Tomorrow’s gospel is one of those well-known stories we all like hearing. It is fair to say most people can empathise with the one leper who comes back to Jesus to thank him for curing him.
It is, of course, the parable in St Luke’s Gospel (17:11-19) where Jesus cures 10 lepers and only one has the decency to say thank you. It is worth noting that the one who has the grace to say thank you is a foreigner.
This story is a great reminder of the importance of that six-letter word, thanks, or the eight letters that make up the more formal two words, thank you. How often do we say to someone: “wouldn’t you imagine they would have at least said thanks.”
One of the disadvantages of the newer buses in our major cities is that passengers now exit through the middle doors, which means they are less inclined to thank the driver as they leave the bus. But I have often noticed when people shout “thank you” to the driver, she or he will acknowledge the gesture. Yes, it is something small but I’m forever saying that it is the small things that make our lives bearable. It is also the little things that so often give us away.
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At a deeper and maybe more important level the gift of appreciation, the ability to recognise what other people do for us, is essential in keeping the fabric of our society together. I would go as far as saying that the common good demands that we recognise how we depend on one another and then the almost necessity of our recognising that fact by thanking the other person for their support, help and kindness.
Isn’t it strange that at a time when there has never been so many avenues of communication so many people feel alienated, marginalised and disenfranchised? Talking to machines, waiting endlessly at the end of a phone might be making it more difficult for us to engage and say thanks to a person.
How much crime and wrongdoing is committed by people who feel no one is listening to them, that they have been forgotten and thrown on the dung heap of insignificance and unimportance?
We can so easily miss out in appreciating the kind deeds and words of those who may have no standing in society
The matter is complicated by how, in most societies and organisations, we rush to thank those who are forever being thanked for what they do. And they are usually the so-called important people, the managers and leaders. Sycophancy is alive and kicking in our society. We give names and titles to people and then it becomes almost impossible to stop thanking them for what they do. Reputations are certainly double-edged swords. And all the time we can so easily miss out in appreciating the kind deeds and words of those who may have no standing in society.
When someone thanks me it puts a spring in my step. I’m also extremely conscious how important it is to appreciate the myriad gifts and privileges that are right in front of our noses. And so much of it has to do with honest communication with one another. It also has something to do with truth.
Last week I was on the upper deck of a bus. Two young boys, probably aged 13 or 14, were sitting near me. One of them started using the f-word. I weighed up the situation and decided to say something. I looked over and said I would prefer not to have to listen to such language. There was a moment or two of confusion, hesitation, maybe even embarrassment before I told them that I had never once heard my parents use the f-word. I could see the boy who had used the word hesitating and then we both broke into a lovely engaging conversation. The young boy even smiled. Maybe he was mystified with my interjection or approach. It was written all over his face that he was expressing sorrow for what he had done, and I bet he might well think again before using crude language on public transport.
As I went to get off the bus we connected again, and it was as clear as day we thanked each other for how we responded to the situation. I’m certain he appreciated our exchange, and I was glad that I had said to him what I did. We both gained from the moment. My last words to him were thank you. In a small way we, the boys and I, were putting into practice what Jesus taught us when he cured the lepers.