October 12, 2025

All Broken, All Made Whole, All Rejoicing

Today is Access Sunday, and the beginning of Disability Awareness Week.  It’s a date on the calendar that doesn’t exactly jump out at you like Halloween or Thanksgiving.  I have to confess, my eyes initially just skipped along without it even registering.  But, the more I turned it over in my head, the more I realized this day isn’t about someone else; it’s about me.  And that cast our lectionary readings for this morning in a whole different hue.

The first thing I encountered was this passage from Luke, where Jesus heals the ten lepers, but only one returns to offer praise for the miracle.  It occurred to me that the nine who didn’t return probably wrote it all off as just another happenstance, and maybe that’s what we do all the time.  Maybe we don’t notice the miracles that can happen every day.

One happened to my brother, Bill.  As many of you know, Bill, a retired Navy commander, died of ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease) some years ago.  In the course of his illness he became unable to walk, speak, eat, or talk.  But then he was presented with a miracle; it’s a contraption that attached to his head with a laser beam on it that he could manipulate with tiny head movements to point at characters on a special pad, which then take the information and through a computer translate it into audible speech.  You may not consider that a miracle, but I do.

There was the story of Joey McIntyre’s son, Rhys, who was born with a profound hearing loss.  Joey is a member of the band “New Kids on the Block” (a group which has been around long enough that they are neither “new” nor “kids;”  Joey is fifty two).  At any rate, Rhys had a bright future ahead of him, with parents that loved him and, more than that, electronically enhanced hearing devices, such as advanced technology hearing aids and Cochlear implants, surgically implanted electronic devices that can help profoundly deaf people hear sounds.  Those may not seem like miracles to you, but they do to me.

And there are support groups for disabled people of all sorts, advocacy organizations working to change access policies and public opinions, research facilities engaged in finding new cures, new aids, new resources, groups like the Special Olympics that offer opportunities for social engagement, achievement and recognition, and educational institutions working with hearing and vision impaired people, and physically and intellectually disabled people.  Miracles all.

But there’s still plenty to be done.  There are minds and hearts to change all over this world – to stop stigmatizing those with disabilities and treating them like, well, like lepers.  There are still battles to be fought for access equality.  One of those was the “Twenty-first Century Communications and Video Accessibility Act” passed in 2010, one of the few significant pieces of legislation the United States Congress has managed to pass on a totally bipartisan basis.  This bill required greater accessibility for things like remote controls, telecommunications equipment, smartphones, television program guides, and closed captioning, and it provided funds for low income deaf and blind people to buy Internet access equipment.  Little victories keep being won.  There is an update to this legislation currently pending in Congress called “The Communications, Video, Technology Accessibility Act.” There could be more to come.

Then, I read again this remarkable old story from the book of 2 Kings about the army commander Naaman who suffered from leprosy.  He turned to the great prophet Elisha for a cure.  And Elisha’s answer?  “Go wash seven times in the river Jordan.”  Naaman was incensed; he didn’t want to be directed to some everyday, routine thing like taking a bath in the river.  He wanted something exceptional – an extraordinary, headline-grabbing kind of cure.  But Elisha knew best.  Indeed, a dip in the river was all it took to make Naaman whole again.

It occurs to me that wholeness is always available in the routine, mundane things of life.  We may not have a special serum developed tomorrow that will allow a person with a spinal chord injury to jump up out of the wheelchair, but we do have sunsets, and loving hands of comfort, and majestic music, and inner resources of spirit and strength.  Wholeness is more than legs that work, or eyes that see, or ears that hear.  Wholeness is a state of being that is accessible in all circumstances of life to every broken one of us.

Which leads me to my final revelation, from the book of Jeremiah.  Here, the great prophet has a word from the Lord to the people of Israel carried off into exile in Babylon by the armies of Nebuchadnezzar.  He offers these staggering words: “But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”

In part, I think the message is: you’ve been exiled to this city; that’s where you are.  Do not lament your fate, but live where you are, seek the welfare of that city.  That message ties in with something I’ve been working on in my own life.  It has to do with an old song.  You might remember it:

“When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, ‘What will I be?  Will I be pretty? Will I be rich? Here’s what she said to me: ‘Don’t bother me right now, I’m busy!'”

No, in all seriousness, I’ve been expanding on the message: “Que sera, sera” (what will be, will be).  I’ve added: Que fue, fue and Que es, es.  What was, was; what is, is.  Mourning a lost past is just as much a waste of time and emotional energy as dreaming of a hopeful future.  Cherish the moment in which you live.

But there’s another message in this word from the Lord: In the welfare of your enemy you will find your welfare!  Can you get your mind around that?  The word of the Lord to Jeremiah is that your people and their Babylonian captors are intimately bound to one another.  Their success is your success; they’re failure is your failure.  You cannot separate yourself from them by claiming that their actions and ways make them unlovable, undeserving, disconnected.

Here’s the plain and simple truth: all of us on this planet are part of one another.  All people of all backgrounds, and all abilities and disabilities are completely intertwined.  In the welfare of others we will find our welfare.  Here’s the plain and simple truth: every single one of us is disabled in some way.  It’s all simply a matter of type or degree.  Some of us need glasses, some of us don’t hear quite as acutely as others, some of our brains don’t work as quickly as others, some of us have arthritis, or bad knees, or old football injuries, or any of a thousand other things.  Here’s the plain and simple truth: the “disabled” are not “them”  they are us.  The fact of being human means living within the bounds of these human bodies and minds, each of which is limited; all are simply limited in different ways and to different degrees.

I saw a plaque on the wall next to a chairlift that said, “So that all may come.”  That “all” doesn’t just mean someone else, it means you and me.  “In their welfare you will find your welfare.”  There are still barriers to be brought down.  There is still work to do.  Another bill that was signed into law along with the original access bill changed the wording of all health, education and labor laws.  It replaced the words “mentally retarded” with “intellectual disability.”  That may seem like a trivial matter; it’s just words.  But it’s reflective of a larger issue.  How we speak about people reflects how we think of them.  And how we think of them impacts how we treat them.  I think I for one could stand to think through not only the language used, but the attitudes and actions that I project.

So, when the ten lepers were healed, only one returned rejoicing.  Jesus said, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?”  I think that’s a message directed at us.  Each one of us is broken in some way.  Each one of us has access to wholeness because of the Holy Spirit that pervades our lives and dwells in our hearts.  Each one of us can love and be loved, which is the surest and most direct route to wholeness.  Each one of us has the capacity to work for equality and greater access for all.  And each one of us is given the opportunity to live like the tenth leper, with joyful, thankful hearts, giving praise to the Lord for wholeness and hope.

So here’s my word of advice for today: when you see someone with a twisted or distorted face, an unusual gate, a withered hand, seated in a wheelchair, or walking a seeing eye dog, showing evidence of mental impairment, or having a computer speak for them, don’t pity, don’t cringe, don’t withdraw, don’t stare.  Simply see yourself in them, as you may with any other person you meet.  See your own brokenness, and see the opportunities for wholeness that you share with them.  Indeed, we are all broken, we can all be made whole, and we might all be found rejoicing.