Urban Dictionary Defines Christianity

I love Urban Dictionary for so many reasons. How could you not love an online dictionary that allows anyone with a computer to determine the meaning of language?

I sometimes find myself looking up random words for a good laugh. Today, I looked up “Christianity.” Here is what I found:

The belief that a cosmic Jewish Zombie who was his own father can make you live forever if you symbolically eat his flesh and telepathically tell him you accept him as your master, so he can remove an evil force from your soul that is present in humanity because a rib-woman was convinced by a talking snake to eat from a magical tree.

If you think about it, the definition is certainly snarky, but not completely off.

Benedict XVI on Faith and Politics

In his Jesus of Nazareth: From the Baptism in the Jordan to the Transfiguration, Pope Benedict XVI offers the following interpretation of the third temptation of Jesus in the wilderness (as recounted in Matt 4:8-10):

The Christian empire attempted at an early stage to use the faith in order to cement political unity. The Kingdom of Christ was now expected to take the form of a political kingdom and its splendor. The powerlessness of faith, the earthly powerlessness of Jesus Christ, was to be given the helping hand of political and military might. This temptation to use power to secure the faith has arisen again and again in varied forms throughout the centuries, and again and again faith has risked being suffocated in the embrace of power. The struggle for the freedom of the Church, the struggle to avoid identifying Jesus’ Kingdom with any political structure, is one that has to be fought century after century. For the fusion of faith and political power always comes at a price: faith becomes the servant of power and must bend to its criteria (39-40).

A bit later, Benedict concludes:

Jesus…repeats to us what he said in reply to Satan, what he said to Peter, and what he explained further to the disciples of Emmaus: No kingdom of this world is the Kingdom of God, the total condition of mankind’s salvation. Earthly kingdoms remain earthly human kingdoms, and anyone who claims to be able to establish the perfect world is the willing dupe of Satan and plays the world right into his hands (43-44).

Epiphany, 2011

Today the Magi find crying in a manger the one they have followed as he shone in the sky. Today the Magi see clearly, in swaddling clothes, the one they have long awaited as he lay hidden among the stars.

Today the Magi gaze in deep wonder at what they see: heaven on earth, earth in heaven, man in God, God in man, one whom the whole universe cannot contain now enclosed in a tiny body. As they look, they believe and do not question, as their symbolic gifts bear witness: incense for God, gold for a king, myrrh for one who is to die.

– Peter Chrysologus, Sermon 160, PL 52:620-62.

* image – The Epiphany, Giotto Di Bondone

The iPulpit

Call me crazy, but this strikes me as slightly over the top. Click here for the full story.

Lumen Gentium 57

In the public life of Jesus, Mary makes significant appearances. This is so even at the very beginning, when at the marriage feast of Cana, moved with pity, she brought about by her intercession the beginning of miracles of Jesus the Messiah. In the course of her Son’s preaching she received the words whereby in extolling a kingdom beyond the calculations and bonds of flesh and blood, He declared blessed those who heard and kept the word of God, as she was faithfully doing. After this manner the Blessed Virgin advanced in her pilgrimage of faith, and faithfully persevered in her union with her Son unto the cross, where she stood, in keeping with the divine plan, grieving exceedingly with her only begotten Son, uniting herself with a maternal heart with His sacrifice, and lovingly consenting to the immolation of this Victim which she herself had brought forth. Finally, she was given by the same Christ Jesus dying on the cross as a mother to His disciple with these words: “Woman, behold thy son”.

There’s Something About Mary, Part 3

In the first post of this series, I gave a summary of the four Catholic dogmas concerning Mary. In this post, a New Testament witness to Mary’s role in the Incarnation, specifically that of Luke. Among the Synoptic Gospels, the Gospel of Luke stands out with regard to Mary’s role in the birth of Jesus. Matthew’s birth narrative certainly includes Mary, but she is a fairly passive character. She is found to be pregnant by the Holy Spirit (ἐν γαστρὶ ἔχουσα ἐκ πνεύματος ἁγίου) in Matt 1:18, but Matthew’s attention in this narrative seems more focussed on Joseph than on Mary; namely, the angel who visits Joseph instructs him on how he is to handle his future wife who has become pregnant. Mark, of course, has no birth narrative. Mary appears in the Gospel of John, and her character is significant, but her role in that Gospel will necessitate another post (I write this retrospectively, seeing how long this particular post has become).

In Luke, Mary’s role in Jesus’ birth is extensive and pronounced. After he has visited both Zechariah and Elizabeth to announce the forthcoming birth of John the Baptist (Luke 1:5-25), the angel Gabriel is sent by God to visit Mary in Nazareth. When he greets her, he does so by means of the title κεχαριτωμένη, a perfect participle that means, “one who has been graced.” Typically, English translations render this “favored one” or even “highly favored one.” In my opinion, a better translation of this participle would in fact match the sense of the Ave Maria, “one who is full of grace.” The perfect tense typically means action completed in the past, but with continuing effects into the future. All of these things considered, Gabriel’s address to Mary shows that she is in possession of grace, that she has been in possession of grace, and that her possession of grace is distinct from the rest who are in Luke’s narrative. Canonically speaking, her possession of grace distinguishes her from everyone else as well.

Gabriel continues by telling Mary that she will become pregnant with a son (by the power of the Holy Spirit), that her son will be called the son of the Most High (ὐψίστου), and that God will give to him the throne of David, which will last forever (Luke 1:32-33). Mary’s response to Gabriel has given rise to no shortage of theological reflection; she says, in reference to herself, “Behold, the servant(f) of the Lord. May it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). This response, known simply as Mary’s Fiat, effectively sets in motion the events of the Incarnation. This is not to say that the Word becoming flesh was some sort of afterthought, or that without Mary’s consent humanity could not have been redeemed. To be sure, redemption could have occurred in any number of ways. However, the means by which God chose to act was through a virgin in Nazareth who was not only able to bear the Redeemer, but who was willing to bear the Redeemer. Mary’s being graced (κεχαριτωμένη) shows her ability to undertake such a task; her Fiat shows her willingness.

Mary’s encounter with Elizabeth is also worth noting in this discussion. When she goes to see her relative (Luke 1:36, 39-40), John the Baptist is still in Elizabeth’s womb. Upon seeing Mary (who is now pregnant), John leaps in the womb and Elizabeth is immediately filled with the Holy Spirit. She exclaims, “You have been blessed among women; also the fruit of your womb has been blessed!” Elizabeth then makes a statement that has often been glossed over, “Why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord might come to me?” (Luke 1:43). This entire scene is striking on account of its theological richness. Namely, Mary comes to Elizabeth when she is barely pregnant (i.e., the baby is likely not showing yet), and yet Elizabeth, empowered by the Spirit, is aware that Mary is with child. Moreover, Elizabeth asserts that Mary is the mother of her Lord. Now, I’m not going to press things too far and say that Luke singlehandedly gave birth (pardon the pun) to the concept of Mary as θεοτόκος that would be championed at Ephesus in 431…I’m also not going to say that Luke’s metaphysics of the Incarnation (if we may even speak of such things at this point) is sophisticated enough to support the theological weight of such a claim. However, I will say is that Luke’s portrayal of this scene seems to me as Mariological as it is Christological…it could perhaps be said to be more Mariological than it is Christological. Namely, although Jesus is technically in this scene (in utero), His character is quite passive in every sense of the word. The focus is on Mary’s being the Mother of the Lord.

At this point, we may rightly speak of a shift in focus. After Elizabeth has finished praising Mary, Mary begins to prophesy in what is now known as the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55). In this hymn of praise, Mary directs the reader’s attention, not to herself, but to God; specifically, she speaks of God’s saving action. Granted, Mary’s hymn of praise also addresses the topic of her own role in this work, especially at the beginning, but this is always as a means to show the larger picture of God’s action in and among humanity. In a sense, the Magnificat embodies what any talk of Mary should embody. That is, Mary’s role in this process is beyond question; as mentioned earlier, Mary’s Fiat has set in motion the events of the Incarnation, and as such, her Fiat shows her own willingness to participate in the work of redemption. The work of redemption is always and undeniably the work of God, but at least in Luke’s Gospel, Mary’s role in this plan remains undeniable.

Scattered throughout the New Testament, there are other texts that speak either specifically of Mary or broadly of Jesus having a human mother. I have chosen to focus here on the Annunciation narrative in Luke, as it strikes me as among the most Mariological narratives in the New Testament. If you’re interested in looking for yourself at the other New Testament authors who speak of Mary, the Marian Library at the University of Dayton has a fine resource that can be accessed here.

The Shadow of the Galilean (review)

I just finished reading Gerd Theissen’s The Shadow of the Galilean. Truth be told, it is one of the finest books on Jesus that I’ve read.

Just a note, the following post is intentionally vague at points, to avoid spoiling the book.

The subtitle of the book (The Quest of the Historical Jesus in Narrative Form) may lead one to believe that it is yet another fictitious account about what Jesus might have done as he roamed around Galilee. To be sure, such narratives do in fact have value, when they’re attentive to questions of historicity and when they don’t completely ignore what was probable (or even possible) in first century Palestine.

Theissen’s book, however, is of a different breed; the book itself has much to do with Jesus, but Jesus himself never appears directly on any pages of the narrative. The main character, Andreas, sees Jesus once (he tells the reader in retrospect), but throughout the book he cannot avoid constantly running into Jesus’ “shadow.” While traveling around Galilee and the surrounding areas, Andreas meets people who have been influenced by Jesus, people who are supporters of Jesus, and people who think that Jesus is a troublemaker. Through these encounters, Andreas learns of those things that Jesus did and said.

In this regard, Andreas’ task is not unlike that of the modern historian whose focus is the historical Jesus. A quote from the beginning of chapter 14 sums the matter up nicely: “I never met Jesus on my travels through Galilee. I just found traces of him everywhere: anecdotes and stories, traditions and rumours. He himself remained intangible. But everything that I heard of him [fit] together. Even quite exaggerated stories about him had a characteristic stamp. They would not have been told about anyone else in this way.”

Throughout the narrative, Theissen also introduces characters that will be immediately recognizable to those who have done work in 1st century history; Philo, Pilate, Bannus (from Josephus, Life 2, 11), Barabbas, etc. all make at least cameo appearances. Generally, when Theissen is introducing a new character who actually (or probably) existed, he will footnote them; the same is true regarding his citation of extra-canonical texts.

The book is also accented by Theissen’s side of a correspondence with a certain “Dr. Kratzinger,” who throughout the book aims to keep Theissen’s narrative grounded in some sort of historical reality.

This book can be both helpful and enjoyable to anyone interested in knowing more about 1st century Palestine. I have studied much of the material covered in the book for years, and I found myself unable to stop reading it. That is to say, this book is not simply for a common audience, although I imagine that even those not terribly familiar with the political, social and religious structures of this time period will still find the book quite enjoyable and informative.

There’s Something About Mary, part 2

This is the first in a series of followup posts that started here.

There are four Marian dogmas professed by the Catholic Church, and ideally, all beliefs concerning Mary should be subsumed under these four. Notably, there is a movement among some Catholics that lobbies for a fifth Marian dogma, one which would proclaim Mary as Co-Redemptrix. It is an interesting discussion, but due to its not being dogma at this point in time, I shall leave it unaddressed in what follows. The four Marian dogmas currently professed by the Catholic Church, I present here in the order in which they were defined:

Mary is the Mother of God — Mary as theotókos (θεοτόκος), literally, “God-bearer” is a title that was bestowed upon Mary at the Council of Ephesus in 431. It was issued in response to Nestorius, who claimed that we might call Mary a “man-bearer” (ἀνθρωποτόκος), or perhaps even a “Christ-bearer” (Χριστοτόκος), but that to claim Mary as having born God would in fact be impossible, perhaps even heretical. Against Nestorius, Ephesus affirmed that Mary was in fact the God-bearer (θεοτόκος), as her child Jesus was in fact God, the second person of the Trinity who truly became flesh. According to Cyril of Alexandria, the humanity of Jesus had no other subject than the second person of the Trinity, the Word (λόγος); namely, Jesus’ body never existed apart from the Word, and thus the body of Jesus was in fact the Word’s own body. Now, a qualifier is needed, which is provided by Ephesus 431. That is, although the body of Jesus never existed apart from the Word, the Word did exist before the body of Jesus. That is, the second person of the Trinity has always existed, but the man Jesus has not. So Ephesus 431 proclaimed that Mary is “Mother of God, not that the nature of the Word or his divinity received the beginning of its existence from the holy Virgin, but that, since the holy body, animated by a rational soul, which the Word of God united to himself according to the hypostasis, was born from her, the Word is said to be born according to the flesh” (See Catechism of the Catholic Church, hereafter CCC, §466, 495).

Mary is an Ever-Virgin — Mary as ever-virgin (ἀειπάρθενος) is a title given to Mary at the First Lateran Council of 649, although the tradition itself dates to at least the second century. The dogma of Mary as ever-virgin states that Mary’s virginity remained intact before, during and after the birth of Jesus. The first part of this statement, namely, that Mary was a virgin before Jesus’ conception, is difficult to disagree with. What I mean by this is not that it should be obvious that Jesus’ mother was a virgin (this is indeed a matter of faith), but rather that most mainstream Christian denominations, Protestant, Catholic and Orthodox alike, have little to no trouble affirming that Jesus was “born of the virgin Mary.” The Apostles’ Creed and the Nicene Creed state nothing less. That Jesus is born of a virgin points to the fact that the incarnation was the work of God, a sign of the power of God working in and among humanity. That is, humanity did give birth to their savior independently…the savior is born through an act of God. It is the latter part of this pronouncement that tends to ruffle some feathers (in a technical sense).

The idea that Mary is an ever-virgin, that is, that she remained a virgin after Jesus was born, can be taken two ways. First, it can be taken to mean that, postpartum, Mary’s hymen remained intact; that is, that Jesus’ birth in no way affected the status of Mary as virgin (if you define virginity in the sense of an intact hymen). On the other hand, it can also be taken to mean that, along with maintaining postpartum integrity, Mary also chose not to engage in sexual relations with Joseph before or after Jesus’ birth. Many non-Catholics (or many Catholics, for that matter), will likely see the first option as the best, especially considering that the New Testament speaks of Jesus’ brothers and sisters (see Mark 3:31-35; 6:3; John 7:3 1 Cor 9:5; Gal 1:19). A Catholic response to these New Testament passages (that I don’t actually agree with, but that is the subject of another post) is that the authors of the New Testament here refer to Jesus’ cousins. [I have excised part of this post in hopes of exploring it in a further post. See comments below] So, in which of the two senses listed above is the dogma of Mary as ever-virgin to be understood? The answer is, “both.”

Mary was “immaculately conceived” — After the definition of Mary as ever-virgin, a period of roughly 1,200 years elapsed before Pope Pius IX, in 1854, defined the Marian dogma of the immaculate conception in the apostolic constitution, Ineffabilis Deus. Ask most Christians (Protestant and Catholic alike) what is meant by the “immaculate conception” and they will likely tell you that it refers to Jesus’ birth from a virgin womb. That Jesus’ conception was immaculate can (and should) certainly be asserted, but the immaculate conception as it was defined in 1854 refers not to Jesus’ conception, but to Mary’s. Pius IX wrote in the constitution, “We declare, pronounce, and define that the doctrine which holds that the most Blessed Virgin Mary, in the first instance of her conception, by a singular grace and privilege granted by Almighty God, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, the Savior of the human race, was preserved free from all stain of original sin, is a doctrine revealed by God and therefore to be believed firmly and constantly by all the faithful.”

The dogma of the immaculate conception is not intended to tell us something about Mary for Mary’s sake; all Marian dogma ideally points past itself (and Mary) to Jesus. This dogma, while it clearly states that Mary was conceived without original sin (and presumably, continued to live without sin), points toward the mechanics of how the incarnation (or conception in general, for that matter) was thought to have worked. Namely, the male “seed” provides the form of the human being, while the female provides the matter from which the human being takes their existence. The dogma of the immaculate conception attests first to the belief that the incarnation was not an afterthought, some sort of “emergency plan” enacted by God to save humanity. Rather, the incarnation was willed by God from the beginning, and since God chose to become incarnate and be born in human fashion, it is fitting that God would need to provide a suitable vessel for God’s conception. The incarnation was not the only way that God could have acted to save humanity. It was, however, the means by which God chose to save humanity. Namely, the dogma of the immaculate conception attests to the belief that God chose to save humanity by taking on human flesh and by dying as an innocent victim. As Jesus’ flesh was unstained by sin, so the woman from whom He received his flesh must be unstained by sin. As I will show in a later post, this dogma itself dates early, at least to the second century, despite the fact that it was only defined in the mid-nineteenth century.

Mary was assumed into heaven, body and soul – The dogma of the assumption is a late addition to the corpus of Marian dogma, defined by Pius XII in the 1950 apostolic constitution, Munificentissimus Deus. This is, notably, the only time that a Pope has spoken ex cathedra since the dogma of Papal Infallibility was defined at Vatican I in 1870. He wrote, “we pronounce…that the Immaculate Mother of God, the ever Virgin Mary, having completed the course of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory.” If you have been paying attention to the three dogmas that preceded this one, you will note how this fourth and final dogma completes and in fact subsumes those that came before; Mary is proclaimed as immaculate, Mother of God, and ever Virgin. Naturally, it seems as if the dogma of the assumption should be seen as completing the previous three.

From early on in the Christian tradition, it has been believed that the corruption of the body was a symptom of sin, and that had Adam and Eve not transgressed in the garden, they would have lived longer, perhaps even eternally (although it is questionable whether Genesis supports the latter option). Moreover, it has been asserted and believed that Christ’s second coming (παρουσία) will bring a final defeat of physical corruption and death, and that all those who have previously died will be raised to live eternally with Christ. Paul seems to affirm as much in 1 Cor 15:22 when he writes, “Just as all die (ἀποθνῄσκουσιν) in Adam, so all will be made alive (ζῳοποιηθήσονται) in Christ.” Likewise, in Rom 6:23, “For death is the wages (ὀψώσια) of sin, but eternal life (ζωὴ αἰώνιος) is the gift of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” The dogma of the Assumption of Mary, in light of what has previously been said about Mary, attests to this belief. Namely, if Mary was kept free of original sin at her conception, and if she remained free of sin throughout her life, it logically follows that her body would not suffer corruption after death. The question of whether or not Mary died is a point over which Catholics and Orthodox disagree, with the latter asserting the “dormition,” but not the “death” of Mary. In Munificentissimus Deus, Pius XII seems to leave the door open for both, but in fact many assert (I think, rightly), that Mary did in fact die. This is, after all, what human bodies do. The dogma of the Assumption, properly speaking, does not answer the question of whether or not Mary died…it is only concerned with what happened after her time on earth was finished.

Comment and Synthesis — Presented here are the four Marian dogmas of the Catholic Church as I understand them from the Catechism of the Catholic Church. There are certainly other concerning Mary that are articulated there, but for the sake of simplicity I’ve chosen not to address them here. My goal in this post has been to set the stage for the conversation that follows by outlining the main points of Catholic belief concerning Mary, not to cover exhaustively the field of Mariology. My hope is that, by outlining these dogmas here, the reader will see that no dogma concerning Mary is defined for Mary’s sake, and that all Mariological claims should in fact illuminate Christological claims (or, according to Benedict XVI, Christological and Ecclesiological claims). That is, dogmas concerning Mary certainly point to the Virgin, but at the same time they must always look past her, toward her Son Jesus.

There’s Something About Mary, Part 1

Methodists (technically my people), or Protestants in general for that matter, tend to be somewhat suspicious of Mary. They certainly enjoy seeing her in the manger scene around Christmas, and occasionally she will pop up in various self-help books that instruct Christian women in their vocations of motherhood, but otherwise they are suspicious. Generally speaking (and I do mean generally), Protestants see the Roman Catholic (or Orthodox) attitude toward Mary as flirting with idolatry. That is, they fear that Mary is being worshipped alongside Jesus, and in response to this perception, they abandon any discussion of Mary in their theology, other than, “She gave birth to Jesus.”

As one who was from an early age raised in various Protestant churches, I have to admit that I have in the past shared the stereotypical Protestant concern that Catholics are dangerously close to goddess worship. I would be lying if I said that Mary didn’t still make me a bit nervous, at least some of the time.

As I begin my fourth year of study at a Catholic university, however, I have to say that my openness to Mary’s place in Christian Theology has undergone a drastic shift. I remain hesitant concerning some points of Mariology (such as ascribing to Mary the title of co-redemptrix) but by and large I’ve come to see that Theology without Mariology lacks a certain dynamism. It is, in a word, anemic. Moreover, Theology without Mariology can only happen if one chooses to ignore a fairly large portion (1600 years, conservatively speaking) of Church history.

I’ve titled this post “There’s Something About Mary, Part 1″ because I hope that it will be the first part of a small series of reflections on Mary and her place in Christian Theology. My Protestant brethren will likely say to this, “Well, the Catholics finally got to him,” which might not be terribly far from the truth, as far as this particular issue is concerned.

In the posts that follow on this topic, I hope to address (at least):

1. A summary of Catholic dogma and doctrine concerning Mary
2. The canonical witnesses to Mary’s role in the incarnation
3. The deutero-canonical witnesses to Mary’s role in the incarnation (especially the infancy gospels of James and Matthew)
4. The creedal witnesses to Mary

For now, I leave you with a link to a recent speech by Pope Benedict XVI on the topic, which my friend and colleague Anne Carpenter was kind enough to throw in my direction. As usual, I find the Pope’s words to be elegant, clear and erudite, regardless of whether or not I agree with him on every point.

Click here for the speech.

Proper 23, Year C – 20th Sunday After Pentecost

The Gospel reading for Sunday, October 10, 2010 (translation mine).

Luke 17:11-19

(11) And when he was going to Jerusalem, he was passing through the midst of Samaria and Galilee. (12) Having entered into a certain village, ten leprous men, who had been standing at a distance, came to him. (13) And they took up their voice saying, “Jesus, Master (Ἰησοῦ ἐπιστάτα), have mercy on us.” (14) And seeing them, he said to them, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And it happened as they were going that they were cleansed (ἐκαθαρίσθησαν). (15) One of them, seeing that he had been healed (ἰάθη), returned with a great noise, glorifying God. (16) And he fell upon his face at his [Jesus'] feet, thanking him. He [the leper] was a Samaritan. (17) And Jesus, answering him, said, “Were not ten cleansed? But where are the [other] nine? (18) Were they [the others] not found returning to give glory to God except this foreigner?” (19) And he [Jesus] said to him, “Get up and go. Your faith has saved (σέσωκέν) you.”

On his way to Jerusalem, Jesus must pass through Samaria, a region sandwiched between Galilee and Judea. In order to understand the significance of the Samaritans in the gospels, one must understand the stigma that was attached to them in the first century. They were Jews by self-definition, but they upheld Shechem, not Jerusalem, as the “true” holy place. The Samaritans were despised by many in Jerusalem, who considered them to be syncretistic, disobedient half-breeds. Ancient readers of this gospel story may have thus been been surprised at the way in which the Samaritan leper is portrayed. Granted, one may argue that all of the lepers are probably Samaritans, as that is where this episode occurs, but the reader is encouraged to pay special attention to the Samaritan identity of the leper who returns to Jesus after he is healed.

Notably, all ten of the lepers come to Jesus for help, presumably because all of them believe that he is capable of helping them. Collectively, they address Jesus as ἐπιστάτα, a title that, in terms of the NT, is unique to Luke (The title also pops up from time to time in the Septuagint. See LXX Ex 1:11; 5:14; 1 Kings 2:35; 5:30; 2 Kings 25:19; 2 Chr 2:1; 31:12; 1 Esdr 1:8; Judith 2:14; 2 Mac 5:22; Jer 36:26; 52:25). In terms of this story, it is curious that the lepers refer to Jesus in this way, not only because the title is rare in the NT, but because in Luke, it is exclusively used by the disciples in reference to Jesus (Luke 5:5; 8:24, 45; 9:33, 49). That the lepers refer to Jesus as ἐπιστάτα implies, not that they are de facto members of Jesus’ inner circle, but that they are capable of confessing Jesus’ lordship alongside the disciples.

When Jesus sees them and hears their plea for mercy, he instructs them to go and show themselves to the priests. There is no followup such as, “…and then you’ll be healed.” The instruction is simply, “G0.” An interesting question, to which I don’t necessarily have an answer, is the identity of the priests to which Jesus refers. That is, are these the Samaritan priests of Shechem or are they priests of the temple in Jerusalem? In terms of geography (remember, they’re in Samaria), the former option (Shechem) would make more sense! Nevertheless, in response to Jesus’ command, “Go,” the lepers are obedient.

As the lepers are on their way, the narrator informs us that one of them realized that he had been healed. Presumably, the others have been healed as well, but that is not made explicit in the episode. The one who does realize that he is healed breaks off from the group and makes his way back to Jesus with a loud noise. Notice two things about this one who returns. First, obviously, he is the only one of the ten who turns back to Jesus after being healed. Presumably, the others are still en route to see the priests (although perhaps they simply went back to doing something else). Second, and related to the first, in his breaking away from the larger group, this leper becomes the only one of the ten who doesn’t continue doing what Jesus told him to do in the first place (go show yourselves to the priests).

If all ten lepers were healed, which we have no reason to doubt in terms of the narrative, then it is quite striking that only one of them returns to the one who set them on the road to such healing (so to speak). The story encourages us to see that the work of the Kingdom of God is well underway, and that such work does not necessarily have to be acknowledged as such in order to be effected. That is, the nine lepers who did not return to acknowledge Jesus as the source of their healing did not necessarily lose their status as “clean.” We’re not really sure what happened to them. Despite their unwillingness to acknowledge it as such, however, the work of the Kingdom was visible in their bodies.

For the one who did return, however, Jesus gives him a further command in response to his praise. He again tells him, “Go,” but this time the command is followed by something else. Jesus tells the man that his faith (πίστις) has saved (σέσωκεν) him. The translation of σέσωκεν, for whatever reason, is often flattened in modern translations. In the RSV and NRSV, for example, the translators chose to continue the theme of bodily healing, and thus we read, “your faith has made you well” (Luke 17:19). The use of this term here, however, in contrast to the verbs involving bodily cleansing found earlier (ἐκαθαρίσθησαν, ἰάθη), implies that the leper who comes back receives not only a healing of his body, but a healing of his soul as well. It is, as it were, a holistic healing.

All of the lepers confessed, at the very least, that Jesus was capable of doing something about their bodily conditions. All of the lepers, furthermore, did what Jesus commanded. As a result, the power of the inbreaking Kingdom was made manifest in them. However, at this point, when all had been made well, nine of them failed to return to the source of their healing. For the one who did return, however, the work of the Kingdom continued to bear fruit.