Je suis Charlie / Je suis un lépreux

Homily for February 15, 2015
Leviticus 13:1-2, 44-48; Psalm 32; 1 Corinthians 10:31-11:1; Mark 1:40-45

The murders of 12 people in the attack on the offices of the French satirical magazine Charlie Hebdo last month shocked the world.  In demonstrations against terrorism, in solidarity with those who lost loved ones, and in support of freedom of the press, people in Paris and throughout the world carried signs and shared Tweets that said, Je suis Charlie, “I am Charlie.”

In today’s readings we are dared to declare, Je suis un lépreux, “I am a leper.”

We may not have what is now known as Hansen’s Disease or any of the variety of more temporary and curable skin ailments that are encompassed by the Hebrew sāra’at (including psoriasis, eczema, and seborrhea); but at some point in our lives we have probably felt rejected or marginalized.  Perhaps it was something we said or did; or it may have been because of who we were.  It’s no fun living “outside the camp.”

We should be careful lest we too quickly condemn the people and laws of the biblical age in these matters.  They had far less medical knowledge and technology than we have today; and as the recent controversies involving the measles vaccine and Ebola virus have demonstrated, we are not immune to misinformation and ignorance.  The measures described in our first reading were ultimately designed to protect the community and to provide a measured process for reintegrating people who were afflicted with leprosy after they were no longer symptomatic.

From a personal standpoint, however, it’s hard to consider the measures anything but harsh:  one was declared “unclean” by a priest and was required to “keep his garments rent and his head bare…muffle his beard… [and] cry out, ‘Unclean, unclean.’”  Not only were lepers thus marginalized, they were required by law to actively participate in their marginalization!  Further, their physical separation underscored their ritual, spiritual and (presumed) moral alienation from the community.  While that may be understandable from a legal or public health perspective, it could not have been easy.

This was the context in which Jesus healed the leper in today’s gospel.  Moved by compassion for the man who knelt before him, Jesus touched him and very clearly told him that it was his will that the man be made clean.  He was.  Centuries later, a young Italian discerning his vocation and for whom lepers were a nauseating sight encountered one on the road and embraced him in a gesture of compassion and solidarity.  The leper wasn’t physically healed; but the young man was radically transformed and given God’s grace to carry out his mission to rebuild a Church that was falling into ruin.  We know him today as St. Francis of Assisi.

As St. Francis knew and as Pope Francis has repeated many times, we are all sinners.  If we are really honest with ourselves, it shouldn’t be too hard to say, Je suis un lépreux.  Thankfully, like the man in the gospel, we too can approach Jesus in faith, experience his healing touch, and be made whole—an especially comforting thought as we prepare to celebrate Ash Wednesday and begin another season of Lent.  Having experienced that grace, we can follow St. Paul’s encouragement in our second reading.  Even in the face of controversies and other differences in the community, we can learn to not only avoid demonizing or offending each other but instead seek the glory of God and the good of our brothers and sisters in all things. +