Running Water

Running water never disappointed.
Crossing water always furthered something.
Stepping stones were stations of the soul.

In a sequence of poems entitled Crossings, the Irish poet Seamus Heaney describes his childhood in northern Ireland. His words conjure up the wetness of the bog and the tracks or causeways over old drains and streams. The poem refers to the spades carried by turf-cutters, like his father and grandfather who would cut the clods of peat for fuel. In another poem, Heaney says that he would use the pen as his grandfather and father used the spade. 

Running water never disappointed. 
Crossing water always furthered something. 

The stepping stones, described by the poet, provide a pathway, and however precarious those stepping stones may be, they provide the backdrop for moments of growth, which enlarge the soul. 

We will come back to Heaney in a moment. But first, I want to talk about our reading from Luke’s gospel. Luke’s Gospel is probably the best known of the gospels. It contains the best known of Jesus’ parables, the Good Samaritan, the return of the Prodigal Son, Lazarus and the rich man, the lost coin, the barren fig tree, the Pharisee and the publican. And the point that comes over in all these parables is that at the heart of our faith is a God of compassion. No matter what you’ve said or done, no matter where you’ve been, no matter who you are, there is still a place for you in the heart of God. Every single human being is included in Luke’s portrayal of the kingdom of God.

And it’s because of this emphasis on compassion, this inclusivity, that St. Luke has become such an attractive figure. His gospel addresses our deepest fears and insecurities, that we may not be good enough, that we may not be wanted, that we may not be worthy. And yet Luke tells us that every one of us is included in the kingdom of God, everyone is welcomed as an honoured guest at Christ’s table.

And we see this inclusive vision of the kingdom in today’s gospel reading. Remember that Luke, of all the evangelists, was most concerned with people on the margins, with the people who felt that they were outsiders. For Luke, every single person is included in God’s offer of salvation.

In the story, there are ten lepers. All are healed. The Greek verb that is used here is an ambiguous term. The verb can refer to healing. It can also refer to salvation. All are healed. All are saved. But only one of them turns back to offer thanks for this extraordinary grace, only one of them praises God in a loud voice, falling at the feet of Jesus. He is a Samaritan.

People have read this story in two ways. They have read it as an allegory about the world. There is the whole human race (just like those ten lepers), all in need of health and salvation. Yet only a small proportion of us, those of a more religious disposition, respond to God’s grace. The story then becomes a little moment for self-congratulation. We are the ones who have responded like that one leper. Or alternatively they read this story as an allegory about the church. Ten lepers are like ten Christians. Nine of them – all they’re bothered about is outward observance. They go to the priest. They fulfil the requirements according to the law. But they are not the real thing. Only one is the real Christian. Only one recognizes who Jesus really is. In spite of the fact that we proclaim a gospel which is universal, the church often finds itself in the grip of all sorts of different forms of tribalism. Are you a liberal? Or a conservative? An anglo-catholic? Or an evangelical? The perennial party-game that Christians often play.

However tempting it is to define oneself against other Christians, particularly when you are tasked with overseeing one of the ‘boutique churches’ in the centre of Oxford, both these allegorical readings of this miracle story manage to completely miss the point. The leper who returns is a Samaritan. In other words, the one who responds to God’s grace, the one who offers praise and thanksgiving, is precisely the person that everyone else wants to exclude. 

Luke’s vision of the Christian faith is both broad generous. He teaches us that the real mission of the Church lies, first, in exercising a ministry of compassion, whether it’s visiting the sick, listening to the broken-hearted, welcoming the stranger and the refugee, seeking out the lost and the dispossessed, providing a voice for the voiceless. When the Church does this, it proclaims the universality of God’s offer of salvation. And salvation is just another word for health and for healing. It provides medicine for the soul. In this broad and generous vision of Christian discipleship, we discover not only the hospitality of God but also what it means to believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic church. To believe in the catholicity of the church is to reject tribalism in all its forms. To be a tribal catholic is an oxymoron. It is a contradiction in terms. To be a Christian nationalist is also a contradiction in terms.

But to acknowledge the universality of God’s offer of salvation is not some kind of ‘cheap grace’. Far from it. It is often far more costly. Some of the people who darken our doors are troubled or troublesome, sometimes both, and the care of troublesome people and the dynamics of inclusion demands of us enormous reserves of patience, kindness, generosity and grace. Among the evangelists, Luke reminds us again and again that Jesus went out of his way to eat with the poor, the marginalized and the oppressed, with tax-collectors, prostitutes and lepers. He proclaimed that they were as much inheritors of the kingdom as anyone else, in spite of the exclusion and discrimination they faced. More than any other evangelist, Luke articulates Jesus’ vision of the radical inclusivity of the kingdom of God. Here we discover again the universality of God’s offer of salvation, the depth and the breadth of God’s love for the world. And every time we imitate this Jesus, we discover one more stepping stone that will enlarge the soul.

Running water never disappointed.
Crossing water always furthered something. 

As Sophie comes for her baptism today, she will pass through the running water which offers the promise of new life. Pray that as she begins her journey of faith, she will in the course of her life find the stepping stones which enlarge the soul. May she discover the depths of God’s love for her and the hospitality of a church which is never tribal. And pray that her soul will be enlarged and filled with praise and compassion.