A story based on Luke 17:11-19
The old fellow is tired. His name is Ephraim. The day has been long and hard… and real good. All of his family – children, grandchildren, and a few cousins – came to his place for a big get together. Of course his wife is there, too. Lots of food, lots of laughing, lots of work! He’s tired. So he sits down under an acacia tree and watches his family and rests.
Ephraim looks up at the branches of the tree and his memory kicks in. Nowadays some things he forgets. Not that. It was a long time ago, but he remembers.
He was a young man. Already married. Had 3 – no, 4 – children. Three boys and a girl. He was a potter. Made bowls and pots and jars and stuff like that. He made a good livin’ cause he made good stuff – not junk – good stuff. Some folks said “works of art.” Those hands were gifted, skillful.
He remembers the day, the moment, he first saw it. Been a busy day, trying to finish up an order for some bowls. He was washing up – washin’ all the clay off his hands – and arms! Thought he was all cleaned up for supper, then he saw a spot he had missed – right there on his wrist. So he scrubbed again but it didn’t come off. Scrubbed harder – and harder – the spot was still there. Ephraim knew what it was but pretended he didn’t. He kept it hidden from everybody – his wife, his kids, his neighbors, his customers – everybody. Thought, hoped, wished it might go away. Every day he checked that spot – it just got bigger. He had to admit it – leprosy. Bad stuff. Worst disease there was.
Ephraim remembers showing it to his wife. She said, “It’s just a rash. It’ll go away.” “No!” he told her, “It’s not a rash. It’s leprosy. It won’t go away. I have to go away.” They held each other for a long time. He hoped – he prayed – she wouldn’t get it. He didn’t let the spot touch her.
Ephraim remembers moving out of the house – out away from everybody so nobody would get it from him. Built him a little hut. And he kept on making pottery. When he had some pieces finished he’d leave ’em under a little acacia tree. His wife’d come get ’em and sell ’em in town. That’s where she left him some food, too. He remembers all the times they’d meet at that tree – except they wouldn’t really meet. Had to stand way apart. He could see her, could talk to her – just couldn’t touch her, couldn’t hold her no more.
Most of the time she brought the kids. Ephraim couldn’t pick his little girl up and swing her over his head. Couldn’t wrestle with his boys. Couldn’t hold their hands against the spinnin’ clay on the pottery wheel. All he could do was look at ’em, smile at ’em, and say, “I love you.” And tell ’em to mind their mama!
Now he remembers one day about 3 months after he had to leave. The whole family came out, and after awhile his wife sent the kids back home. She said she needed to tell him something. Said, “I don’t know how you’re gonna take this…but, well, I’m gonna have another baby!” Ephraim was overjoyed! Then his heart broke – again – never get to hold his new baby.
Bad stuff, leprosy, real bad stuff.
That stuff started poppin’ out all over him. And it spread. That first spot went down into his hand – like a dog gnawin’ on a bone – eatin’ up the flesh. It always hurt. Pretty soon his pottery makin’ days were over – leprosy chewed up his skills. That stuff went all over him – took away half his fingers and toes, one of his ears, part of his nose. That’s leprosy – eats you up bit by bit. He remembers how bad it was.
Ephraim didn’t have to stay alone, though. He wasn’t the only leper around. He met some others. There was finally 10 of ’em joined up together. They helped each other – washin’, bandagin’, talkin’ stuff. It’s funny – without leprosy they never woulda got together. Fact is, they woulda hated each other. The other 9 were Jews. Ephraim – he’s a Samaritan. When you’re hurtin’, them old prejudices don’t mean much. Don’t matter who you’re dyin’ with, long as there’s somebody. He remembers every one of those guys – good guys. Never forget ’em.
Now Ephraim remembers another day. That new baby – another girl – was about 6 months old. He saw his wife come runnin’ down the road toward their acacia tree. Never had seen her run before. When she got there the words came flyin’ outa her mouth: “There’s a man. A healer. Up in Galilee. A healer! Cures blindness. Cures lameness! Cures leprosy! Ephraim – leprosy – he cures leprosy!” He remembers those words: a man, a healer, cures leprosy. Of course he was skeptical. But hopeful, too. “Who?” he asked her, “Who is it?” She said, “His name is Jesus. From Nazareth.” And Ephraim remembers thinkin’, “Jesus? A Jew name. Won’t do me any good.” But his wife went on: “They say he helps everybody – not just his own kind. And he’s comin’ this way. They say he’s headed for Jerusalem and he’ll come through here.”
Well, he wasn’t going to let this chance go by without tryin’. He told the others and all 10 of them headed for town. They waited outside the village – couldn’t go in. People would come down the road. He remembers most of them talking about that Jesus. Said he was telling about God’s Kingdom – it’s not just for priests and rabbis and sacrificers – said it wasn’t even just for Jews – it’s for everybody: Romans, Greeks…Samaritans. Said he was the one who’d bring God’s Kingdom for everybody. Ephraim didn’t think much about that – all he wanted was that leprosy cured.
He remembers a few – 3 or 4 – days went by. One afternoon, his wife came runnin’ over the hill. Runnin’ again! She was yellin’: “He’s coming! He’s almost here.” They watched for him…waitin’. Several men came over the rise. Somebody said, “That’s him leadin’ the way. That’s Jesus.” The 10 lepers started yelling, “Jesus! Master! Jesus! Jesus!” Jesus stopped on the road. Looked at them like, “Well, what do you want?” They yelled, “Help us! Have pity! Please, help us.” Jesus looked at every one of those men – Ephraim remembers those eyes – and he said, “Go to the priests and show them.” Then he walked on down the road. Ephraim remembers they all looked at each other – nothin’ changed, still had leprosy. Somebody said, “Let’s do it. Let’s do what he said.” They started off. Except Ephraim. He looked down the road and yelled, “Jesus!” and when he turned and looked, he asked, “Me, too? I’m Samaritan.” Ephraim remembers his laugh – a happy laugh – and he said, “You, too.”
Ephraim ran to catch up with the others. It happened all of a sudden – their leprosy disappeared! Every one of them had clean, healthy bones and muscle and skin. They were cured! They were well! They started whoopin’ and hollerin’ and carryin’ on. Then Ephraim stopped. He remembered. He remembers that he remembered. He remembered Jesus. He said, “I have to thank him.” He ran back to catch him. He was runnin’ and yellin’ – “Praise to the Lord! Thank you! Hallelujah!” He was runnin’ and jumpin’ – can’t do that no more but he did then. He caught up with Jesus and stopped him. He went down on his knees and said, “Thank you, Jesus. Praise to God! Thank you, Jesus, thank you.”
Ephraim remembers hearing Jesus say something about the other 9 not coming and praising God – just this Samaritan. But he remembers most something started happening in his heart, on the inside. He realized Jesus was the one who brings God’s Kingdom. Jesus bent down and raised him up. He stared into his eyes. He said, “You have faith. Now you’re really well. Just go on home now.”
Old Ephraim remembers understanding that leprosy wasn’t the only thing wrong with him. Wasn’t the worst stuff – sin was. Sin was eatin’ him up on the inside. And then it was gone. Jesus took it away. He remembers that moment – Jesus took it away. He made Ephraim well on the inside.
He ran back up the road to his wife. He took her in his arms and they held each other – a long time. Good stuff.
They went on home. Now Ephraim remembers going through the front door and them kids jumpin’ all over him. They wrestled and rolled around on the floor a long time. Then he got all 4 in his lap and just held ’em. His wife left the room and in a minute came back with a bundle. She opened it up – their daughter. She gently lay his baby into his clean, healthy hands. He pulled her up to his face. Good stuff.
With every pot he made, he remembered. With every handshake, he remembered. With every hug from his NINE children, he remembered. With every kiss from his wife, he remembered. With every disappointment, every loss, every pain, he remembered. He remembered to thank Jesus.
The old fellow stands up under the acacia tree. He remembers how bad it was. Sinful. Rebellious. Selfish. Guilty. Unbelieving. And he remembers how Jesus took it all away. He lets out with “Thank you, Jesus!” Everybody there stops what they’re doing and looks at him – his kids, their wives and husbands, his grandchildren, those cousins – and they let it out, too: “Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus!” His old wife walks over – doesn’t run any more – puts her arms around him and holds on for a long time. She whispers, “I remember. Thank you, Jesus.”