Photo by Twenty-Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time
In the summer of 1969, I watched Neil Armstrong walk on the moon on TV. Yes, I am that old. Not long after, I had in my possession an Apollo 11 lunchbox. And those dramatic pictures of earth taken from space by astronauts aboard the command module completely captured my imagination. Looking at those pictures, I recognized the shapes of land masses and oceans from maps I had studied in geography. I had a picture of what Africa would look like from space, and Australia, and Madagascar, and Japan, the Indian subcontinent, the Iberian Peninsula, Scandinavia, and the boot of Italy. I knew just where to find the Himalayas, the Sahara, the Mediterranean, and the Amazon, the Cape of Good Hope, the Black Sea, and the Hawaiian islands. I knew Antarctica would be a sheet of ice, and was not surprised that so was Greenland, in contrast to the deep greens and browns of other continents. I was fascinated by the cloud patterns as seen from space, feathery cirrus clouds, puffy cumulus clouds, and the swirling vortices of hurricanes and cyclones. The near perfect sphere of the planet enveloped in a protective blue haze mesmerized me, a blue marble we call earth against the backdrop of deep dark endless space. I wasted time just staring at that image, wondering about the billions of people who inhabited the planet, wondering about the rise and fall of kings and queens, of popes and presidents, of nations and empires and dynasties, wondering about the countless wars and armed conflicts people continue to fight to settle border disputes and defend trade routes, thinking about the children born and the people dying on any given day or hour or minute, wondering if this was just what God saw when God looked on our world. Then Bette Midler came singing that hit song “From a Distance,” attempting to follow that other hit song “Wind Beneath My Wings.” We can admit now it was unbearably sentimental, but have you listened to the lyrics? I did, and I didn’t like it, because I was reminded of that image of earth against the deep darkness of endless space. She sang, “God is watching us … from a distance.” And I thought, nnaaaahhhh! God isn’t watching us from a distance. God is so much closer, right in our midst, even in our hearts. And yet, we have this unfortunate tendency of thinking and saying and doing things contrary to that truth. If God is much closer, right in our midst and in our hearts, we will need to adjust the way we think and speak and act. Or we can park God at a more comfortable distance which would make Bette Midler right, that God has no choice but to watch us from a distance.
Today we read about lepers and Samaritans and gentiles. What do they have in common? In Jewish society, they belonged to that segment of humanity considered as outsiders, denied a share in Israel’s heritage. Of course there were others considered outsiders as well, tax collectors who were despised as agents of the oppressive foreign power, prostitutes and public sinners who had little regard for the Law but were not beyond its reach, and righteous gentiles who for no fault of their own had no clue what they were missing, although some were honest, hardworking people, public officials, soldiers, and merchants. These distinctions reflected Jewish society’s perception of an individual’s worth, which related to their standing before the law and consequently, before God. Yet scripture reminds us God doesn’t just go along with popular opinion.
Naaman was a high official in the court of a pagan king, sent to procure from the prophet Elisha a cure for his illness. We are told he had leprosy, although the term then included a host of other ailments, skin rashes, discolorations, and what we today know as Hansen’s disease. The prophet sends him to bathe seven times in the Jordan. But Naaman was a proud and stubborn man and was royally insulted by the instruction. Why not bathe in the rivers of Damascus instead? But his servants pleaded with him to just get it over with. Eventually he does and is healed. Jesus later would point out to his listeners that God has no difficulty disregarding our often arbitrary distinctions. “There were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian.” Israel despised Naaman, a foreigner, a leper, and a high official serving a foreign power. That’s three strikes against him, according to popular opinion in his day. Yet God does not bestow his favor only on people we think to be deserving. God has very different standards than us entirely.
Ten lepers approached Jesus, and keeping a safe distance, begged to be healed. They were well aware of their outsider status, and of the law instructing them to live apart from decent society, to be readmitted only after rigorous examination by the proper authorities. But Jesus healed them all, as he might any sick person who asked. Among them was a Samaritan. Presumably, the nine others who were declared clean could return to their families and their former lives without further complications. But a Samaritan would always be an outsider. And when he returned to thank Jesus, Jesus recognized his faith and gave him the gift of salvation.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that human dignity is rooted in God himself in whose image and likeness we are created. Human dignity does not depend on skin color or the size of our bank account, not on our good deeds or our sins, not on whether others approve of us, not on our religion or our politics, or our lack of either, or anything else. The dignity of the human person is determined by God alone. That means in God’s eyes, no one is an outsider, no one is beyond God’s reach.
But despite us being law-abiding and God-fearing people, we can have great difficulty extending certain people the proper regard for their dignity given by God: religious extremists, child molesters, Jeffrey Epstein, politicians, partisans, and pundits. We would reserve for them the great distinction as outsiders and our harshest disdain. Yet the Word of God challenges us today to imitate the thinking and behavior of Jesus. It won’t come easy. Writing to Timothy, Paul says that Jesus Christ risen from the dead is the gospel he preaches, like a criminal to the point of chains. “But the Word of God is not chained.” We are disciples of Jesus Christ; we proclaim the resurrection; we cannot return to a life of not ever knowing Jesus Christ. And if God is truly in our midst and in our hearts, we cannot insist on treating one another as though God could care less. The world may look more peaceful and perfect from outer space, but God insists on getting his hands dirty.
A friend recently sent me an article in a local paper from a former parish about a Christian couple who denounced the church next door for welcoming the homeless. They were concerned about their property values going down. If Jesus’ words and example guided our attitudes and actions, we witness to God’s presence right here right now, and Bette Midler cannot be more wrong because God isn’t watching us from a distance.
Rolo B Castillo © 2025