The Other Samaritan

“And He said to him, “Stand up and go; your faith has made you well.” Luke 17:19 NASB

Made you well – “Look! Look at my hands! Look at my feet! It’s gone. I’m clean.” Yitzhak jumped the ditch, throwing his arms in the air.

“Praise God! Praise God!” Two men in the group began to dance, kicking up the dust.

Clapping Yoav on the back, one of the others shouted, “Come on, come on. Let’s hurry. I want to get home to my wife.” Tears were streaming down his face.

“Wait! Wait! We have to go back!” It was Mansur, the only one of the group from outside Israel.

The others paid no attention. They surged forward, bumping into each other as they hurried toward the synagogue.

Mansur grabbed two of them, pulling them to a halt. All the eyes turned toward him.

“What’s the matter with you? Didn’t you hear what he said? ‘Go to the priest.’ ‘Go show yourself to the priest.'”

Mansur defended himself. “Yes, I know that’s what he said. And we’ll do it. But look at us. Look at yourself, Yitzhak! We’re all clean. We have to go back to thank him. Then we can go to the priest.”

“Listen, my friend. When I got leprosy, my whole life was destroyed. Not just my body. I mean everything. I lost my family, my reputation, my heritage. If you think I’m going to jeopardize that now by going back when he said to go to the priest, you’re crazy. I’m going to the Synagogue!”

Mansur knew the truth of Yitzhak’s words. When he was cursed to live this slow death, he learned to fear something even worse than rotting skin. Humiliation. He was shamed to think that somehow God brought this horrible curse on him. He remembered going over every selfish act, begging God to forgive him and take away this torment. Years ago he had given up that worthless effort. Until today, he was just garbage. Until today. Today life suddenly turned completely upside down again.

“Mansur, you know the Law. We all do. That’s why the Rabbi quoted Moses. Go present yourself to the priest. We don’t have time to go back now.”

The Torah. Perhaps the only sacred thing they all shared. Mansur was a Samaritan. The other nine were Jews. If it had not been for the rotting skin, they would surely never have crossed the road to speak to each other. But affliction made them comrades in misery. They shared pain and humiliation and despair – and the Law.

According to the Law, only the priest could pronounce the words they longed to hear. “You are clean.” All ten of them were outcasts, living in the shadow world, unable to approach loved ones, neighbors, and kinsmen until the priest said, “Clean.” Mansur looked at his hands. The skin was perfect.

“Look at yourselves. Look! We’re already clean. The priest will see that.” He pointed to each man. “All of us. We’re clean! Of course, we’ll go to the priest. But the priest didn’t do this. It was that man. How can we go on now without thanking him first? We are free of the curse. We can be men again.”

“Listen, Samaritan.” The words slammed into Mansur like a sledgehammer. He stopped in his tracks. No one had called him that in all the years that they sheltered each other from the specter of death.

“You want to go back? Then go back. You don’t even worship at our synagogue. They wouldn’t let you in. You’re not one of us. Just because you’re healed doesn’t mean you’re a Jew. So go. Go away!”

Mansur couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He and Yoav used to huddle together for warmth. He had kicked away the dogs from Yoav’s rotting body. Now he was being treated as if he were still a leper.

“Go back where you belong. You can’t come with us. You’re not like us now.” The nine moved as a single man, distancing themselves from the Samaritan. “Don’t follow us,” one shouted. “You don’t belong here anymore.” Mansur watched them disappear toward the city in a dusty cloud.

He could hardly breathe. This miracle of healing had only revealed a deeper sickness. The outside was clean, no doubt, but the inside was still festering and infected. Slowly he straightened up. “I must go back. I will go back,” he thought.

The joy of the cure brought unexpected condemnation. Mansur felt as though he were healed and cursed at the same time.

Then he felt something else. His steps were light. The muscles worked. He felt wind on his face. He scooped up a handful of loose stones. He could feel them, their texture, their shapes. It was wonderful. And without realizing it, he began to sing. It was an old song, one his family passed down for generations. A song of praise to the unspoken Name of the Most High. His voice became louder, stronger. He added new verses to the praise. Praise for the smell of the grass, the feel of the soil, the sound of the birds. Praise for breath, for walking without pain, for touching. May the Most High be praised.

In the distance, Mansur saw the Rabbi approaching with his band of travelers. He couldn’t hold back. He ran! What a joy it was to run! What incredible, inexpressible joy to feel the earth beneath his feet, the ache in his lungs, the sweat on his forehead. He loved it. “Thank the Great One. I am free,” he said to himself between gasping breaths.

He burst through the group around the Rabbi and fell to the ground in front of Yeshua. The small crowd stepped back.

Mansur did not look up. He spoke to the ground. “Rabbi, God be praised. He has done a great work through you. I’m clean. May God be glorified, Rabbi. Thanks be to Him.”

The Rabbi spoke softly to him saying, “I remember ten of you were cleansed. Where are the other nine?” Then he raised his voice to the group. “Have none returned to give glory to God except this foreigner?”

Mansur wept with joy. Tears dropped from forming tiny craters in the dust of the road.

The Rabbi reached out his hand and placed it on Mansur’s head. Mansur turned his eyes up to meet the eyes of the healer. There were tears in those eyes too.

“Rise up. Go on now. Your faith has delivered you.” Then the Master knelt down and whispered into Mansur’s ear. “Welcome home, my friend. You are a stranger no more.”

Mansur stood. The Rabbi embraced him, then let him go. But Mansur could not go on. He would go to the priest as the Rabbi instructed. But he knew he would be back, following in the footsteps of this man who mingled tears of compassion with tears of thanksgiving.

A Note: Yeshua’s conversation with the healed leper reveals several important elements in the story. The only one who returned was the one who was considered an outcast in Jewish society, not only because of his leprosy but also because of his ancestry. Just like the parable of the Good Samaritan, the impact of a Samaritan returning in thanksgiving must have shocked the crowd of Jews. In addition, the Greek text uses the verb sozo in the phrase “Your faith has made you well.” This word covers a range of meanings including rescue from death and salvation. The Samaritan leper experienced more than physical healing. He is granted a look into the depths of God’s heart of compassion and in that look he sees deliverance found in thankfulness.

Topical Index: saved, well, sozo, Luke 17:19