reach out“He shall dwell apart, making his abode outside the camp.” Those final words in our passage from Leviticus today might be the saddest words recorded in the Old Testament. Can you imagine what that would be like, especially in the Bedouin-like existence of the Jewish people during their sojourn in the desert?
• Practically, it is a nuisance. You are farthest away from the source of water. And you’ll go through ½ of the camp, ringing a bell and saying: “Unclean, Unclean.”
• You’d hear the sounds of laughter, the late night murmur of conversations, the playing of children – but you would not be able to take part in them.
• Your family would struggle as well – and though the skin conditions that would be declared unclean were not the debilitating symptoms of what WE know as Hansen’s disease, (climate is too dry for what we know a leprosy (rather it is what we would know as eczema, psoriasis, severe acne) yet, you would STILL not be able to help your family with anything – even though physically, you are ‘fine’ and mostly able bodied.
• And in the absence of the creams and lotions and over the counter medicines that we are accustomed to, you could be forced to dwell apart for a long, long time – angry, frustrated and isolated, because of something that you had little or no control over.

The biblical prohibitions against leprosy were designed to protect the community (similar to the involuntary quarantines of health workers returning from ebola infected patients, or un-immunized kids exposed to the measles)– but did so at the expense of the individual. He shall dwell apart, making his abode outside the camp. For the good of the group, the individual was isolated from everyone.

I suspect that Jesus ‘knew’ how difficult it was to dwell apart, to be an outsider, wanting to be in. Because He does not flinch, does he, when the leper approaches. For to touch the leper risked the same fate as the leper – to be on the outside, looking in, should you contract any of those skin diseases.

And you sort of ‘hear’ that in the conversation: The leper says: “If you wish, you can make me clean. You can restore me to family, to friends, to the life that I was so vibrantly a part of and want to be a part of again.” Jesus’ response is just as immediate: “I do wish it. Be made clean.” And then, because it is not enough for someone to be cured to be allowed to be returned to family, he commands the man to show himself to the priests – the final steps in his restoration to the community.

So we see in this story, not just the physical healing of the man, but his restoration to the life of the community, his inclusion back into the family that nourished him. In fact, he is so thrilled to be back, that can’t stop telling people about his good fortune. He disobeys Jesus’ command – to not tell anyone – because in the joy of restoration, of no longer having to dwell apart, outside the camp he cannot keep silent. The good news is just too good not to be shared.

There are, I think, two concrete consequences, to ‘easy ways’ for us to be a part of that same healing that is recounted in the gospel today.

The first is easy. Contact someone who has been ‘dwelling apart, outside the camp’ as it were, for whatever reason. Perhaps they lost a spouse, a son, a daughter recently, and it is just so dang hard to come back to this church, because the last time there were here was at the funeral and it is still feels too sad, ‘too much’ just yet. Offer to sit with them, and tell them ‘you’ll bring the Kleenex’. Or call the neighbor who can’t see so well to drive at night – an offer to pick them up. I know a gentleman at Normandy Nursing home who would love to come to mass here, but has no transportation – so, though I bring him communion, it is not quite the same. Who haven’t you seen in the pews around you these days? Give them a call and check in on them. It will mean the world to them.

Secondly, like the man who was healed who couldn’t shut up about the good news he knew in Jesus – pick ONE blessing to share this week – with your spouse, your kids, your parents, your neighbor – about how good God has been to you. It does not need to be earth shattering. But it does need to be shared.

You see, here at this altar, we bring all that keeps us dwelling apart, with our abode outside the camp to the one who says to us, as he said to the one in the gospel – “I do wish you to be whole, to be connected, to be made clean. Come to the table of life!”