It had been long day. I woke up with the sun and, with a groan, heaved my shaking body off of the ground. My first destination was the sea. I had to get there before everyone else if I wanted any hope of breakfast. I grabbed my walking stick and stuffed my knife into my satchel, not feeling a thing as its recently sharpened blade shaved off a few layers of the senseless skin on one of my whitened fingers. I sighed. Another day.
The morning air was refreshing. A gentle breeze tickled my cheeks, sending a flush of color to them that nearly matched the drops of blood which trickled down my finger. I swallowed as much of the air as I could in two breaths, then, wrapping my cloak more tightly around my shoulders, I covered the lower half of my face. I scanned the path leading to the sea: no human figure in sight. But I had to be careful anyway. Looking wearily at the pinkish sun which was just beginning to peek over the tips of the mountains, I murmured the customary hail of my coming—more to myself than any early-rising onlooker who might want to hear it—"Unclean...unclean...unclean..."
Breakfast wasn't too bad. It even filled my weak legs with a bit of energy...enough to walk home anyway. Before I left, I cleaned the wound from my sharpened knife as best as I could with the water whence my meal had come. I tore a bit of my garment to wrap it. It added to my costume, I suppose. We were supposed to wear torn robes anyway. Tying the strip of cloth around my finger was quite difficult. I could only hope I didn't wrap it too tight, and hot tears blurred my eyes as I worked. I couldn't feel a thing. How does one fumble through the process of tying a knot without feeling in even one finger? I managed it somehow. After wiping my useless tears and covering my face again, I made my way back.
Nothing to do today. No one to talk to. It was pretty normal. There was a huge crowd gathered in the mountains next to the sea. I could see it from my house, but I had no idea why they were there. Having nothing better to do, I watched them for as long as they sat. Occasionally, they shifted their positions. Sometimes, their shoulders bounced with laughter. Other times, they hung their heads low or tilted them to the side as if to hear better. They must have been listening to someone. I envied them terribly—sitting right there, all together, their faces uncovered, their appearance neat, their hands often touching a loved one or playing with the grass on which they sat. I looked at my hands for a moment. Twisted and whitened by the disease that separated me from humanity, they would never touch another person or finger a blade of grass. I ripped off the strip of cloth from my finger and flung it to the ground, watching bitterly as a few drops of blood brought the most color to my skin that I had seen in awhile.
I looked up again at the crowd. They were moving now, splitting to let someone pass. Who was it? I stood up to get a better view, leaning heavily on my staff as I swayed with weakness. Who was it?
I gasped when I realized the answer to my question: It was him! That man—that one they called...what did they call him? J—J—Jesus! That was it. They called him Jesus. Oh, they said he healed! And he loved! Maybe, just maybe...but a leper? Would he do it for a leper?
I had to try! He was walking my way. I could just make it, if I hurried. I could just make it to cut him off. I pulled up my shredded garments and stumbled as quickly as I could down to his path, not even bothering to cover my face or cry out my warning. Oh, he was so close!
Then, before I knew it, I was there. He stopped, and he looked at me. His dark eyes saw everything. I know they did. I looked around nervously. The excited crowd had frozen behind the esteemed teacher. Every eye was fixed on me. I swallowed and leaned on my stick, wheezing for air and nearly bursting into tears. "Lord," I gulped. I looked at his eyes. He was listening. I fell to my knees. "Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean." I trailed off. What would he do?
I didn't dare look up, but, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I froze. Would he just pass me by? Would the rest of the crowd pass by too, one by one, as far on the other side of the street as possible? Would they leave me in the dirt? My breath came all too quickly. A quiet whimper rose in my throat. Then I jumped as I saw the Master's sandaled feet enter my lowered gaze. I looked up in surprise as he kneeled before me. His eyes met mine—is there anything more full of life and love than those eyes? He reached out his hand and gently touched my shoulder. Holding his hand there, he spoke—is there anything more tender and loving than his voice? "I am willing," he said. "Be clean."
Instantly, an energy I had never felt before surged through every muscle of my body. I looked at my hands. They were healed!! I moved my fingers, closing them into fists and opening them again. I could move them! I could feel! The dreadful whiteness was gone. I stood to my feet in uncontrollable excitement, leaving my stick in the dirt. I didn't need that anymore! I laughed and turned in a complete circle, then bowed again. "Thank you, Lord! Thank you!" His joyful eyes and gentle smile lit up the sky. "See that you don't tell anyone," he said. "But go, show yourself to the priest and offer the gift Moses commanded, as a testimony to them."
The priest! Right! I was clean!
I leapt into the air and scurried off to the priest at once. I was clean! No more tattered robes and senseless skin. No more warning cries and covered face. I was clean!
*****
Two birds, some cedar wood, some scarlet yarn, some hyssop...I never thought I'd see the day. The priest had one of the birds killed over a pot filled with clean water. He dipped the remaining bird and the wood and the yarn and the hyssop into the now-bloody water—and then he sprinkled me. Oh, he sprinkled me—seven times he sprinkled me! I watched in delight as his lips parted. My heart burned with excitement. "You are clean," he smiled. Then he released the dipped bird into the fields. I watched it with a huge smile on my face as it rose on strong wings and gradually disappeared from sight, my troubles vanishing with it. I ran my hands through my hair, rejoicing as the soft strands weaved through my fingers. Ah! Do you know what it is to feel—to live?
Ha! Would you believe it? He touched me. He touched me. I am clean.
