Made Whole in Thanksgiving
The Rev. Dr. Karin J. Ekholm, October 12, 2025
Jesus is on the road with his followers from his home in Galilee to celebrate the Feast of the Passover in Jerusalem. Between the northern region and the holy city lay Samaria, home to an ethnic group despised by their neighbors. Midway on their journey, they pass through something of a No Man’s land. In the middle of nowhere, they come to a village that neither group claims as their own.
As they approach, Jesus hears his name called out from a distance. At first, he doesn’t see who’s calling, and when he does, he recognizes their suffering. These men were outcasts who had banded together in their common affliction. Jesus’ reputation as a healer had preceded him, and when he arrives, they stand at a distance and lift up their voices to plead for mercy. Beyond the physical pain, this skin diseases forced them to live outside their community and warn others of their status by shouting, “Unclean, unclean!”.
Biblical purity codes also barred them from participating in religious life and entering the Temple. If their condition healed, a priest would perform a ritual, including an animal sacrifice, cleansing, and anointing with blood and oil, to declare them ritually pure again and welcome them back into the community. For the afflicted and their loved ones, this was a return from the valley of the shadow to new life. Here on the road to Jerusalem, we receive a foretaste of Jesus’ abandonment, death, and return to life.
Unlike other healing stories, here Jesus does not cure immediately, but rather he sends the afflicted ahead to the Temple. Their departure suggests trust in Jesus, and in following his charge they are made clean as they journey. It seems they’re already some distance away, and only one—a Samaritan—turns back, glorifies God with a loud voice, falls on his face at the feet of Jesus, and gives thanks.
This is a striking image of conversion—of a man a returning after an encounter with Christ to recognize the source of his transformation and salvation. The Turning back signals recognition of Jesus’ divinity and a complete change in the direction of the lives of those affected. While roads, journeys, and travelers who return transformed feature across the New Testament, they are especially prevalent in St. Luke’s telling of the salvation story.
The Samaritan whose life had been marked by calling out a warning to identify himself as unclean and who called out from a distance for mercy, now turns back belting out praises to God in a loud voice. He can’t contain himself in the joy of his salvation. Imagine his new-found freedom to approach another person, the loss of shame from being ostracized, and the hope of being welcomed back into community and religious life. I picture him singing songs and Psalms of thanksgiving at the top of his voice as he runs, healed, to the feet of Christ.
The original Greek describes him as falling on his face, and in this act of profound reverence and surrender, he gives thanks. Jesus receives him with queries about why the others did not return to give glory to God. These questions bear powerful implications: Jesus recognizes the foreigner for understanding something the others failed to see, and he identifies as divine. Here in the middle of nowhere in the space between regions, God reveals himself journeying alongside those on the margins and outcasts. Alongside those who have lost their home and call out from a distance for mercy and compassion.
In the reading that directly precedes this passage, which we heard last week, Jesus teaches the apostles of the power of faith. Here, as he sends the Samaritan on his way, he identifies faith as the source of his being made well. While the other nine were healed in body, it seems that in returning to Jesus, the Samaritan receives a further blessing of being made well. The word translated “well” also means “made whole” or “saved”—beyond health and the freedom to re-enter society, he has been further transformed by recognizing Jesus and giving thanks.
The word here for give thanks is “εὐχαριστέω” from which we derive the term Eucharist, the Sacrament which we are transformed and drawn close to Christ in praise and thanksgiving.
Our liturgy and rituals have deep roots in the Passover and Exodus, though symbols are given additional layers of meaning. There are also strong parallels between the healing of the Samaritan and the celebration of Holy Eucharist.
In the first half of our service, we recognize our need for the cleansing, deliverance, and healing of our hearts. Our prayers describe the Eucharist as a sacrifice of thanksgiving and praise, and we prepare for the Feast by bringing symbolic gifts of our labor and sustenance to the altar. Our liturgy begins by bidding all who have gathered to lift their hearts in thanks, and at the center of our Eucharistic prayers, lies the Great Thanksgiving. Here we recall salvation history and recognize the Triune God dwelling among us who creates, heals, and sustains. The process of this recitation stirs our hearts to praise. Truly, praying shapes believing.
The “Amen” to the Great Thanksgiving is the people’s affirmation of the prayer and the culmination of the service. For Episcopalians, it is in the moment when the assembly recognizes the truth of the spoken prayers that the gifts on the altar are transformed. We gather at the foot of the cross of the resurrected Christ to receive him.
Like the Samaritan, we are healed, cleansed, and drawn close to God by his mercy. The moments when we recognize Him are filled with praise and thanks. And when we struggle to see him, giving thanks for what we remember fosters faith. In many ways, these days, we find ourselves in an in-between space filled with uncertainties and enmity, and week after week return to the Altar to be reminded and strengthened on our journey. Gratitude is a spiritual practice. By turning our attention back to our baptismal identify as people who are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever, we are made whole and sent into the world to love and serve and bear witness to the risen Lord.
The sacrifices we bring to the altar include symbols of many kinds. We bring not simply a harvest of wheat and grapes but bread and wine, the products of human art. We also bring a monetary offering in thanks for what we have received. The plate is blessed as a symbol of the funds you pledge in the faith that they will be used to the service and glory of God.
As we enter Stewardship season, commit to praying about what portion of your income you will offer as a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving on Gathering Sunday. Stewardship campaigns are not fundraisers for a good cause, but rather an invitation to participate in the spiritual practice of thanksgiving.
Giving to the church—the living body of Christ—is an opportunity to give thanks for God’s self-revelation and recognize the many blessings of this life. Just as we encounter Christ in the elements of bread and wine, we come to know and glorify him through giving generously from the fruit of our labor with hearts overflowing. And as the grateful Samaritan, we are blessed and transformed every time we turn back to Christ with praise and thanksgiving.