Proper 23 - 2025

Sermon for Proper 23
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
The Rev. Andrew McLarty

It’s easy to love a story like this one. Ten people suffering with leprosy cry out to Jesus for mercy. He sees them, has compassion, and sends them to the priests—just as the law requires. And as they go, they are cleansed. Ten healed lives. Ten new beginnings. Ten stories of hope.

But then the twist comes—only one returns.
Only one turns back to praise God.
And that one… is a Samaritan.

Luke tells us this story takes place “in the region between Samaria and Galilee.” That’s not just a geographical note—it’s a theological one. Jesus is walking the borderlands. The in-between spaces. The places where insiders and outsiders overlap, where purity laws get blurry, where belonging isn’t so clear.

And that’s where faith shows up.

The Samaritan, the one who was already considered unclean by birth and blood, is the only one who returns to thank God. The only one who recognizes that what’s happened to him is not just a medical miracle, but divine one as well.

There’s something subtle and powerful happening here. The other nine were cured. Their skin was restored. Their lives could resume. But only this Samaritan was made well.

There’s a difference between being healed and being whole.

To be cured is to have the problem removed. To be made well is to be transformed.

And that transformation happens through thanksgiving. Through praise. Through recognizing God as the source of all blessings.

When the Samaritan falls at Jesus’ feet, he’s not just being polite. He’s not sending a “thank-you note” on his spiritual to-do list. He’s worshiping. The text uses the word doxa—the same root as orthodoxy. Right praise. Right belief. His gratitude becomes theology in action.

That’s the connection this story brings to life—orthodoxy and orthopraxis, that is “right believing” and “right action”, working together.

The Samaritan believes: he trusts that God has done something real in his life.
That belief moves him to action: to turn back, to praise, to worship.
And that action deepens his belief, until faith becomes more than an idea, it becomes a lived reality.

We sometimes want to separate those things. Some of us lean toward “right belief” – getting our theology lined up, making sure our creeds and doctrines are airtight. Others lean toward “right action” – making sure we live out love and mercy, even if our understanding of faith is still catching up.

But Jesus shows us today that the two can’t be pulled apart.
Belief without action is hollow.
Action without belief is aimless.
Faith, real faith, is the union of both.

And what does this union of orthodoxy and orthopraxy present itself as? Thanksgiving.

The Samaritan’s faith wasn’t just in Jesus’ healing power, it was in thanksgiving itself. His faith was expressed in gratitude.

He remembered that God is the source of blessing, and that awareness, the act of giving thanks, became the doorway to salvation. The other nine were cured, but he was made well, made whole, he was saved.

There’s a simple question this story leaves us asking:
Do we remember that God is the source of blessing?

We are so often the nine: grateful in theory, glad to be better, eager to move on. But sometimes we forget to turn back. We forget to pause and praise. We forget that the difference between being cured and being made well lies in gratitude.

So maybe faith looks like this:
Turning back.
Falling at Jesus’ feet.
Giving thanks.

That’s the shape of real faith.
That’s what makes us whole.

Amen.