Note: This weekend we celebrate World Marriage Sunday. At the end of the homily is a ceremony for renewal of vows and blessing of married couples. It incorporates the Profession of Faith and General Intercessions.

Today we hear about Jesus extending his hand to touch a leper. It is hard for us to appreciate what that meant. An early Christian writer named Gregory of Nazianzus described leprosy in vivid terms. He tells about how the disease ate away the flesh and bones of the victims to such an extent that they were unrecognizable. To identify themselves, they would say, “I am the child of that man; that one is my mother; this is my name; once upon a time you were my friend and intimate with me.” But now all that had changed. As Gregory wrote:

“They can no longer make themselves recognizable by their features, by what was formerly characteristic of their face. Gnawed by the disease, they have lost their fortune, their parents, even their bodies.”

Gregory goes on to describe the horrible smell which repels even the most compassionate person. “A mother,” he says, “would like to embrace her child, but she dreads the flesh of that child as she dreads an enemy.” Laws forbade lepers from entering cities, from traveling on public roads or from touching streams, ponds and wells.

After describing the misery and isolation of lepers, Gregory then recalls what Christ did for them. As we heard in today’s Gospel, he did not shrink from them. Rather, he touched the leper. That gesture must have amazed Jesus’ followers. It no doubt caused a chill to run down the spines of St. Gregory's congregation.

It is hard for us to think of a comparison. Leprosy holds no terror today since we know that antibiotics can effectively treat the disease. AIDS perhaps offers a certain comparison, but no knowledgeable person fears someone with that affliction. I have HIV-positive friends with whom I spend time, hug and share a plate of food.

To find a modern analog for a leper, one would have to go to a different level. There are (I admit only reluctantly) people whose approach causes me to cringe. In this I am not alone; our society does a pretty good job of keeping certain people isolated. A couple of decades ago Archbishop Hunthausen talked about the need for a new religious order to care for lost souls who wander our city streets. No one then took up his proposal – and as far as I know (with the possible exception of Franciscans of the Renewal) no one has.

There are modern lepers on our streets – people with such emotional problems that we do not wish to go near them. Similar people exist within our family circle. We try to be friendly, but we are on guard and we talk about them afterwards. Finally (and this is most important) there is one leper whom most of us do not even wish to see. We have walked with that person our entire lives, but we fear embracing him. None of us, I am afraid, really sees himself as he is – and we do not want to. Surely you have been with some person and thought, “If only he could see himself as others do.” But what if that person were your self? I have sometimes thought I was making a great impression, only to find out later that I had offended and hurt the other person.

Once a guy told me about being at a gathering where everyone was laughing and talking, while he stood on the sidelines. At the end of the evening one of the people approached him with a big smile and said, “I bet you think we are all a bunch of crazy people.” Actually, the people did not fascinate him. He felt excluded and bored, anxious for a moment to escape.

You have probably heard of Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, The Masque of the Red Death. It is about a prince during the time of the plague, who invited people to a party where they all wore colorful masks over their faces. They ate, drank and danced, believing they were safe from the disfiguring disease which ravaged the countryside. Suddenly they noticed a man with the gruesome mask of plague victim. It disgusted the guests and when the prince approached to rip the mask from the man’s face, he fell to the carpet, deathly ill. The other guests soon followed. The plague was within the castle.

Poe had a piercing sense of how we humans can carry on, oblivious to a disease which grows inside us. There is a kind of leprosy which affects us all. Poe saw it more clearly than most men and it drove him to despair. But that need not happen. There is someone who wishes to touch, even to embrace you, despite your disfigured condition. He is the one who today stretches out his hand to the leper who cries out for help. To him he says, “I will do it. Be made clean.”

This great love of Jesus ties in with what we are observing this weekend: World Marriage Sunday. God instituted marriage as an essential part of his plan to teach us love. The first step for us is to accept that unmerited love which descends upon us. Pope Benedict spoke about that love in his first encyclical, using the Greek word agape.* It is free, but it comes with an obligation: the desire be a channel of God's love to others. That happens first and foremost in family. Eros love brings a man and woman together, but only agape love can make it last. It is easy to love the other person when he is on his best behavior, but it becomes much harder when the two live together, day in and day out. It is relatively easy to love ones friends - after all, we chose them because of common interests - but to love ones brothers and sisters, uncles, aunts and in-laws, can be a greater challenge. That love might require that we touch and embrace someone less attractive. As Jesus touches even the unlovable part of you and me, may he inspire us to do the same for those near us. Married couples often show us a beautiful example of that self-giving love.

With that I would now like to invite married couples to receive a special blessing. (Married couples may stand and come forward.) Please join with me in honoring them and praying for them as we celebrate World Marriage Sunday.