// January 31st, 2011 // No Comments » // presence, the story

He was tired. Yes, tired of the numbness, the ugly sores, the weeping wounds on his hands and feet, the hot and heavy cloak he was required to wear that stuck to his wounds, the hoarseness of his voice from the ulcers in his throat – tired of being surrounded by death and dying.
But he was tired of so much more. Since the day the priest pronounced him ‘unclean’, he’d been banished to live with others who were sick like him – banished from his family, his friends, and banished from his identity as a Jew – forbidden to worship God in the temple.
As he limped along the road to his home outside his old village, he saw a group coming towards him and wearily lifted his hand to cover his mouth and warn them of his approach, “Unclean! Unclean!” The familiar words were a permanent reminder of his isolation.
As they came closer he heard someone say the name – Jesus. The leper looked up and saw the one they spoke of. His limp turned to an awkward gait, and, ignoring all social and religious protocols, he fell on his knees before the rabbi.
Mark 1:40-45