“Seeing in the Shadows” (Luke 17:11-19)

I believe that God calls us to be the best version of who we are created to be . . . which, of course, if we are to believe the scriptures, would be the image of God.  As followers of Jesus, we have him as a model . . . he shows us the way.  His way, again according to his words is to love the Lord with all our being and to love others as we have been loved by the Lord.  The journey through life is a journey of fulfilment of becoming who God created us to be.

In the existence of humanity . . . since its beginning . . . the goal of being human is to reach one’s full potential and thrive.  In 1943, psychologist Abraham Maslow developed a “hierarchy of needs” to explain the five levels every human being must progress through to come to what he called “self-actualization”.  Defined, “self-actualization” is coming into the morality, creativity, spontaneity, acceptance, purpose, and meaning of who one is . . . of becoming who God created that person to be. 

 

In Maslow’s “hierarchy of needs” there are five basic needs.  These are diagrammed in the shape of a triangle with the most basic need at the base and the higher needs towards the top at the apex of the triangle.  At the foundation is “physiological needs” like food, shelter, and clothing—the physical necessities.  Going up to the apex of the triangle “safety and security” is the next need.  Third is “love and belonging”.  This is defined by “friendships, family, intimacy, and a sense of connection—of belonging”.  Fourth is “self-esteem” which is the “confidence that comes from others acknowledging the uniqueness of the other”.  And, lastly, is “self-actualization”—the coming in and acceptance of who one has been created to be as a child of God.  According to Maslow and decades of research to back it up, if any of the lower needs are not achieved then the final goal of being who one is cannot be accomplished.

 

Simply put . . . all of us . . . all humans . . . desired to be seen, acknowledged, accepted, and loved for who God created us to be.  None of us desires to be left out.

 

At the Yellowstone Art Museum there is a new exhibit by Billings artist Jane Waggoner Deschner titled Remember Me.  The display looks like a well-lived in room filled with all sorts of things of every day life . . . souvenirs, mementos, photographs, memories.   Central to the display are the photographs—portraits of hundreds of people.  The display is supposed to feel like a domestic place . . . a place where one feels comfortable like one’s own living room. 

 

On each of the photographs the artist has stitched statements that she has taken from thousands of obituaries about people.  Phrases about the deceased and who they were.  Remember that obituaries are not about death but life.  They document the living, preserve it so it never fully leaves.

In its totality the display is about the mementos of life.  They are evidence that these people once existed, right here in the same world that we all inhabit.  The goal of the exhibition is to remember . . . to acknowledge.  After all, we all want to be loved, acknowledged, and ultimately remembered.  That is God’s desire for creation, and we are all a part of that creation.

 

Which brings us to our scripture reading this morning.  Jesus has begun his journey to Jerusalem with the disciples.  They are on the road between Samaria and Galilee.  As they are going into a village, they are approached by ten men afflicted with leprosy.  From a distance they plea to Jesus to “have pity” on them.  Basically, they are asking to be healed.  With a simple phrase Jesus sends them on their way and they are “cleansed”.  They are to present themselves to the priests to be acknowledged as being healed and it is on that walk to the priests that they are healed.  Afterwards only one returns to thank Jesus—a Samaritan.

 

This little story has a lot of interesting nuances.  As one reads or hears the story there is a supple hint of God’s grace at work.  I’m not sure if the writer of the Gospel of Luke knew what he was doing, but he makes a major shift in understanding . . . especially understanding people.  In verse 12 the writer writes: “As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him.”

 

Did you hear it?

 

It was the phrase “. . . ten men who had leprosy . . .”  The writer did not say “ten lepers”.  No, the writer said, “men who had leprosy”.  With this simple phrase the writer shifts how these ten men are recognized and understood.  Here the writer acknowledges that they are human beings . . . uniquely created by God as individuals.  The writer does not define them by their affliction . . . they are not solely lepers.  They are people who happened to have leprosy.  They have names . . . families . . . stories . . . they are children of God.  They are acknowledged for who they are.

 

Too often in life those who are not deemed acceptable, or worthy are shoved to the darkness . . . shoved out of sight.  Those who are different . . . those with disabilities, the poor, the uneducated, of different races, genders, and religions.  Out of sight, out of mind.  And yet, they too, are children of God created in God’s own image.  As much as they are shoved into the darkness, they constantly stand in the shadows longing to be seen . . . to be accepted . . . to be loved . . . to be welcomed to their place at the table of God.  As we read and hear this story, we see the writer moving in this direction of seeing God’s children in the shadows.

 

Another supple movement we come across is the acknowledgement of the ten as “acceptable and welcomed”.  The ten are sent to the priests where their healing will be confirmed . . . where they will be presented to the community as healed and whole to be welcomed back into the community.  It is here that they are acknowledged and remembered.  It is here that they are getting the necessary needs being met towards being who God created them to be.  They have been invited out of the shadows.  They have discovered “love and belonging” as declared by the priests.  This builds their self-esteem.  It gives them the courage to make the journey towards discovering and living who God created them to be.

 

But they don’t all succeed. 

 

Only one—a Samaritan—succeeds.  The other nine fail.  How is this possible, you ask?  Because only one recognizes the gift and the need to acknowledge the one who shared it . . . the one who made it all possible.  The one, a Samaritan, has come the farthest out of the shadows.  Not only was he a person afflicted with leprosy, but he was also a Samaritan.  Samaritans were not well received by the Jews due to many differences of opinion over the understanding and practice of their faith.  Thus, they were ostracized . . . shoved into the darkness and made to lurk in the shadow.  Of the ten he is the only one who understood.  Jesus acknowledges the man’s understanding and lets him know that he has gotten it right.  He has reached the apex of the triangle of human need . . . of fulfilling God’s desire . . . or being who God created him to be.  Jesus tells him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”

 

Whether we want to admit it or not, we all want to be seen . . . to be acknowledged . . . to be accepted as we are . . . to be loved.  We all want to be remembered.  All of us have had our moments when we felt as if we were hiding in the shadows.  We all long for that invitation to step out of the shadows to be seen.  It feels good to be acknowledged . . . to be accepted . . . and told that we are loved. 

 

Jesus skirted the edge of the shadows inviting those others rejected to come and join in the dance of life . . . to take their place at the Lord’s table.  He did it for you . . . he did it for me . . . and he especially does it for those whom the world had relegated to the darkness of the shadows.  Jesus understood the power of being remembered. 

 

God loves us.  God wants us to love ourselves.  And God wants us to help others to love too.  Through Jesus God shows us the way that this is to be done.  We are the children of God . . . plain and simple.  We all have a place in the family . . . a place at the table.  Let us move out of the shadows and invite others to join us.  In this way, like the man who acknowledged his invitation and gave thanks to the one who invited him, we can make a difference in our lives and the lives of others.  In such a way we discover our “wholeness” . . . our “holiness”.  We discover who God created us to be.  Amen.

 

“Turning the Table” (Luke 17:5-10)

The common perception of the Last Supper comes from Leonardo DaVinci’s painting of that last meal from around 1496.  For over five centuries that has been the mental picture most of us have carried of that last meal in that upper room of Jesus and his disciples.  It is of a long, rectangular table, covered in a white cloth, with Jesus sitting in the middle with disciples on both sides of him.  They are all sitting on the same side of the table.  Which brings me to my favorite Last Supper joke . . . what were the last words Jesus said at the last supper?  “All you guys who want in the picture get on this side of the table.”

All kidding aside, this is the image most of us have of the last supper.  As popular as the image is it is probably incorrect of its depiction of what took place that fateful night.  But remember, it is how the artist saw it in his mind . . . how he envisioned it.  It is clearly European in its form . . . the table, the tablecloth . . . even its setting does not look of the time or culture in which it took place.  It was DaVinci’s interpretation.

 

Though DaVinci’s painting is probably the most popular and best known, it is not the only one.  Over the centuries there have been many renderings of the Last Supper from across the world.  My favorite comes from a German-American illustrator by the name of Fritz Eichenberg.  His interpretation was not a painting, but a wood engraving titled The Lord’s Supper, 1955. Unlike DaVinci’s painting the table in Eichenberg’s is a round table.  Around the table are seated nine men sitting by Jesus, two are serving, and one stands in the doorway looking in.  The men are various ages—young and old . . . one has a crutch leaning against his chair . . . one is black . . . and they appear to be from what many might call the “wrong side of the tracks”.  The print is in stark contrast of DaVinci’s more colorful painting as it is in black-and-white.

 

Margaret McGuinness, a professor of Religion and Theology at LaSalle University says this about the work of art: “Fritz Eichenberg’s depiction of the Last Supper is certainly not based on Leonardo Da Vinci’s famous masterpiece. I would much rather use this print in class, however, because I suspect that the final meal Jesus shared with his apostles looked more like Eichenberg’s depiction than Da Vinci’s version. It only makes sense that folks sharing a meal would want to sit at a round table where they could enjoy each other’s company and participate in the conversation. In Da Vinci’s version, Jesus and the apostles appear to be sitting at the head table at a banquet. When you’re seated at a table like that, you can only talk to the person on either side of you. That setting is not very conducive for those hoping to participate in the first Eucharist. In addition, Eichenberg’s print is a strong reminder that Jesus did not cater to the wealthy and the powerful. He told us that the poor are blessed; he healed the lame; and he reached out to those considered sinners and unworthy. It’s not about doctrine and orthodoxy; it’s about love and how we treat our neighbor. Eichenberg understood that, and the result is a portrayal of Jesus and those he loved that challenges us to stop and think about what Christianity—and organized religion in general—should be about.”

 

Eichenberg was born to a Jewish family in Germany in 1901.  Having grown up in Germany during the first World War he held strong anti-war sentiments.  In 1923 he moved to Berlin to begin his career as an artist.   In 1933, the rise of Adolf Hitler made him a public critic of the Nazis and it was that year that he emigrated to the United States with his wife and children settling in New York City.  There he taught art and continued to provide illustrations for books and magazines.  Raised in a non-religious family he dabbled in several religions before landing in the Religious Society of Friends or what we call the Quakers in 1940 several years after his wife’s unexpected death.  He remained a Quaker until his death in 1990.  He was a close friend of Dorothy Day the founder of the Catholic Worker movement that advocated for social justice and practiced the works of mercy.  It was a movement based on hospitality and roundtable discussions.  Eichenberg’s prints appeared in The Catholic Worker magazine in 1955.

 

As you can imagine Eichenberg’s life experience, his faith background, and association with Dorothy Day influenced his understanding of Jesus and his ministry.  Dr. McGuinness said Eichenberg’s work serves as “. . . a strong reminder that Jesus did not cater to the wealthy and the powerful. He told us that the poor are blessed; he healed the lame; and he reached out to those considered sinners and unworthy. It’s not about doctrine and orthodoxy; it’s about love and how we treat our neighbor. Eichenberg understood that, and the result is a portrayal of Jesus and those he loved that challenges us to stop and think about what Christianity—and organized religion in general—should be about.”

 

It gives us something to think about . . . especially today.

 

Why today?

 

Well today is World Communion Sunday.  It is a day that is set aside by Christian denominations across the world to remember and observe the Lord’s Supper . . . to celebrate a “oneness” in Jesus with our brothers and sisters from across the world.  It is a reminder that we are to go and do as Jesus did . . . to love and to serve . . . especially those who are on the outside of life and society.

 

But . . . how?  Are we to base our practice and lives on DaVinci’s or Eichenberg’s interpretation of Jesus’ last meal with his disciples? 

 

In our reading this morning the disciples ask Jesus to “increase our faith!”  Now it is easy to believe that faith is what we think . . . what we have been taught . . . the teachings and words we have learned.  It is all in the mind.  Maybe that is what Jesus was saying when he told his disciples, “If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you.”

 

Here it seems as the disciples were asking for some sort of acknowledgement of the work they had been doing . . . some sort of a marker of their good deeds as a testament of their faith.  Up to that point what had the disciples done?  Not much and Jesus wasn’t handing out gold stickers anyways.  No, their test of faithfulness was coming.  In the meantime, Jesus let them know that faith is what they do and they do what must be done much like a servant who gets no accolades for the job he or she has been entrusted.  Jesus tells them: “ . . . when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.’”  Or as Joe Friday used to say on the old Dragnet show, “Just doing our jobs ma’am.”

 

Jesus turns the table on them.  As we have recreated the story of that last meal through the various gospels, we know that Jesus demonstrated and told his disciples that things were changing.  He took on the servant role and washed their feet to show them what it meant to be a servant.  He spoke to them about how his life, ministry, and actions come to a head with the ultimate act of servanthood . . . giving one’s life for the life of another.  And he told them to do all of this in remembrance of him.  They were to move from being served to serving.  The table was turned.

 

As so it has been turned on us to!  The question is which table were we sitting at . . . DaVinci’s or Eichenberg’s?  In one the table is set and we are invited to take our place.  In the other we set the table and invite others to join us.  In one it feels as if we are being served . . . as if we are receiving a gift . . . which in a way we are.  That is God’s grace.  Yet, in the other we are the gift as we remember Jesus . . . his words, but more importantly his actions.

 

As pretty as DaVinci’s painting is it is Eichenberg’s print that reminds us that as we gather around the Lord’s Table to celebrate this meal we are challenged by Jesus to do more than eat a simple meal.  We are challenged to “do this” . . . “do this in remembrance of me.”  In being served we are called to serve in return.  We are called to take the Lord’s table with us daily inviting others to find their place and become a part of the chain of grace.  Jesus rightly turns the table on us.  Do we pick up the challenge and follow? 

 

On this World Communion Sunday, just as Dr. McGuinness said about Eichenberg’s print, we are challenged to see a “portrayal of Jesus and those he loved that challenges us to stop and think about what Christianity—and organized religion in general—should be about.”  I think if we want to be in the picture we need to get on the right side of the table.  Amen.