Speaking at Today’s Healing service, Fr Joe  pointed out “Every touch of Jesus, every moment of compassion, every act of healing, points us toward the ultimate restoration of all things through him.”

 

Fr Joe’s Sermon in full:

Imagine the scene: a man covered in leprosy, an outcast. For years, maybe decades, he has been isolated, rejected by society, forced to announce his own impurity wherever he went. His disease didn’t just ravage his body; it stripped him of his identity. People no longer saw him as a person – they saw him as a problem, a danger. His suffering was not only physical but mental, emotional, and spiritual.

We often think of leprosy as a physical affliction – and of course it was. His skin would have been raw, marked by sores and disfigurement. His body was wasting away. But imagine the mental anguish: no one would come near him. His own family couldn’t go near him.  He hadn’t felt the warmth of human touch in years. The loneliness must have been crushing. His sickness defined him. He was not just a man; he was the leper.

Yet, something remarkable happens in this story. Despite everything, this man does something that others in his position may have given up on long ago. He approaches Jesus—not hiding, not ashamed—and falls to his knees. And he says something beautiful:

“If you are willing, you can make me clean.”

What a prayer! In those few words, he expresses both faith and surrender. He doesn’t beg or demand, nor does he presume. He simply asks: “If you are willing…” This is a profound expression of trust. He knows that Jesus has the power to heal him, but he doesn’t assume to control that power. It’s the essence of a beautiful prayer – a heart laid bare before God, trusting in his goodness, whatever the answer may be.

Now, Jesus’ response to the man is quite interesting.  In some Bibles, the next line reads “Jesus was filled with compassion or pity” whereas in other Bibles, the next line reads “Jesus was filled with anger”.  Now there are many times where slight variations in our versions of the Bible are because the same Greek word in the manuscripts may be translated slightly differently into English.  However, this is one of the very rare cases where the oldest manuscripts use two completely different Greek words – one is compassion or pity, the other is anger or indignation.

Biblical scholars debate amongst themselves about which is the older – which is the original.  I will argue however that such debates don’t matter – and that the Holy Spirit is at work in giving us these two, very different words to wrestle with.

The easier of the two is that “Jesus was filled with compassion”, because after all, that’s the Jesus we know – but what then do we with the manuscript which tells us that Jesus was filled with anger?  These two reactions – compassion and anger – might seem contradictory. Was Jesus compassionate or was he angry?  The answer, I think, is that he was both.

Jesus is filled with compassion because he sees this man’s suffering. He knows the pain of isolation and disease, and his heart goes out to the man. But Jesus is also angry – angry at the brokenness of the world. Angry at the suffering that sin and disease have caused. Angry at the way creation has been distorted. His anger is not directed at the man, but at the disease that has ravaged him, at the forces that keep people like this man trapped in suffering. His anger and compassion are two sides of the same coin—both born from his deep love for us.

And then, Jesus does something even more remarkable. He reaches out his hand and touches the man.

Think about that for a moment. No one was supposed to touch a leper. According to the law, lepers were unclean. Touching them made you unclean. It was a risk not only of contamination but of becoming impure yourself. But Jesus, in his compassion, in his righteous anger against suffering, reaches out and touches him anyway.

Why does he touch him?

Because Jesus didn’t come just to heal the body. He came to restore the whole person. The leper’s disease had isolated him from human touch, from community, from feeling like he belonged. With that single touch, Jesus doesn’t just heal his body – he restores his dignity. He touches him to say, “You are not untouchable. You are not beyond reach. You are not less than human.  Your life is of infinite value to me.”

This touch is a symbol of something much deeper. Jesus, the Son of God, became human for this very purpose. In his incarnation, Jesus reaches out to touch all of us. He didn’t stay at a distance, observing our suffering from afar. No, he came down into our world, took on human flesh, and walked among us. He took on our pain, our suffering, and even our death. Jesus’ touch in this moment is a glimpse of what he does for all of humanity – he enters into our brokenness to bring healing and restoration.

And when he says, “I am willing, be clean,” he not only heals this man’s body but restores his soul. The man can re-enter society, reconnect with his family and community. Jesus brings him back to life, fully, in every sense of the word.

This is what Jesus does for each of us. He touches the places in our lives that feel untouchable – The diseases, the wounds, the shame, the pain that we hide from others. He brings healing, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually. He is both compassionate toward us and angry at the brokenness that keeps us from flourishing.

In a service of healing and anointing like this one, we are invited to come before Jesus just as the leper did – with our pain, our fears, our struggles, and with that same simple but profound prayer: “If you are willing, you can make me clean.”  And as we kneel before him, we can trust that Jesus is not only willing but able. His touch reaches into the very depths of our pain, bringing healing not just physically but emotionally and spiritually, restoring our whole person just as he did for the leper.

But this moment of healing is also a sign of something even greater. Every touch of Jesus, every moment of compassion, every act of healing, points us toward the ultimate restoration of all things through him. As we receive his healing now, we do so in the sure and certain hope that one day, when Christ returns, he will make all things new.  On that day, disease and death will be no more. Every tear will be wiped away, and all of creation will be restored to the fullness of life and the wholeness that God intended. Until that day, we hold on to the promise of his presence and power, knowing that his touch is with us now, and his healing will be complete in the world to come.  Amen.

Isaiah 35:1-6,10

Psalm 146

Mark 1:40-45