder then, that we associate St. Francis with creation and thus, celebrate him along with the Blessing of the Pets each year.
But, there’s another story about St. Francis that aligns almost perfectly with today’s texts and it’s the story of St. Francis and the leper.
According to legend, St. Francis was terrified by lepers - so much so that historians and experts on St. Francis described St. Francis’ attitude towards lepers as a “fear and abhorrence of lepers.” Others write that he “was repulsed by lepers and shunned people suffering from such a disease.” And in St. Francis’ own words, he writes, “…when I was in sin, it seemed too bitter for me to see lepers.”
His fear of lepers caused him to avoid the lepers who lived in the leper colony a couple of miles away from Assisi at all costs. Yet, one day Francis was forced to confront this fear and the confrontation of this fear was transformative for him.
According to the story, Francis was riding his horse near Assisi when he came upon a leper. Although his instinct was to avoid the leper, St. Francis was pulled to ride directly towards him. Some stories relay that he rode directly towards the leper because he felt God was calling him too, others say that the road was so narrow that there was really no way past the leper except to get close to the leper. But, one way or another, Francis found himself in direct contact with the leper … which I assume was a bit uncommon - for just as in the story we hear today in the Gospel of Luke, lepers at the time of St. Francis were still banished away from their communities, forced to live together on the outskirts of town - presumably so that there were minimal run-ins with others.
But, regardless, Francis on this particular day had no choice but to come near to the leper. And a surprising thing occurred when he did. Instead of simply riding past with a nod of his head, St. Francis felt compelled to get off his horse and approach the leper directly - going so far as embracing the leper and offering the leper a kiss.
Interestingly, the legend states that following the embrace and kiss, Francis briefly offered the leper alms and then, immediately remounted his horse. But, when he did this, the leper was no longer before him; the leper was nowhere to be seen.
It was in that moment that St. Francis realized that the man who had stood before him with leprosy was actually Christ Jesus. And in this realization, Francis was completely transformed.
He writes, “The Lord gave me, Brother Francis, thus to begin doing penance in this way: for when I was in sin, it seemed too bitter for me to see lepers. And the Lord Himself led me among them and I showed mercy to them. And when I left them, what had seemed bitter to me was turned into sweetness of soul and body.”
Of course, this story of St. Francis varies slightly from the story we hear in our Gospel text this morning of Jesus and the 10 lepers. And yet, in both stories, there is an encounter with Jesus - an encounter that profoundly transforms the lives of those whom encounter Christ.
In the story of St. Francis, it is not the leper who encounters Christ, but St. Francis himself who encounters Christ through the leper.
In our Gospel text, it is the 10 lepers who encounter Christ.
In both stories, the lepers are banished. Scholars discuss the circumstances of lepers in the time of Luke as pretty bleak. Like in Francis of Assisi’s time, they were banished to the outskirts of town … So much so, that the land where this morning’s story takes place is referred to as a no man’s land - a land betwixt and between Samaria and Galilee. It is a place where others are afraid to come, a place of extreme isolation and loneliness.
And, because of this, it is also a place of great social equalization - for because lepers were outcast no matter their background, it didn’t matter whether they were a Samaritan or an Israelite, whether they were rich or poor. Regardless of their background, they were shunned, cast out. Regardless of their background, they were all required to cry out as others approached them on the road to ensure that those whom they encountered kept their distance, that those whom they encountered managed to stay clean.
And so, as Jesus approaches in today’s story, the lepers do as they’re supposed to do and they cry out. But, they cry out something different than usual. Perhaps they had heard of Jesus’ healing powers; perhaps the stories of Jesus had reached them even in their isolated community in no-man’s land. For instead of simply crying out to let Jesus know they were there and for him to keep his distance, they instead cry out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
I wonder what they meant with this cry to Jesus. Was it a direct plea for healing? If it was, why didn’t they cry out, “Heal us, O Lord? Or, was it a plea that Jesus might simply recognize their humanity? That he might show them mercy by acknowledging them, by seeing them? For, in a world in which they were seemingly invisible, this simple nod to their humanity would have offered them profound mercy and grace - restoring a little hope in them, reminding them that despite the ways in which they were ostracized, that God still saw them, that God still loved them as God’s own beloved children.
Of course, there’s no way for us to know exactly what the 10 lepers in today’s story expected as they cried out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
What we do know is that Jesus indeed showed them mercy - perhaps more mercy than they were expecting, perhaps more mercy than they felt like they deserved. Without missing a beat, Jesus responds, saying, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.”
Again, I wonder what went through the lepers minds at this point. Did they think to themselves that Jesus was crazy - what was he thinking - sending them to the priests who were just going to tell them how unclean they were, how impure? Did they think they would actually be made clean as they went? Did they truly think that Jesus would heal them as they went along the way to the priest?
And, once again, we have no answers to these questions … Though, we are told that they must have noticed at some point along the way that they’d been healed, that once they showed themselves to the priests, they would once again be made clean, they would once again be restored to their community. They would no longer be forced to live betwixt and between, in isolation in no-man’s land.
And, we know this because one of the 10 lepers notices that he’s healed and he’s so moved by his healing that he disregards Jesus’ instructions to go and show himself to the priest. Instead, he immediately turns back and begins praising God with a loud voice. He prostrates himself at Jesus’ feet, thanking him.
We’re told at this point that this leper faced what a couple of commentators called a “double whammy” of marginalization. Perhaps, it is precisely because he faced marginalization on so many various levels that this leper feels compelled to return to Jesus and offer his thanks and gratitude. Perhaps, he feels as though showing himself to the priest will not restore him to community in the same way as the others - and yet, nonetheless, he’s thankful; so thankful, in fact, that his cup overflows; so thankful that he has no choice but to return to Jesus in his gratitude.
Jesus, in true Jesus fashion, uses this as an opportunity to point us yet again to inclusiveness. Jesus doesn’t miss the opportunity to point out that the one who has returned is himself a foreigner.
And, Jesus responds to this leper returning - this leper who faces a double whammy of marginalization - by offering him one additional blessing - declaring to the Samaritan leper, to get up and go on his way. For Jesus declares that the Samaritan’s faith has made him well.
Various scholars latch onto this, pointing out that while the others have been healed, it is the Samaritan who returns to Jesus who is not only healed, but made well, made whole. They contend that in failing to return to Jesus, the other lepers are healed in body, but not in spirit - that the various false constraints and labels of the world still bind them; but, the Samaritan, well the Samaritan, in his return to Jesus is made free.
And, to me, this is a powerful take on this story - especially in light of the story of St. Francis’ own encounter of Jesus in his encounter with the leper.
What these stories promise us is that when we encounter Christ, we never remain the same. When we encounter Christ, we are overwhelmed with gratitude. When we encounter Christ, we are transformed. When we encounter Christ, we’re not only healed, but we’re made whole. When we encounter Christ, we no longer see the other that lies before us, but, instead, we see a beloved child of God - worthy of our love and respect, just as we’re worthy of theirs.
In this divisive world in which we live - in a world which seems to be rotting from the inside out in the ways in which we fail to see each other as the beloved children of God that we are, the hope of today’s stories is that Christ still walks amongst us; that we still encounter Jesus along the road, just as the lepers did, just as St. Francis did when he embraced and kissed the leper. And in these encounters, we still get to cry out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
The mercy that we find may not be the mercy we expect. It may look like kissing a leper or being healed in ways we couldn’t even imagine.
But, knowing this we’re beckoned to ponder…
Where is Jesus’ mercy leading us? How will Jesus’ mercy heal us? In what ways, will Jesus’ mercy transform us? And, perhaps most importantly - will we even notice? Will we be like the 9 who disappear with their healing, never to be heard from again or will be like the 1 - the Samaritan - will we return to Jesus, overwhelmed with gratitude, praising and worshiping our Lord? Amen.
As you know, this morning we are celebrating our Annual Blessing of the Pets. We’re slightly belated on this celebration as it usually concurs with St. Francis of Assisi’s Feast Day, which was October 4th. As a result, when I chose this Sunday as the day for the Blessing of the Pets, I was a little worried about how I would connect it to our texts, but I needn’t have feared. As it turns out, the texts for today couldn’t be more perfectly aligned for the Blessing of the Pets and a celebration of St. Francis.
Traditionally, St. Francis of Assisi’s Feast Day goes along with the Blessing of the Pets because of St. Francis’ love for all creation. As you probably know, he’s famous for his writings on creation and for the ways in which he interacted with creation during his life.
One of the most famous stories about St. Francis is the story of the wolf of Gubbio. A wolf in the town was terrorizing the people and so St. Francis came in and mediated with the wolf - striking a deal with him. The wolf would be fed daily by the townspeople if the wolf, in turn, agreed to let the town’s people live peacefully with him. And the deal worked - the wolf lived peaceably with the people of Gubbio for the rest of its life. It’s no wonder then, that we associate St. Francis with creation and thus, celebrate him along with the Blessing of the Pets each year.
But, there’s another story about St. Francis that aligns almost perfectly with today’s texts and it’s the story of St. Francis and the leper.
According to legend, St. Francis was terrified by lepers - so much so that historians and experts on St. Francis described St. Francis’ attitude towards lepers as a “fear and abhorrence of lepers.” Others write that he “was repulsed by lepers and shunned people suffering from such a disease.” And in St. Francis’ own words, he writes, “…when I was in sin, it seemed too bitter for me to see lepers.”
His fear of lepers caused him to avoid the lepers who lived in the leper colony a couple of miles away from Assisi at all costs. Yet, one day Francis was forced to confront this fear and the confrontation of this fear was transformative for him.
According to the story, Francis was riding his horse near Assisi when he came upon a leper. Although his instinct was to avoid the leper, St. Francis was pulled to ride directly towards him. Some stories relay that he rode directly towards the leper because he felt God was calling him too, others say that the road was so narrow that there was really no way past the leper except to get close to the leper. But, one way or another, Francis found himself in direct contact with the leper … which I assume was a bit uncommon - for just as in the story we hear today in the Gospel of Luke, lepers at the time of St. Francis were still banished away from their communities, forced to live together on the outskirts of town - presumably so that there were minimal run-ins with others.
But, regardless, Francis on this particular day had no choice but to come near to the leper. And a surprising thing occurred when he did. Instead of simply riding past with a nod of his head, St. Francis felt compelled to get off his horse and approach the leper directly - going so far as embracing the leper and offering the leper a kiss.
Interestingly, the legend states that following the embrace and kiss, Francis briefly offered the leper alms and then, immediately remounted his horse. But, when he did this, the leper was no longer before him; the leper was nowhere to be seen.
It was in that moment that St. Francis realized that the man who had stood before him with leprosy was actually Christ Jesus. And in this realization, Francis was completely transformed.
He writes, “The Lord gave me, Brother Francis, thus to begin doing penance in this way: for when I was in sin, it seemed too bitter for me to see lepers. And the Lord Himself led me among them and I showed mercy to them. And when I left them, what had seemed bitter to me was turned into sweetness of soul and body.”
Of course, this story of St. Francis varies slightly from the story we hear in our Gospel text this morning of Jesus and the 10 lepers. And yet, in both stories, there is an encounter with Jesus - an encounter that profoundly transforms the lives of those whom encounter Christ.
In the story of St. Francis, it is not the leper who encounters Christ, but St. Francis himself who encounters Christ through the leper.
In our Gospel text, it is the 10 lepers who encounter Christ.
In both stories, the lepers are banished. Scholars discuss the circumstances of lepers in the time of Luke as pretty bleak. Like in Francis of Assisi’s time, they were banished to the outskirts of town … So much so, that the land where this morning’s story takes place is referred to as a no man’s land - a land betwixt and between Samaria and Galilee. It is a place where others are afraid to come, a place of extreme isolation and loneliness.
And, because of this, it is also a place of great social equalization - for because lepers were outcast no matter their background, it didn’t matter whether they were a Samaritan or an Israelite, whether they were rich or poor. Regardless of their background, they were shunned, cast out. Regardless of their background, they were all required to cry out as others approached them on the road to ensure that those whom they encountered kept their distance, that those whom they encountered managed to stay clean.
And so, as Jesus approaches in today’s story, the lepers do as they’re supposed to do and they cry out. But, they cry out something different than usual. Perhaps they had heard of Jesus’ healing powers; perhaps the stories of Jesus had reached them even in their isolated community in no-man’s land. For instead of simply crying out to let Jesus know they were there and for him to keep his distance, they instead cry out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
I wonder what they meant with this cry to Jesus. Was it a direct plea for healing? If it was, why didn’t they cry out, “Heal us, O Lord? Or, was it a plea that Jesus might simply recognize their humanity? That he might show them mercy by acknowledging them, by seeing them? For, in a world in which they were seemingly invisible, this simple nod to their humanity would have offered them profound mercy and grace - restoring a little hope in them, reminding them that despite the ways in which they were ostracized, that God still saw them, that God still loved them as God’s own beloved children.
Of course, there’s no way for us to know exactly what the 10 lepers in today’s story expected as they cried out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
What we do know is that Jesus indeed showed them mercy - perhaps more mercy than they were expecting, perhaps more mercy than they felt like they deserved. Without missing a beat, Jesus responds, saying, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.”
Again, I wonder what went through the lepers minds at this point. Did they think to themselves that Jesus was crazy - what was he thinking - sending them to the priests who were just going to tell them how unclean they were, how impure? Did they think they would actually be made clean as they went? Did they truly think that Jesus would heal them as they went along the way to the priest?
And, once again, we have no answers to these questions … Though, we are told that they must have noticed at some point along the way that they’d been healed, that once they showed themselves to the priests, they would once again be made clean, they would once again be restored to their community. They would no longer be forced to live betwixt and between, in isolation in no-man’s land.
And, we know this because one of the 10 lepers notices that he’s healed and he’s so moved by his healing that he disregards Jesus’ instructions to go and show himself to the priest. Instead, he immediately turns back and begins praising God with a loud voice. He prostrates himself at Jesus’ feet, thanking him.
We’re told at this point that this leper faced what a couple of commentators called a “double whammy” of marginalization. Perhaps, it is precisely because he faced marginalization on so many various levels that this leper feels compelled to return to Jesus and offer his thanks and gratitude. Perhaps, he feels as though showing himself to the priest will not restore him to community in the same way as the others - and yet, nonetheless, he’s thankful; so thankful, in fact, that his cup overflows; so thankful that he has no choice but to return to Jesus in his gratitude.
Jesus, in true Jesus fashion, uses this as an opportunity to point us yet again to inclusiveness. Jesus doesn’t miss the opportunity to point out that the one who has returned is himself a foreigner.
And, Jesus responds to this leper returning - this leper who faces a double whammy of marginalization - by offering him one additional blessing - declaring to the Samaritan leper, to get up and go on his way. For Jesus declares that the Samaritan’s faith has made him well.
Various scholars latch onto this, pointing out that while the others have been healed, it is the Samaritan who returns to Jesus who is not only healed, but made well, made whole. They contend that in failing to return to Jesus, the other lepers are healed in body, but not in spirit - that the various false constraints and labels of the world still bind them; but, the Samaritan, well the Samaritan, in his return to Jesus is made free.
And, to me, this is a powerful take on this story - especially in light of the story of St. Francis’ own encounter of Jesus in his encounter with the leper.
What these stories promise us is that when we encounter Christ, we never remain the same. When we encounter Christ, we are overwhelmed with gratitude. When we encounter Christ, we are transformed. When we encounter Christ, we’re not only healed, but we’re made whole. When we encounter Christ, we no longer see the other that lies before us, but, instead, we see a beloved child of God - worthy of our love and respect, just as we’re worthy of theirs.
In this divisive world in which we live - in a world which seems to be rotting from the inside out in the ways in which we fail to see each other as the beloved children of God that we are, the hope of today’s stories is that Christ still walks amongst us; that we still encounter Jesus along the road, just as the lepers did, just as St. Francis did when he embraced and kissed the leper. And in these encounters, we still get to cry out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
The mercy that we find may not be the mercy we expect. It may look like kissing a leper or being healed in ways we couldn’t even imagine.
But, knowing this we’re beckoned to ponder…
Where is Jesus’ mercy leading us? How will Jesus’ mercy heal us? In what ways, will Jesus’ mercy transform us? And, perhaps most importantly - will we even notice? Will we be like the 9 who disappear with their healing, never to be heard from again or will be like the 1 - the Samaritan - will we return to Jesus, overwhelmed with gratitude, praising and worshiping our Lord? Amen.
