July 3, 2022
Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the Lord had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy. Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. She said to her mistress, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. And the king of Aram said, “Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel.” He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy.” When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.” But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, “Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel.”
So Naaman came with his horses and chariots and halted at the entrance of Elisha’s house. Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored, and you shall be clean.” But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, “I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?” He turned and went away in a rage. But his servants approached and said to him, “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more when all he said to you was, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.
This is the story of a man who had everything. Naaman was the commander of an army: he had power. He was a friend of the king: he had prestige. He won his battles on the field: he had success. He was a mighty warrior. He was a great man. Naaman had everything – except his health.
Despite his greatness, he had one of the skin diseases that the scriptures refer to as “leprosy.” Not a precise diagnosis in our own time, but we have a pretty good idea what it meant. Leprosy was the one disease nobody wanted. It threatened your life, but more than that, it cut you off from others. As soon as the trouble spots appeared on your skin, the rest of the world deemed you unacceptable. It was a social disease.
When others learned you had it, they insisted you stay away. There was no known cure. You weren’t going to ever get better. Nobody would come close enough to take care of you. Your blood vessels would shrink, first in your extremities. You would lose all feeling in your fingers and toes. The sickness would create terrible scars. It would change your appearance. You could have all the power, prestige, and success in the world – but there was no cure. You would wither slowly, with no help from anyone else.
Naaman was a man who had everything, and none of it mattered.
So naturally, he leaned forward to listen when his young servant girl offered a way out. She was a slave, stolen from Israel in one of his army’s raids. She was a nobody. We never learn her name. She served as a domestic servant for Naaman’s wife (we don’t know her name, either). But she had two things Naaman does not have: knowledge that could lead to healing, and compassion for him.
“If only my lord were with the prophet of Samaria,” she says, referring to the prophet Elisha. “He would cure him of his leprosy!”
So Naaman, who had everything but good health, lacks one thing more: the power to cure himself. Fortunately, for him, he has a good reputation with his king. He goes to the palace and tells the story. He reports the good news. The king says, “You must go. I will send a letter to the king of that region, and some money, too.”
Some money indeed. Do you know how much money he sent? “Ten talents of silver” – by my estimation, about $14 million. Not only that, six thousand shekels of gold – we can’t imagine what that was worth! Suffice it to say, health care is expensive, but not that much. The king of Syria, Naaman’s boss, is making an extraordinary gift. Either that, or a bribe. He really wants his leprous general to be made well.
No doubt, you noticed the king of Israel was upset, not by the appearance of a leprous soldier from the land we call Syria, but by all that money. It’s too much. And he doesn’t know the first thing about healing a leper. What if he can’t make Naaman well? Is this some kind of mobster deal, where if he doesn’t deliver, he’ll swim with the fishes?
In a fit of anxiety, the king of Israel exclaims, “Who does he think I am? God? I have no power to give life or death. The king of Syria is setting me up!” And he rips his clothes in despair.
So we have a problem here. Naaman is powerful but can’t heal himself. His king sends an extraordinary sum to buy off the healing, because he’s powerless to do anything else. The king of Israel rips his clothes because he’s powerless to do anything, either. All of them are powerless – please notice that. It is the primary condition for salvation: helplessness.
But here comes word from Elisha. They call him the Man of God. He’s the One that the slave girl has heard about. “Send Naaman to me,” he says to his own king. “Send him to me, and we will teach him there is a Prophet in the land of Israel.”
So Naaman rolls up on his chariot. He is surrounded by chariots. And he has horses. Big horses, war horses, impressive horses. General Naaman comes with a staff and an entourage because he’s a really big deal. He rolls up in front of Elisha’s house. The horses whiney. The armor on his chest is shining.
And do you know what Elisha does? Absolutely nothing. He pours himself another cup of coffee. Finishes the sports page. Yawns. Waits. Outside, Naaman is waiting. He waits. And what does Elijah do? Nothing. He sends out a servant. He doesn’t even bother to go outside. The servant pads out there on his sandals. Looks up at Naaman, says, “My master says, ‘Go jump in the Jordan River seven times. That’ll cure you.” Then he turns and goes back inside.
Naaman is sitting there in the hot Israeli sun, and he is getting hotter. Really, really hot. He’s hot enough to throw something against a wall. Or lean over the front of the chariot, put his hands around his bodyguard’s throat... I mean, he is furious. He is incensed. He sees red. He is really mad.
But he’s enough of a grownup to step away. Or stomp away. As he stomps, he makes a little speech: “I’m the General of the Aramean army. I am particularly important. I’ve come all this way. I’ve brought loads of money that, for some reason, nobody wants. I thought the least this guy could do is step outside, wave his hands, and make the spots disappear. I thought he could call on his god and cure my illness. And he wants me to jump in that little creek over there? We have real rivers in Damascus! They are better than all the trickles in Israel. If that’s all it took, couldn’t I wash in them?” And he was enraged.
Naaman stomped for a while. A good long while. None of his servants said a word. Just let him be. He’s an important man. A great man. A friend of the king back home. And that’s such a long way away.
So…after a while, one of the servants cleared his throat, and said, “Father…We’ve come all this way. We didn’t see the prophet, but we heard from him. If he had told you to climb a mountain, you would have done it. If he said, ‘fast for forty days,’ you would have done it. If he commanded you to do something hard, you would have done it. All he said was, ‘Wash and be clean.””
Naaman was a great man. An important man. A wealthy man. A powerful man. But not powerful enough to wash the leprosy away. He took a long breath. Didn’t say a word. He immersed himself in the Jordan River. And again, and again. Seven times. And when he climbed out, dried himself off, his skin was pure as a baby’s bottom. No more leprosy.
Now, the story goes on a good bit from there, but there’s enough for us here to chew on.
Is the Jordan River magic? Some might think so; you ought to see the tour buses pull up and sell tickets! I merely pass on what my tour guide said: “There’s a herd of cattle upstream.” It’s only water. Fresh water, reused water, whatever. It’s only water.
How about the prophet Elisha? Is he magic? Truthfully, he’s quite rude. Doesn’t bother to meet up with Naaman. Doesn’t care about the soldier’s authority, wealth, or status. In the best sense, doesn’t even seem to care for Naaman to the exclusion of anybody else. His initial retort was simply, “Let’s show this guy there is a prophet in Israel.”
Ok, so what about that? He’s a prophet. A Man of God. Does this mean he is loaded with magic? Well, no, but he has access to power – and the power doesn’t come from him, That’s the point at which the whole story resolves. The power is God’s power. It cannot be purchased. That means somewhere there’s still ten talents of silver and six thousand shekels of gold that God didn’t take. But there is power – power to heal and restore - and it comes through Elisha’s speech. That’s the only tool of God’s prophet. He works with words, God’s words. And the words reveal that God wants that Syrian army commander to have his skin washed clean.
What did Naaman have to do to become well? On the face of it, nothing. It was the Word of God that cleansed him. It was the gift of God that healed him. He didn’t have to do a whole lot. Well, he did have something to do. Two things, really. He had to obey what God told him, third hand; the message came through the messenger of God’s messenger. And he had to make himself available. Those are the two keys: obedience and availability. God did all the rest.
The Word from the prophet is that God wills for wholeness, health, and restoration. I have no trouble broadening that intention to include us all. God wants us to be clean. Purified. The stigmas washed away. And God know, there are plenty of stigmas, right?
- It might be a disease that isolates
- A tough or broken marriage,
- A kid with an addiction,
- A series of bad decisions that can’t easily be undone
- An act of public embarrassment,
- A difference of opinion that separates you from those you love.
There are plenty of “social diseases,” if we called them that. And the only thing that can make us well is the grace of God, the power of God, the healing cleansing mercy of God. One of the lessons we learn from Naaman is that we might have to get out of God’s way – which means we might have to get out of our own way. Because pride insulates us from true healing. It can be a form of arrogance that pushes God away.
This is a personal matter. And it’s also a community matter, too. In fact, did you know that Naaman makes a second appearance, this time in the preaching of Jesus? It was there, in his hometown, as he stood on the Sabbath to announce the God’s kingdom was at hand, that the promised Jubilee had come from the heart of God, that all people would be welcomed, loved, restored. All people! Jesus said this, as he spoke on the words of the prophet.
And then he said, “Doubtless, you will quote the proverb, ‘Physician, heal yourself.’ But I tell you, in the days of Elisha the prophet, there were many lepers in Israel, and none were cleansed but Naaman, the Syrian.” And they were furious with him, and pushed out the door, and pushed him to the edge of a cliff, because he dared to say that God comes to love the stigmatized, as much as God comes for any of us. They couldn’t see it because of their own pride. (Luke 4:16-30)
Yet the cure comes from God, released in the syllables that come from God’s prophetic heart. And if we really want to be well, the same two invitations are given to us: obedience, that is, do what God says; and availability, put yourself in the place to receive what God provides.
So we put ourselves here, a place of enormous availability. God has met us here before. And we hear the Word from God in Christ, “Take, eat, this is my Body, you are my Body. Take, drink, all that separates us from God and one another is cancelled and forgiven.
And we look down: such a little piece of bread. Just a dollop of juice. God’s not telling us to eat a huge loaf or drink down a gallon. And we have better bread and juice back home. But here we are, nothing extravagant, with just enough for us to obey and make ourselves available.
Listen: when we
eat and drink at the Lord’s Table, look around. We’re part of something.
(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.
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