28th Sunday OT
The benefits of gratitude are obvious: a deep humility and a graced clarity in seeing God's blessings. When we give God thanks and praise for His abundant goodness, we reinforce the central truth of our being: we are made from dirt and divine breath. As dirt, we are not worthy of His notice. As divine breath, we are made worthy to participate in the life of the Trinity. Humility is the good habit of living as dirt made worthy of divinity. And gratitude keeps us honest. If the benefits of gratitude are obvious, can we say that the perils of ingratitude are obvious as well? They should be. But there's something about us that tempts us to believe that all that we are and all that we have is ours by right, or ours by hard work, or ours by clever invention. This idol is praised everyday in the market, the office, our school and universities, our sports arenas. It seems as though we begin with the idea that we are blessed or cursed to the degree that we are busy getting more, having more, accumulating more. And what's worse, we seem to think that all that More makes us better – wiser, holier, stronger, just. . .better overall. I think of Flannery O'Connor's Ruby Turpin* who says, “You have to have things to know things.”
To break this idolatrous spell, we turn to our Gospel scene. Jesus is met by ten lepers in a village. They beg him for pity. He heals all ten. Only one returns to give God – Jesus – thanks. He asks the fateful question: “I healed ten. Where are the other nine?” Apparently, the other nine think their renewed health is an entitlement, a miracle they received as a right. Jesus tells the lone, grateful former-leper that his faith has saved him. The other nine? Not so much. NB. the connection Jesus makes between gratitude and salvation. The act of returning to Jesus to say a simple Thank You is enough to bring this man into the Holy Family of the Father. Everything he is right now and everything he has right now is a freely offered gift from God. He received it all as a gift with praise and thanksgiving. He was not owed healing. He didn't earn healing. He didn't borrow it or steal it. He humbly took it from the hands of Christ, went to the priests as commanded, and then returned, “glorifying God in a loud voice; and he fell at the feet of Jesus and thanked him.” Maybe Mrs. Turpin is right. You have to have things to know things. But having things must teach us humility and gratitude.
The idol of ingratitude seems to thrive on the idea that if I don't think of my things as mine first, I will lose them. Or if I don't think of myself as mine first, I might end up a slave to someone else. The problem here is that – as a follower of Christ – nothing is truly mine. Not my stuff, not even me. This truth is expressed for religious in our vows of poverty and obedience. What about all of you “just normal Catholics”? Well, you aren't immune to the effects of ingratitude. And you reap the benefits of giving God thanks and praise! You can find humility in living your marriage vows. Your spouse is given to you as a help in gaining heaven. You can find humility in raising your children in the faith by example. They are given to you as a help in growing in patience and strength. Children, you can grow in humility by being a help to your parents and siblings. Do you say “thank you” to mom, dad, brother, sister? You depend on them, so be grateful! Whatever your state in life, there is someone or something there to goad you toward humility. A co-worker? A classmate? A professor or teacher? A student? That middle-aged guy in the red Miata that cuts you off every morning on the commute to work? If you look, you will find abundant reasons to give God thanks and praise. If you cannot see these reasons, ask God to heal your blindness.
Mrs. Turpin is a haughty, middle-class white Southern woman, living in the late 1950's. She's an unrepentant racist, a snob, a gossip, and, according to a college girl at her doctor's office, “a warthog from hell.” That college girl hits Ruby in the face with a textbook. She deserves it. But that textbook and her new status as a warthog push her to contemplate her pride. While hosing down her hogs on the farm, Ruby has a revelation. A vision. She sees everyone – even those she thinks unworthy – rising to heaven on a bridge of light. And she knows – it is all a gift. It has nothing to do with race or property or cleanliness or good manners or being law-abiding or having or knowing. It's all about taking in what God gives and giving Him thanks and praise. Ms. Ruby, her story ends in shocked gratitude.
