(Sixth Sunday of the Year (B): This homily was given on February 11, 2024 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I., by Fr. Raymond Suriani. Read Leviticus 13:1-2, 44-46; Psalm 32:1-11; 1 Corinthians 10:31-11:1; Mark 1:40-45.)
[For the audio version of this homily, click here: Sixth Sunday 2024]
"If you will to do so, you can cure me."
That’s the translation of the first line of today’s gospel reading in the old New American Bible: "If you will to do so, you can cure me." 10 words. 1 short sentence. . .. Spoken almost two thousand years ago by a suffering leper in Palestine. And yet I would say that these words have an incredible relevance for us today in 2024—because what we have here, my brothers and sisters, is really a model prayer. In my humble estimation, these 10 little words convey to us the attitude that should be in our hearts whenever we go to the Lord with special needs—which is something that most of us probably do every day.
Consider,
first of all, the last four words of the sentence: "You can cure
me". Those words are packed with
faith, are they not? Those words convey
a deep and unwavering confidence. This
leper had no doubt whatsoever that Jesus Christ had the power to set him free
from the horrible disease that was killing him.
He believed in the Lord's ability to do what was otherwise
impossible. Is that the mindset we have
when we pray? When we go before the Lord
do we have confidence that Jesus can do the extraordinary? Or do we put limits on the Lord? Do we believe he can help some people but not
others? Do we believe he can forgive
everyone except us? Do we believe he can
forgive everyone except, perhaps, our enemies?
Do we believe he can heal only a certain segment of the population?
I remember giving a homily many years ago in which I spoke about two women who had recently experienced physical healings after I gave them the sacrament of the sick. The power of Jesus Christ present in the anointing restored them to health. After Mass the following Sunday a nurse from the parish came up to me and said, "Father, I’m glad you told those stories last week. Over the years I’ve found that a lot of Catholics don't take this sacrament very seriously. Sometimes I’ll say to a patient, ‘Would you like me to call in a priest so he can anoint you?' and the patient will say, 'Oh no, don't bother. It's not that important.'"
The leper in this story would never have reacted in that way. He would have wanted to be anointed, because he would have been convinced that the strength, and the forgiveness and the healing power of Jesus were available to him in and through the sacrament.
Now look at the first half of the leper's 10-word prayer: "If you will to do so". Here we have a man who was willing to place his problem totally and completely in the Lord's hands. He knew what Jesus could do—he knew what our Lord was capable of—but he didn't presume to know the perfect will of God in this situation. He realized that it might have been his time to leave this life and go home to the Lord. If it was, then he was willing to accept that fact, even though he wanted to be healed. His attitude was, "Lord Jesus, whatever YOU decide, I will accept. I won't write the script for you as to how to answer my prayer. I simply lift up my need to you; your will be done." This man obviously had a deep trust in his heart that Jesus would do what was best for him in the long run. Now that makes him quite different from all those people who like to give God orders when they pray. These people think they know exactly what God needs to do in a given situation, and when he doesn't follow every detail of the blueprint they've drawn up, they get angry with the Lord and accuse him of abandoning them. Perhaps we've all embraced that attitude at one time or another. Or at least we've been tempted to embrace it.
I think this leper knew that we human beings don't always know what's best for us in the long run. We think we do, but we don't. I was reminded of that once when a woman told me about a prayer she used to say for her daughter. She said the prayer over and over again for many, many years without ever getting the answer she wanted. But she told me that eventually she became glad and grateful that the prayer wasn't answered according to her blueprint, because she realized that everything had worked out for the best. Then she quoted the refrain of an old song by country music singer Garth Brooks. I’m sure many of you have heard the words of this song before. They make it clear that God sees things differently than we do, and that he knows what’s best for us in the long run. I’ll conclude my homily today with his words. (Don’t worry, I won’t torture you by trying to sing them!) …
Just the other night at a hometown football game, my wife and I ran into my old high school flame. And as I introduced them the past came back to me, and I couldn't help but think of the way things used to be.
She was the one that I’d wanted for all times, and each night I’d spend praying that God would make her mine. And if he'd only grant me this wish I wished back then, I’d never ask for anything again.
Well she wasn't quite the angel that I remembered in my dreams, and I could tell that time had changed me in her eyes too, it seemed. We tried to talk about the old days—there wasn't much we could recall—I guess the Lord knows what he's doing after all. And as I walked away, I looked at my wife, and then and there I thanked the good Lord for the gifts in my life.
Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers. Remember when you're talking to the man upstairs, that just because he may not answer doesn't mean he don't care, some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered . . . Some of God's greatest gifts are all too often unanswered . . . Some of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers.
"If you will to do so, you can cure me." May those words of confidence and trust serve as a model for every intention that we bring to Jesus in prayer from this day forward.
