"Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well."

Luke 17:19

And, yes, the Bible is all those things. So why not preach Jack Kerouak or Emily Dickinson or Annie Dillard?

It's a fair question. And I'll be honest with you. I find Pilgrim at Tinker Creek , Annie Dillard's Pulitzer Prize winning meditation on the wonders of nature, to be more spiritually satisfying than, say, vast stretches of Leviticus. In reality, there are parts of the Bible that are disturbing at best and perhaps even unredemptive at worst. You'll never hear me preach about how God commands us to go out and smite our enemies, for example.

And certainly the best secular poetry and literature can shed light on the human condition and help us see ourselves more clearly.

But the other side of this conversation is that parts of the Bible - the Gospels in particular - are so revolutionary, they burn so hot in the preacher's hands, that like Martin Luther, I cannot do otherwise than preach them.

For to preach something other than the gospel is to deprive us all of God's Good News. That's what the word Gospel means, don't forget - Good News, capital G, capital N.

But for the people of that time and place - for lepers and outcastes, for women and outsiders, for the poor and the marginalized - it wasn't just Good News. These words that we read week in and week out, these were a revolutionary manifesto. They contained the very blueprints for building God's own Kingdom, for constructing the very reign of God, on earth as it is in heaven.

So I guess the question is, is it still Good News today? Is it relevant to us or should we just stay home and read the NY Times?

Well let's have a look, shall we? Hear these words from Luke 17:

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!"

When he saw them, he said to them, "Go and show yourselves to the priests." And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus' feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan.

Then Jesus asked, "Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?"

Then he said to him, "Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well."

The thing about leprosy in those days is that if you got it, people believed it was because God gave it to you. It wasn't that you'd done something wrong, and deserved a medical punishment. No, it's just that for reasons that no one could discern, God simply chose to visit the affliction upon you.

As if that weren't bad enough, what made things worse is that leprosy, of course, is contagious. Given that you seemed to have attracted God's displeasure, and that you could spread that displeasure to others, the priests devised very stringent ways to marginalize you.

First, you weren't just sick, you were "unclean." The book of Leviticus devotes two entire chapters instructing priests how to diagnose leprosy's various manifestations, how to declare its victims to be unclean and how to quarantine them.

As for the lepers themselves, they were forced by law to wear torn clothing so folks would be able to spot then from a distance, and to wear what amounted to cowbells that announced their presence to the unsuspecting.

And as if that weren't enough, the law demanded that lepers themselves reinforce this stigma by shouting "Unclean!" "Unclean!" when approached by a non-leper.

Now granted not one of us here today has had leprosy, but I can also guarantee you that not one of us has gone through life without feeling stigmatized at some point.

I don't know what yours might be, but I've told you mine before. Try making it through high school with severe acne. Try playing on the basketball team when your pockmarked shoulders are exposed to the world.

Not an easy thing to do, to be sure. The thing with leprosy, or with any physical stigma, is that it eats away not just at your body but at your soul, too. And what I love about this passage is that these lepers apparently had had enough of that. They wanted their bodies back. They wanted their wardrobe back. They wanted their souls back.

"Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" they cried out in a loud voice. They do not announce their status as lepers, as the law instructs them to do. They do not ring their cowbells. They issue an imperative command. Have mercy on us. They were sick of the torn clothes and the cowbells. Sick of living on the margins. Sick of feeling like monsters. And they were bold enough to say so.

And a good thing, too, because if they hadn't, Jesus might have walked right past them. When he saw them, the text says, he said to them, Go and show yourselves to the priests. And as they went, they were made clean.

October is domestic violence awareness month. Like leprosy, domestic violence can leave scars on the body, but it can also eat away at a woman's soul. Unlike leprosy, and as hard as it may be to think this, there are women in this sanctuary today who are victims of domestic or relationship violence.

And also, unlike leprosy, victims of domestic violence are not required by law to wear torn clothing and to announce their status as victims to the world. Rather, they typically suffer in silence.

Why am I saying this here in the context of a worship service? I'm saying it because had Jesus not seen them, the lepers in this story would have remained right where they were, locked outside of the community of God's people. Unseen. Unloved. Unhealed.

And I'm saying it because domestic violence is an enormous problem in our society and it goes virtually unnoticed, unseen. And maybe it's our job to notice. To see the problem and to open eyes to its prevalence. To raise our voice, to shout out against this terrible epidemic.

So what is domestic violence? Or relationship violence?

It is a pattern of verbal, physical, emotional or sexual abuse. That is, it's a pattern of behavior by one partner that hurts the other partner. That degrades her or belittles her. It is often used by one individual to assert power or maintain control of his partner. It is behavior ranging from verbal threats to put-downs to name calling to hitting, slapping, pushing, and, finally, sexual abuse.

It is a violation of one person by another. And, last but by no means least, it is against the law.

If you are victim of domestic or relationship violence, there are some things you should know. One, it's never you're fault. Perhaps you're made to feel like it is; that you drive your partner crazy. That's part of the abuse. You don't deserve to be treated that way. And if your partner says he's sorry, he probably means it, but he'll probably do it again.

I'm also saying this here, in mixed company, because domestic violence is not just a women's problem. Men cause it. Most cases of domestic violence are not reported.

But of the cases that are, 95% of the victims are female. And according to the American Psychological Association, 1/3 of all women will be physically or sexually abused by an intimate partner during their lifetime.

In nearly all of these cases, men are the perpetrators. So, just as there women who are victims of domestic violence in this sanctuary, there are also likely men here today who have engaged in such acts at some time. And perhaps you, too, are carrying around some scars left by domestic violence, only yours are on the inside, in your heart.

So, what do we do? Well, what did the lepers do? They raised their voice. They shouted out for mercy. They told their story.

The biblical scholar Walter Brueggeman has observed that pain that is not expressed often turns to poison, or even violence. It can just sit inside of us and fester.

So it's important to raise your voice, to express what you're feeling. We've got counselors here today (Marilyn and Emily - both of whom have gone through formal training with Our Voice and Helpmate). We've got literature on the table. I'll stay around for a time after the service, too.

Because the other side of this equation - and this is the really good news - the other side of it is that pain that is expressed turns to energy. It's transformed into the energy to heal and be healed, the energy to love, energy to give and to serve God and the world.

Of the 10 lepers who were healed in this story today, only one of them comes back to Jesus. He is a Samaritan - a man so far outside the boundaries of Jewish life and culture that perhaps he had no place to go.

And Jesus tells him, this ostracized Gentile, your faith has made you well. This outsider; this socially unacceptable man - Jesus acknowledges that he has the power inside himself to effect his own healing.

So raise your voice! If you've ever been stigmatized, speak your mind and your heart, even if your voice breaks. If you're heart has been wounded with fear, or paralyzed with guilt, raise your voice! Speak your truth even if your knees shake; even if the dam breaks, or the earth quakes. Don't be afraid. Raise your voice!