God Rejects No One

Rembrandt,
Christ Healing a Leper,
c. 1657-60,
Rijksprentenkabinet, Amsterdam.

The Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Today’s Readings: Lev. 13: 1–2, 44–46; Ps. 32; 1 Cor. 10: 31 – 11: 1; Mk. 1: 40–45

I felt troubled this week as I sat and prayed with today’s Bible readings. I had a strong mental image of the poor person with leprosy being examined by the priest, declared to be unclean, and then ejected from the community—maybe for life. To my ears, the language of the Book of Leviticus seems so harsh:

The one who bears the sore of leprosy shall keep his garments rent and his head bare, and shall muffle his beard; he shall cry out, “Unclean, unclean!” As long as the sore is on him he shall declare himself unclean, since he is in fact unclean. He shall dwell apart, making his abode outside the camp.

How can our God—whom John keeps telling us “is love”—treat one of his own creatures, his own children—this way? And somehow, when Jesus came, things seemed to be different, didn’t they? Christ didn’t shun the leper. On the contrary! He embraced him—figuratively and literally—and cured him. That’s how we want to picture our loving and merciful God.

But then, curiously, Jesus told the man to go show himself to the priest to be pronounced ritually clean again. In other words, somehow the words of Leviticus still seemed to apply. What are we to make of all this?

We must begin by recognizing a very important principle: God is not harsh, and he rejects no one. Rather, God is inclusive and loving and embracing.

It is a very serious error to think that certain people are bad, or cursed, or punished, or somehow unworthy of God’s love. Yet we folks who call ourselves Christians make this kind of judgment all the time—usually out of fear!

Think about it. When we are afraid, we often respond by condemning. In biblical days, lepers were walking cesspools of contagion. How afraid would you be that you or your children might contract that dread disease? Is God humoring us by playing into our fear and telling the lepers to get lost? Not likely. Yet perhaps we might be tempted to read the law this way.

In our modern world, we’re still afraid of some people, so we continue to use God’s law as a tool to reject people or put them down. That, my friends, is not only wrong, but it’s a terrible sin.

Do you remember when the news of the AIDS pandemic first broke about 20 years ago? Everyone was petrified. We didn’t want kids with AIDS in the classroom or grown-ups with AIDS waiting on tables. Over time, though, we learned that the AIDS virus isn’t transmitted by touch or even by a kiss. Yet some people are still afraid and would be happier if AIDS victims simply went away.

Some of us are afraid of people who are crushed by addictions: drug abusers and alcoholics and priests or school-teachers with sexual dysfunctions who molest children. Maybe we’re outraged, too. Of course we don’t want our children lured into dangerous or abusive situations. Yet what is our fear doing to us? Are we learning to hate and condemn?

Some of us are afraid of people of certain races. In the old days, lots of white people were scared of black people. Today, the prejudice of choice is against Arabs or Muslims. Some people think they’re all real or potential terrorists.

And these days, a lot of folks are scared to death of sexual minorities. We’re sure they sit up late at night thinking of ways to infect our children, destroy marriage and society, and threaten our way of life. Maybe you think that God wants them to muffle their beards and cry out “unclean, unclean!” when they walk down the street.

But no. I repeat: God rejects no one. He loves and embraces all of us. And thank God for that… because I promise you, each and every one of us has something in us that makes us worthy of condemnation by somebody else!

The leper in the gospel came to Jesus and said, “If you wish, you can make me clean.” Christ was moved and healed him. “I do will it. Be made clean.”

In other gospel stories, we hear that some people come to the Lord on behalf of a friend or family member:

“My little girl is dying. Please come help her.”

“My servant is home sick in bed. Don’t trouble yourself to come. Just say the word and he’ll be healed.”

“His friends lowered the paralytic on his mat through the roof and Jesus cured him.”

And of course, we hear evidence of so many who have also had their hearts changed so they no longer hate, but love:

Saul turned from being a vigilante into the apostle Paul.

Matthew once was a tax collector—a crook and a leech—and he became an evangelist for Christ, a holy man and ultimately a martyr.

I think the gospel today reminds us that we mustn’t jump to conclusions about what God has in his mind until we see Jesus’ teaching in context. Leviticus seems harsh, the work of a cruel god… until Jesus clarifies that every cross in life is meant to make us remember our dependence on God and is meant to make us love more. The lesson is not at all to push people away or marginalize them. Rather, we’ve got to learn that we need God to take away our fears and infirmities and the fears and infirmities of our loved ones, our friends, our enemies, and even the people we don’t understand or who scare us or threaten us. That’s the point of the Psalm: I turn to you, Lord, in time of trouble, and you fill me with the joy of salvation.

If you think that there are certain people or lifestyles that the Church denounces as evil, I gently urge you to keep reflecting on today’s powerful lesson. We must pray for ourselves and each other—and let absolutely nothing separate us from the love of God.