One Turned Back

Photo Credit: Ryan Roth Klinck

By Andrea Lingle

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" When he saw them, he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, "Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?" Then he said to him, "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well." Luke 17:11–19

I am a small-time merchant. Some people might call me a junk trader. Some people wonder where I find the things I sell. Tell me you don't have any secrets. I travel from town to town, selling the oddments I pick up along the way. What if I do trade a single shoe for a tunic? I call that shrewd business. But I will tell you, I saw a thing when I was walking from Samaria the other day. I had just traded ten new wine skins for three camel halters I happened to find, and I was walking down the road with these ten wine skins all slung over my shoulders. I knew I would get a premium for them in Galilee. You know how fishermen go through their wineskins. So, I was walking along and I passed this group of men wandering down the road. One minute a guy called out, "My hands!" Another was sobbing so loudly I looked around for blood or a dead person. Behind the group lay little heaps of cloth all shredded and dirty. I didn't bother pick them up. Obviously, it had been the outer tunics these guys had been wearing as their skin was pale and pink. They were like so many babies walking down the road. I kept walking, bumping along with all my wine skins, trying not to stare. Pretty soon one of the men came back past me like a sheep being chased by a hornet. He was shouting and waving his arms. He was at a dead sprint and every three steps or so he would take a huge leap. He was getting pretty breathless, but the joy on that guy's face.

As I came around the next bend, I saw the guy on his hands and knees. I could hear him, but I couldn't tell what he was saying. There was a small group of men standing around him. They were sturdy folk. Honestly dressed. Tanned. Not too fancy, but confident.

I shifted the wine skins around on the shoulders. I knew I was going to make a killing off of them, but it made me nervous to be carrying them like this. I probably shouldn't have tried to carry them all the way to Galilee, fisherman or no. I was going to get robbed if didn't get somewhere before dark.

Anyway, this guy was still kneeling if from of the group of men. I think to myself, that is really weird. I just kinda edge over to the other side of the road as I pass them. I think about how slow I would be if I had to run with these skins wrapped around me. I try to keep my eyes on the road to keep from being seen. I couldn't do it though. I glanced up at the group. I finally understood what the man was saying. His voice was going hoarse. It was like he had used up twenty years of talking in a few minutes. The guy had snot bubbling from his nose and tears dripping onto the dirt. He was on all fours. He dropped his head down and said,

"Thank you. I am clean. Thank you."

"Thank you."