Marilu Thomas, “Hiding in Plain Sight”

The gospel today is Jesus cleansing 10 lepers. Many sermons and other commentaries about this scripture tell you it is about giving thanks—that only one of the ten, a Samaritan, was thankful so the lesson becomes an example of being thankful. Being thankful is a wonderful thing—it is an admission by the receiver that they have received a gift. We express our appreciation for a gift by expressing gratitude and thankfulness. And this one leper does express his thanks to Jesus and falls prostrate on the ground for the gift of healing. Martin Luther, when asked the definition of worship, answered, “The one leper returning.” Let’s pause for a moment and ponder what life was like for the ten lepers before this healing.

Lepers were untouchables and not allowed into the synagogue or any public place where they might infect other people. They were also very unpleasant to look at and be around because they were wasting away, losing themselves one layer at a time. This meant they were outcasts from their families and only had relationships with other lepers. There was a moral element to their ostracization because they were blamed for their condition; they must have done something wrong. Or maybe their families did something wrong for God to punish them in this horrible way. We don’t know anything about the life they had before they became ill. They were labeled as lepers and that was all anyone needed to know about them. Lepers were people hiding in plain sight. 

Somehow this relates to the epidemic of mental health issues in our time. The pandemic has exacerbated feelings of anxiety, isolation, and differentness. We all feel like lepers of a sort—odd, wounded, hurting, not belonging but trying to fit into the club, whether that’s in the office, school, with other moms or dads, family, neighborhood, or friend group. Making yourself fit into what everyone else wants you to be. No one is exempt. Everybody’s got their own story. Ken Burns has a new documentary on youth mental health called, Hiding in Plain Sight. In it, twenty people ages 11-30 describe what it’s like to hide behind a happy face while you are hurting inside. Here are some of the phrases they used to describe their interiority: “There’s a loop of anxiety in my head that doesn’t stop,” “Fear felt like a force that was pushing on me,” “We don’t have the words, we don’t know how. We don’t want anyone to know what’s going on.” We hide because we are afraid of judgment, and we have been hurt before. We put on an air of got-it-together and not-needy so others will include us and not see our weaknesses. We want to be seen for who we are, but hiding is easier, less scary. “Does anyone really see me?”

I remember this feeling as a young mother. I had just moved to a new town because my husband and I were separated, so I already felt different. I volunteered to teach Sunday School and we had an orientation where each person was asked to share something about themselves. There were about ten of us and as we shared around the circle, I felt more anxious and insecure.  What was I going to say? The first moms said their children were making straight As, or winning trophies in sports or studying the Suzuki method of music and learning violin with their child. There was a silence and then the next woman revealed that she was barely keeping up with all the demands of motherhood, including forgetting to sign a field trip slip that morning. Then she passed. It was if my soul was released from a cage. She had spoken truth in that room and I could breathe again. By the end of the meeting, everyone had admitted that we needed each other because parenting is a relationship, not a competition, and we all need help. We adopted an “As Is” policy—meaning we could come as we were, not as we should be. I experienced grace in that room that day because I felt seen and free. Grace is revealed not earned.

There is a very important phrase in this scripture today to help us understand who Jesus is and how grace meets us where we are. “Jesus saw them.” It harkens back to God telling Moses in Exodus, “I have seen the affliction of my people...and have heard their cry…I know their sufferings.” Jesus saw these ten men as people who were afflicted with a disease. People who were cut off from their families and relationships because of something they had no control over. When they ask him for mercy, he does not quiz them on their biblical knowledge or previous religious experience or how thankful they will be when he heals them. He sees their misery and heals them. Robert Capon points out that the nine who went to the priests returned to their religious life, of rules and regulations, whereas this one Samaritan sees that Jesus is the true priest, the healer who asks no price for the healing.

You may be hiding in this very room, feeling unknown, feeling like you don’t belong. You tell yourself that no one else is feeling the way you are today. You may be single and feeling lonely. Or married and thinking others are more happily married. Or childless and seeing only couples with children. Or struggling financially and envisioning everyone around you is rich. You may be feeling guilty for your success because it distances you from old friends. 

Or feeling below average at school or work, imagining everyone around you is breezing through without problems. Whether you have the words or not, like the lepers, your heart is crying out for mercy, for love, for healing, for resurrection. Contrary to popular belief, Christianity is for those who have a need for healing, who feel they don’t belong. If you had X-Ray eyes, you could see who is hiding around you, because we all have pain and suffering that needs a big dose of grace and love.

One of my favorite films is Little Man Tate about a seven-year-old child genius named Fred Tate. His mother Dede, played by Jodie Foster, is a waitress who loves him and is trying to keep his life as normal as possible. Fred comes to the attention of a child psychologist for gifted children who asks for permission to develop his intellectual gifts at the college level.  After much pressure, Dede relents, and Fred moves in with the psychologist who treats him like a science experiment. She doesn’t seem to notice that he is a seven-year-old who is brilliant but also wants to play cowboy and be loved. The other students treat him like a freak, and he knows he doesn’t fit in.  He runs away from college and his mother is the only one who can find him because she knows him. Instead of scolding him, she hugs him and says, “Listen Freddie. The day you were born. The first minute, I saw you, you know what I said? This kid’s special. This kid’s going to be different and I’m not going blow it. But sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing. Sometimes I wing it. I figure, I love this kid so much it’s going to be ok. And it will. You’ll see.” And Fred really loved for all of him, heart, mind and soul.

Although you may feel like an outsider, like you don’t fit anywhere, Jesus feels about you the way Dede feels about her little man Tate. Christ loves you so much that He sacrificed himself for you so that your heart would be healed from the inside out. He sees you—he sees you as you are and loves you so you don’t have to hide anymore. He loves you so much that it’s going to be ok. Christ’s Grace has made you free. Amen