Remembering and Giving Thanks
Today’s readings teach us to live faithfully even in unfamiliar and difficult places.
The prophet Jeremiah does not tell the exiles in Babylon to simply wait until they can return home.
Instead, God calls them to settle down—to build, plant, raise families, and pray for the city’s peace.
As the Lord says, “In its welfare you will find your welfare.” (Jeremiah 29:7)
This passage shows us the true direction of faith. Faith is not about longing for a glorious past or
sighing over what has been lost. God tells us to live here and now, to build, to plant, to nurture, and to
continue life even in exile. We often treat the present as temporary, thinking, “When things get better,
I’ll start living.” But that wastes the life God already gives us.
To live faithfully does not simply mean to work hard. It means to accept the present moment as the
place where God is with us and to seek God’s will within it. God calls us to focus on today. Holiness
does not happen only in temples. It grows even in strange, uncomfortable places—where our hearts
feel weak and uncertain. There, God is still with us, nurturing our faith.
So we do not avoid reality. We look at our neighbors and pray for the peace of the place where we
live. “For in its welfare you will find your welfare.” Faith is not private peace alone, it is seeking the
good of the whole community. God sends us into the world to pray and work for the well-being of all.
Psalm 66 gives us a song for those who walk through hardship: “Be joyful in God, all you lands; sing
the glory of his Name; sing the glory of his praise” (Psalm 66:1). The psalm invites us: “Come now and
see the works of God, how wonderful he is in his doing toward all people” (v.4). What are we to see?
“He turned the sea into dry land, so that they went through the water on foot; and there we rejoiced in
him” (v.5). They remember how God led them through the Red Sea, and that memory helps them face
today’s suffering.
The psalm does not hide pain: “You brought us into the snare; you laid heavy burdens upon our
backs. You let enemies ride over our heads; we went through fire and water; but you brought us out
into a place of refreshment” (vv.10–11). They confess their trials honestly, yet also God’s deliverance.
“You brought us out into a place of refreshment.”
This becomes our own confession too. We too have walked through fear and loss, yet God has
brought us to a place where we can breathe again. The Holy Eucharist is the place where we
remember that saving grace. At this table, we recall God’s mercy and turn our sighs into thanksgiving.
In the Second Letter to Timothy, Paul reminds us to hold on to the heart of our faith: “Remember
Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendant of David, that is my gospel” (2 Timothy 2:8). Here
lies the core of the gospel, the incarnate and risen Lord. This memory grounds our identity and our
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calling.
This call to remember Christ is also at the heart of baptism, which reminds us what it means to live as
those reborn in him. Baptism means dying to the old self and rising to new life in Christ. Yet we often
forget this new identity. Each baptized person is called to remember this grace every day and to live
again as a child of God. That is what Paul means when he says, “Remember Jesus Christ.”
Paul writes from prison: “I suffer hardship, even to the point of being chained like a criminal. But the
word of God is not chained” (v.9). We may be bound by circumstances, but God’s word is never
chained. Social barriers, emotional walls, and the limits of our reality cannot confine the gospel. The
word of God finds a way through every wall.
Paul continues: “I endure everything for the sake of the elect, so that they may also obtain the
salvation that is in Christ Jesus” (v.10). Then he quotes an early Christian hymn, a confession of faith
that was already known in the church: “If we have died with him, we will also live with him; if we
endure, we will also reign with him; if we deny him, he will also deny us; if we are faithless, he remains
faithful, for he cannot deny himself” (vv.11–13).
Here we find comfort. Even when our faith is weak, Christ remains faithful. So we return to what truly
matters, not arguments or prideful words, but the living word that brings life. The Anglican tradition
values balance and discernment, seeking to understand Scripture rightly and to live in ways that build
others up.
The Gospel of Luke teaches us the meaning of thanksgiving. “On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was
going through the region between Samaria and Galilee” (Luke 17:11). This region was a
borderland—both geographical and social. Samaritans and Jews were enemies. The border between
them represented division and exclusion.
Ten lepers stood there, keeping their distance. In that time, lepers were considered unclean and were
driven out of their communities. Yet they cried out: “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” (v.13). Their cry
was more than a plea for help; it was a cry of faith that crossed the boundaries between people.
Jesus said, “Go and show yourselves to the priests” (v.14). And as they went, they were made clean.
Healing happened. But the story’s heart lies beyond healing. “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” (vv.15–16).
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?” (vv.17–18). Then he said, “Get up and
go on your way; your faith has made you well” (v.19).
The Greek word translated here as “made you well” means both “to heal” and “to save.” All ten were
healed, but only one was saved. Jesus sent them to the priests so they could receive the confirmation
required by the Law and begin the journey back to their communities. The nine were healed on their
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way, but only one turned back—to find not just healing, but salvation.
The nine received what they asked for: their bodies were healed and the way was opened for them to
rejoin society. But the Samaritan received something far greater. By turning back to Jesus in
thanksgiving, he discovered not only physical healing but a living relationship with God.
The nine went back to their old lives; the one entered new life. Healing restored their bodies; salvation
restored their souls and opened them to God’s kingdom. Thanksgiving is not mere politeness; it is a
way of recognizing grace and returning to its source. Gratitude leads us back to Jesus’ feet, where
healing becomes salvation.
The nine received permission to return to society, but the Samaritan discovered a new home at Jesus’
feet. The nine had their problem solved; the one had his life transformed. They were healed of leprosy,
but he was saved from a life that saw God only as a solution provider.
Thanksgiving was the turning point, the moment when cure became calling, when relief became
relationship, when healing became salvation. Today we too must ask: Where are we walking? Are we
only running toward our busy routines, or are we turning back to give thanks to the One who gives us
life? When we pause and return to Jesus, even for a moment, our hearts are renewed.
All today’s readings remind us of one truth — to remember God’s grace, to live faithfully where we are,
and to give thanks in all things.
Just as he once walked through the region between Samaria and Galilee, he now enters the
borderlands of our own lives—our strange and uncertain places—and says, “Get up and go on your
way; your faith has made you well” (Luke 17:19).
Holding on to that voice, we return to our daily lives. Even in our own Babylon, we build, care, and
pray for peace. Even when we pass through fire and water, God will bring us “into a place of
refreshment” (Psalm 66:11). Even when our faith wavers, “he remains faithful, for he cannot deny
himself” (2 Timothy 2:13).
So, open your eyes in remembrance. Build your house in faithfulness. Return to the Lord in
thanksgiving. And like the Samaritan who fell at Jesus’ feet, may we move from healing to salvation,
from suffering to praise, from strangeness to peace. Amen.