Good grief, what is more antithetic to the notion of glory
than a withered and ravaged human body? A withered and
ravaged human life. What was left for the leprous man when
he discovered the rash on his body, the first faint warnings
of future devastation and isolation?
Until one day, hope knocked at the door of his heart. He
heard people speak of a prophet, a healer, someone who could
make a body whole again. Could he snatch at this hope? Was
it for him? This man, Jesus, this prophet, did he care about
the castoffs of his world?
He would try. He would make his way through that crowd,
ringing the bell, seeing the people shrink away, knowing that
they wanted nothing of him but distance, knowing they
would feel only relief if he should waste into death from his
disease.
“Lord!” His croak of a voice calls from a safe distance.
“Lord, if you want to . . .” Meaning: Lord, if you care enough.
Do you care? Do I matter enough for you to squander your
power on me?
“You can make me clean.” That is not the issue. I know you
can do it. Whether you want to do it for me is the question. “You
can make me clean if you think I am worth your trouble.”
Jesus walks to him. The man looks up at the Lord, and
what does he see? Dare he hope?
He sees the glory of God in human eyes. He sees deep,
deep wells of understanding and compassion. His heart is throbbing. He locks onto the gaze of Jesus. He feels—
incredibly—the hand of Jesus on his head. The hand on his
leprous head.
“I do want to. Be made clean.” Look, I give you back a place,
a family, respectability. I give you back the give-and-take of
love. I give you back yourself.

Sr. Miriam Pollard