A Meditation on Gratitude and the Fifth Joyful Mystery
On the road between Samaria and Galilee, ten desperate voices cry out
from a distance: "Jesus, Master, have pity on us!" These men, bound
together not by friendship but by their shared affliction, stand at the margins
of society, lepers forbidden to approach, forbidden to touch, forbidden to live
fully. Yet in their cry, we hear the universal human longing for healing, for
restoration, for someone to see us in our brokenness and make us whole. Jesus
doesn't draw near to touch them as He did with other lepers; instead, He sends
them on their way with a simple instruction: "Go and show yourselves to
the priests." And as they walk in faith, trusting His word before seeing
results, their flesh is cleansed.
But here the story takes its most profound turn. Only one, a Samaritan, a double
outcast, returns to give thanks. He doesn't simply acknowledge his healing with
a polite nod and continue on his way. No, he throws himself at Jesus' feet in
an act of total surrender and worship. This moment mirrors the 5th Joyful
Mystery of the Rosary, the Finding of Jesus in the Temple, where Mary and
Joseph discover the child Jesus after three days of anxious searching. Just as
Mary treasured these things in her heart, pondering the mystery of God's
presence even in apparent absence, the Samaritan leper recognizes that physical
healing is incomplete without spiritual gratitude. Both mysteries teach us that
seeking God, finding Him, and returning to Him with thanksgiving transforms
mere blessing into genuine communion.
Consider the nine who didn't return; they received exactly what they asked for.
Their skin was cleansed, their social status restored, their futures reopened.
They could embrace their children again, worship in the temple, and return to their
trades. These were not small gifts. Yet they missed the greater miracle: the
Healer Himself standing before them. How often do we pray our decades of the
Rosary, asking for specific graces, healing, provision, guidance, and then rush
away once our prayers seem answered, forgetting to remain in the presence of
the One who heard us? The nine represent a kind of spiritual amnesia we all
suffer from, where we become so focused on the gift that we forget the Giver.
The Samaritan's return reveals the anatomy of true gratitude. First, there is
recognition; he saw that he was healed and acknowledged the source. Second,
there is a response; he turned back, actively choosing thanksgiving over
convenience. Third, there is reverence; he fell at Jesus' feet, assuming the
posture of a worshiper rather than merely a beneficiary. Finally, there is a proclamation; he praised God with a loud voice, unashamed to publicly declare
his dependence and joy. This fourfold movement of gratitude becomes a roadmap
for our own prayer life. Each Hail Mary we pray can become an opportunity to
practice this pattern: recognizing God's presence in our lives, responding by
turning our attention to Him, revering Him with humility, and proclaiming His
goodness even in the ordinary mysteries of our days.
Jesus' final words to the Samaritan contain the deepest truth of all:
"Stand up and go; your faith has saved you." The other nine were
cleansed, but this one was saved. There is a healing of the body, and then
there is a healing of the soul, a restoration to right relationship with God.
This is the invitation extended to us each time we hold the Rosary beads in our
hands. As we meditate on the mysteries of Christ's life, death, and
resurrection, we are not merely asking for cleansing from our afflictions. We
are being drawn into the same posture as the Samaritan: returning again and
again to fall at the feet of Jesus, to give thanks, to be transformed not just
by what He can do for us, but by who He is. Ten were healed that day on the
border between Samaria and Galilee. But only one discovered that gratitude is
the gateway to salvation, and thanksgiving is the path that leads us home.
©2025 James Dacey, Jr., OFS
