Leviticus is an uncommon choice for the Mass lectionary, but today’s selection has a direct connection with the Gospel story about the healing of a leper.
To understand something of this man’s situation, we have to understand the status of leprosy in ancient Israel. It was more than just a neurological disease affecting one’s outward appearance; it represented a necessary break from common life, including the life of worship in the Temple. To be a leper was a tragic, isolating experience. As such, it has often been viewed as a symbol of sin—not that, even in ancient Israel, it was viewed as a moral affliction in itself, but its infectious disfigurement is a profound analogy for the way that sin disfigures the human person and cuts him off from fellowship with God and neighbor.
To think about leprosy in this way leads us to wonder if there is some modern equivalent or analogy. Progressive Christians have a habit of asserting that this is how we ought to think about morally objectionable states of life. We should get rid of this concept of “uncleanness” once and for all, they say, privileging instead a concept of unconditional welcome and acceptance. So we have even very high-ranking prelates who cannot be bothered to describe things as moral or immoral; we have only regular and irregular, as if the habitual practice of mortal sin should be imagined as no more significant than filling out the wrong form at the DMV.
The trouble with this view is twofold. First, even if leprosy itself wasn’t morally objectionable, it was still dangerous. St. Damien of Molokai’s death in 1889, as what we sometimes call a “martyr of charity,” is a testament to the fact that leprosy is no joke; he knew quite well that the leper colony in Hawaii needed and deserved his love and pastoral care, but I don’t think he ever imagined that this made him safe. Second, if we look to the example of our Lord, his response to leprosy, more than once, isn’t to say, “Oh, hey, you’re fine as you are, go and be well!” No, he heals the disease. Indeed, in our story today, he asks the healed man to follow the procedures of the law to make sure he is reconciled to the community through the judgment of the priest.
So I think we should be wary of associating leprosy too closely with any modern controversial state of life. Surely the closest thing, in practical terms, is our recent memory of COVID. There we faced a culture of “clean” and “unclean” in more ways than one. Although no one that I can think of ever labeled the virus as a moral sickness, it became in many places an adjacent moral issue. In other words, the decision to wear a mask or not became a sign, depending on whom you were with, of you being on the side of the good guys or the bad guys. People were shunned or publicly pilloried for either their lack of seriousness about the virus or their overreaction to it.
And I think what we saw—and, frankly, what we still see—with COVID is symptomatic of a broader culture that defines itself in terms of “clean” and “unclean.” We don’t use those words. No one wants to really use those words, even if we use various other words that mean the same thing. But the ideology of “taint” is all over the place.
There is a difference between a principled objection to a thing and thinking that seeing it, or being near it without throwing a fit, is somehow sinful. Never mind that a lot of people think they do not believe in sin. But seeing something, being able to process it and understand why it is bad, or worthy of our pity, is part of the moral development of us and our children. And this is where I think our Lord—and, again, St. Damien—can show us that there is a way of being compassionate without denying the presence of something evil, whether it’s natural disease or immorality. The leper needs healing. What some of our modern interlocutors do not seem to grasp is that the leper approaches Jesus with this specific desire. He doesn’t want Jesus to just affirm him as he is. He wants to be made whole.
The whole concept of healing—wanting it, requesting it, lacking it—requires a rational order in which there really are intrinsic goods that should be valued. The principal reason that some of the big popular causes—like “reproductive health” or “gender-affirming care”—are so false is that their concept of good and healing are completely cut off from any objective content apart from what an individual perceives to be good and real. Modern popular medicine would, if it were at all consistent with itself, demand that we “affirm” the leper and treat his disease as simply one equally valid approach to the human nervous system; we might as well go to the next stage and “affirm” the neo-Nazi who thinks that all races other than his own should be annihilated. That we are not allowed to make these comparisons in public without weeping and gnashing of teeth is a testament to our chronic inability as a culture to be rational.
St. Paul tells us that we should avoid giving offense. He also tells us to imitate him as he imitates Christ, and neither he nor Christ is exactly known for never having offended anyone. So this isn’t some blanket theology of niceness, as if all disagreements can be solved by a frozen casserole and a nonverbal like on Facebook. He has to mean something, though. Let’s not take the easy way out and imagine that his words are completely without challenge for us. The key goal isn’t niceness for its own sake, but the greater end of saving souls.
Above, I painted a picture of nonrepentance — symbolized by the leper who thinks leprosy is the new normal. That can be disturbing, to say the least, and it’s fair to say that we’re bombarded with this attitude on a daily basis, whether from politicians or celebrities or people we see at school or work or the grocery store. But it’s not the whole picture. The fact that there are some loud lepers out there demanding that we all celebrate Leprosy Pride Month doesn’t mean that there aren’t plenty of others who think this is all nonsense and want the grace of God to help them in their struggle, whatever it is.
This in particular is where we need to take Paul’s advice, and our Lord’s example, seriously. Maybe we aren’t all called to go, like St. Damien of Molokai, to live in the leper colony. But we meet all sorts of people, people whom popular culture would want us to categorize and sort into clean and unclean, our sort of people or not our sort of people. That’s nonsense, too, because our sort of people, according Paul just a little earlier in 1 Corinthians, include “the immoral, idolaters, adulterers, sexual perverts, thieves, the greedy, drunkards, revilers, and robbers.” That’s quite the list, but, says the Apostle, “Such were some of you” (1 Cor 6:9-11). Emphasis on were, because the point of the passage is that these behaviors have no place in the kingdom of God. But we all have to start somewhere, and usually the best place to start is where we are.
Perhaps that’s where I should end, too: with a reminder that all these thoughts on lepers aren’t just about “us” and “them.” Sure, we need to think carefully about how to follow our Lord’s proclamation of the good news. But we always have to remember to hear that call ourselves. What healing do I need? Do I even recognize the places where I need healing?
As we head into Lent, there’s really no time like the present for a checkup. And let the healing of the sacraments help us all to better meet the world’s hurting people and bring them to Jesus.