The Rev. Carol S. Wedell
October 14, 2007

One evening a man was taking a stroll down the sidewalk in his neighborhood. As he walked along, all of a sudden a rubber ball bounced over a fence and landed at his feet. As he picked it up, a little girl came running toward him and stuck out her hand, obviously wanting her ball back. The man looked at her and said, "Well, what's the magic word?" With a frown on her face, the child bellowed, "Now!"

From the earliest age we teach our children "magic words" - please, sorry, thank you.  We prompt them at every possible occasion, trying to instill basic civility and hoping to raise a person that is enjoyable to be around.  From the time they can print their name we have them write thank you notes for Christmas and birthday gifts. (If your house is anything like mine, this is not a most-favored activity!)

Some children respond wholeheartedly with thanksgiving for gifts received or favors done.  Others do well to mumble a quiet "thanks."  In my experience, those who are most genuinely thankful are the children who do not have expectations that they'll get everything they see.  They don't think they are entitled.

My son told me about a study done observing young children in toy stores.  Guess where the loudest tantrums occur?  In the front of the store, by the exit doors.  Perhaps it's because they have an audience and so think their parents might give in.   Perhaps they know it's now or never, so they are more likely to beg, whine or cry for a toy there than elsewhere in the store. 

As Scott told me about this study, I responded, "You never did that - and it wasn't that you didn't throw tantrums!  But then again, when we went to buy a present for another child, I never bought you anything.  So you didn't expect it."  Then I started to laugh and remembered where he did expect something - and what happened if that expectation wasn't fulfilled.  When he was a toddler, our local grocery store gave each child a free cookie.  My way of making it through the grocery store with a young child was the not-so-subtle "bribe" of that cookie.  One day we were in a different grocery store that didn't have the same policy.  Let's just say it wasn't a pretty picture!

To be fair, children are not the only ones who sometimes act "entitled."  We've all seen adults who think they shouldn't have to wait in the same line as everyone else, who act as if the world owes them something. 

If we're honest, I would guess that most of us feel entitled in some ways.  We assume that we have the right to clothing, food, medical care, housing, transportation and employment.  We may also believe that we've worked hard and so deserve many of the luxuries we splurge on. I would guess that we also feel entitled to many non-materials things - the love of a parent, the fidelity of a spouse, or the loyalty of a friend, to name just a few.

One of the difficulties with a sense of entitlement is that since we think we deserve whatever it is -- we may take those things for granted.  We may miss the real gift we have been given - or worse still, may lose a valuable connection with the one who gives us the gift.

Our gospel lesson this morning makes the point.  Somewhere between Samaria and Galilee, Jesus enters a town.  Ten lepers see Jesus.  Whether they had leprosy as we now describe it, or whether it was any one of a number of skin diseases, these ten people were forced to live on the fringe of society.  They were ostracized in every possible way from the community.  They couldn't eat or talk or worship with family members or friends. 

Knowing the rules, they did not run up to Jesus, as so many others did.  No, they yelled from a distance, "Jesus, Master - have mercy on us!"  Without touching them, without any comment on how they came to find themselves in this situation, Jesus simply instructs them to go and show themselves to the priests.  And all ten go - no questions asked.

It's important to know that the only ones who could admit you back into the community of faith if you were healed were the Temple priests.  So even before they are healed, these ten lepers head out - following Jesus' directions.  And on their way, they became clean.

I'm not sure any of us can fully appreciate how life-changing that would be.  These ten people had a visible, likely disfiguring disease.  Now, as they do what Jesus' asks, they find themselves restored to health and more.  They are not only healthy, but once they have seen the priests and been "certified" clean, they can return to their family, to their community, no longer outcasts.  I'm guessing they tore off as fast as they could to get their "official" clean bill of health.

But one - a Samaritan - did not race off to the priests. Maybe it was because as a Samaritan, he would have remained an outcast.  Maybe it was because no Jewish priest would have had anything to do with him.  We don't know. 

What we do know is that when he realized that this horrible disease was gone, he was so overwhelmed with gratitude that he ignored Jesus' instructions and raced back.  He fell at Jesus' feet and poured out a heart full of thanks.  Luke tells us that Jesus responded, "Were not ten made clean?  Where are the other nine?"  Then looking at the one at his feet, he says, "Get up.  On your way.  Your faith has healed and saved you." (The Message, Luke 17:19).

All ten were healed of their leprosy.  Only one, an outsider, no less, returns to thank the giver.  Only one sees Jesus for who he is, and opens himself up to a relationship.  His open-hearted gratitude connects him to Jesus.  He is not only healed, but made whole in all ways - because he has seen Jesus and fallen at his feet in worship and praise.

Now in fairness, the other nine are simply doing what Jesus told them to do - heading off to be certified "clean" by the priest.  They followed the rules.  The total outsider who returned, however, followed his heart.  He did not take the gift or the giver for granted.

It's not too difficult to get the point that Jesus would like for us to be like that Samaritan.   Jesus desires us to see the giver behind all gifts of healing and wholeness.  Jesus wants our grateful hearts to open us to a deep and growing relationship with him.  We get that.

The problem is that for many of us, we don't always live lives that are marked by thanksgiving and gratitude.  Perhaps busyness has crowded it out.  Perhaps our days are so marked by anxiety and stress that gratitude has a hard way finding its way in. 

Sometimes, a major life event opens our eyes.  My run-in with cancer last spring certainly was a wake up call for me.  Coming home from the hospital knowing that the cancer was gone was overwhelmingly good news.  I felt gratitude beyond measure - to God, to all of you, to my family, to my medical team.  So good, in fact, that when I went through the pile of mail that had accumulated and found a less than pleasant letter from the IRS, I really wasn't phased by it.  Gratitude for the gift of life easily trumped the possibility of a large, unexpected tax bill.

But as the weeks and months have gone by, "life" has snuck up on me.  And I've found myself once again sucked into a too-busy schedule, once again taking for granted health and family and friends and life itself.  I'm fairly sure that I'm not the only one who has fallen into this trap.  The problem isn't just the lack of gratitude itself - which isn't a small thing. 

Here's what we miss:  when our eyes fail to see the graciousness of the giver, the relationship is diminished.  When you or I fail to see God's love expressed in the hug of a child or the beauty of the moonrise or the soaking rain, we aren't as close to God as when we do see all we've been given are undeserved, unbelievable gifts.  While the big things may open our eyes, if we learn to see the small, every day gifts that God gives to us, we also learn to see the giver.

We need to learn to pay attention.  John Killinger tells of a little girl who had worked all afternoon making a special picture for her daddy -- well, maybe it was only half an hour, but it seemed to her that it was all afternoon.   When he came in from work he glanced at it, and said, "Sure, honey, it's nice," and proceeded to tell his wife what a rotten day it had been. Disappointed, the little girl retreated to her room. At dinner, she sat quietly, picking at her food, and then asked to be excused. Her mother did the dishes, went to tuck the little girl into bed, and returned to the den, where the father was reviewing some papers for the next day. "Megan prayed for you tonight," said the mother. "She prayed, 'Please let daddy see me again.'" And daddy got up from his chair, climbed the steps to the little girl's room, and fell on his knees by her bed. Clasping her in his arms, he held her until his warm tears had wet both their cheeks, and he cried, "Daddy sees you again, honey, daddy sees you again!" (www.goodpreacher.com)

We're invited to see God again.  To pause and take the time to see the many ways that God is present in our lives.  This is one of those many times when our mothers may have been right.  We need to practice saying, "thank you," - otherwise, other things will crowd out the gratitude from our lives. 

For about a year, I made a practice of taking time each night to write down 10 things that had occurred that day for which I was thankful.  Sometimes I fell back on the easy ones - family, friends, etc...  But as the days went on, I found even the smallest things would make me view the day differently - a smile from a cashier at the store, watching a child laugh with her mother, a hug from an otherwise aloof teenager. One June day several years ago, my list included "an easy going day, a good meeting, a solid outline for a sermon, a long conversation with Mark, time to read, the kids getting along." 

As I "practiced" being thankful my relationship with God opened up, as I saw God's hand at work in every minute of every day. As Catholic priest, John Aurelio says, "All of us have experienced times in our lives that were so precious and special that if it were possible we would have had time stand still so we might live that moment forever.  A good time is a taste of God." (Spiritual Literacy, p. 185).

Whether or not you choose to write down your list, I commend this practice to you.  It could be five things in the morning and five at night.  Candidly, the number isn't what matters.  The practice is.

Another possible practice is one suggested by preacher Elton Trueblood:  "I find that the one thing which I want to put into practice in my own life is the conscious and deliberate habit of finding somebody to thank."(Spiritual Literacy, p. 185).   Can you imagine how different our lives would be if the words "thank you" were more liberally shared?  As gratitude opens our eyes and hearts, we see God's presence in others and "thank you" flows more easily from our lips.

Medieval Christian mystic Meister Eckhart suggests that if "thank you" is the only prayer we ever utter, it will be enough.   May those word echo on our lips this day!