Ten men cried out for mercy.
Ten were healed.
But only one came back.

And Jesus asks the haunting question:
“Were not ten made clean? Where are the other nine?”

That question echoes through every age.
Where are the others?

How many receive God’s gifts — health, food, forgiveness, breath, life itself — but never return to give thanks?
How many take grace and walk away?

The Gospel today is not only about healing — it’s about gratitude.
The only one who returns is a Samaritan, an outsider.
He alone sees the deeper miracle.

The others were happy to be cleansed.
He was happy to be saved.

Gratitude is the mark of true faith.
Ingratitude is the first step toward sin.

Adam and Eve’s fall began when they stopped being grateful.
They had everything — life, love, paradise — but they wanted more.
Every sin begins where thanksgiving ends.

That’s why the first reading fits so perfectly.
Naaman, a Syrian general — also an outsider — comes to Israel for healing.
He expects drama: thunder, spectacle, a prophet’s magic words.
Instead, Elisha tells him: “Go wash in the Jordan seven times.”

Naaman is furious. Too simple. Too humble. Too ordinary.

But when he obeys, he is cleansed.
And like the Samaritan, he comes back — not just cured, but converted.

He says: “Now I know there is no God in all the earth except in Israel.”
He gives thanks — and begins to worship.

Gratitude leads to faith.

Notice what Jesus says to the Samaritan:
“Stand up and go; your faith has saved you.”

The nine were healed of leprosy.
But only one was healed of ingratitude.
Only one was made whole — body and soul.

Physical healing restores the skin.
Spiritual healing restores the heart.

The greatest miracle is not walking again —
it’s walking back to God.

The Greek word eucharistia means “thanksgiving.”
Every Mass is the act of returning to Christ, falling at His feet, and saying:
“Thank You, Lord.”

At every Mass, Jesus asks again:
“Were not ten healed? Where are the others?”

The world still takes the gift and walks away.
But here, we are the one who returns.
Here, we kneel and give thanks — for mercy, for forgiveness, for salvation.

Every time you come to Mass, you are doing what the Samaritan did.
You are saying: “Lord, I was unclean, but You have made me whole.”

We live in an age of complaint.
We have never had so much — and yet we grumble more than ever.

Gratitude has been replaced by entitlement.
We treat blessings as rights, and we forget the Giver.

That’s why the Church insists on thanksgiving.
Because without it, faith shrivels.
Gratitude keeps the soul alive.

The saints were experts in gratitude.

St Thérèse of Lisieux said: “Everything is grace.” Even suffering, even disappointment, can be turned into thanksgiving.

St Francis of Assisi, sick and nearly blind, still sang: “Praise be to You, my Lord, for Brother Sun and Sister Moon.”

And at the Last Supper, on the night He was betrayed, Jesus took bread — and gave thanks.
That’s divine gratitude: thanksgiving in the very face of the Cross.

So what does this mean for us?

Gratitude isn’t just words. It’s a way of life.

• When you wake up, make the Sign of the Cross and say: “Thank You, Lord, for another day.”
• When you sit down to eat, thank God for food, and remember the hungry.
• When you receive the Eucharist, don’t rush away. Stay a moment and say from the heart: “Thank You, Jesus.”
• When trouble comes, thank God even then. Because He can use even pain to make us holy.

True gratitude doesn’t wait for perfect circumstances.
It thanks God in every circumstance.

There’s a danger in this Gospel.
The nine lepers weren’t bad men. They just forgot.
They got what they wanted — and moved on.

But forgetfulness of grace leads to loss of grace.
When we stop thanking, we start drifting.

A Christian without gratitude becomes sour, anxious, and closed.
A grateful heart stays open to God.

And here is the hope Paul gives us in the second reading:
“If we die with Him, we shall live with Him… If we are faithless, He remains faithful.”

Even when we forget Him, He doesn’t forget us.
Even when we fail to return, He waits at the altar for us to come back.

His mercy is constant, His love patient, His heart open.

We talk about “harvest” at this time of year.
The true harvest God looks for is not apples or wheat — it’s gratitude.
A grateful heart is fertile ground.

Naaman’s gratitude bore faith.
The Samaritan’s gratitude bore salvation.
Our gratitude can bear holiness.

The seed of thanksgiving planted in daily life can become a field of joy, peace, and charity.

Ten were healed.
One returned.

The others received a gift and lost the Giver.
The one who came back found both.

So let us be that one.
Let us return again and again — to the altar, to the Eucharist, to Christ.

For every grace, give thanks.
For every trial, trust Him.
For every breath, praise Him.