Together on the Journey: A Weekly Blog from Fr. Andrew Sheldon

Last Sunday, as every Sunday, I had a choice of readings to consider when preparing to preach. I went with the Gospel reading and the story of Jesus sending the 70 out. But the Old Testament story of Naaman was also a compelling one. And so, I thought I would share some notes I have on that story. You can find the reading itself here.

Naaman is not only a high-ranking member of the enemy, the Aramites, but also the chief commander of his king’s army — the army that brought down Israel’s King Ahab with a well-placed arrow. When that conflict ends, Naaman is left with increased grandeur and the booty of war, including “a young girl captive from the land of Israel.” But that is not all: he also has been struck by leprosy.

Remedy comes from an unlikely source. The Hebrew slave girl tells her mistress about Elisha, the wonder-working prophet of the Lord. Wife speaks to husband, and husband goes to his king, who writes a letter to his Hebrew enemy about his beloved commander: “Please, cure my servant Naaman.” The situation is bizarre; a hostile pagan king asks an impossible favour for his general thereby setting the stage for disappointment and what might well be the next political disaster. “Just look,” says the king of Israel, “and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.”

When the king balks, the prophet of the Lord rushes in. Elisha tells Naaman to come; and when he comes, it is with all the Aramean horses and chariots that have otherwise been deployed so bloodily on the battlefield. Elisha stays indoors while a messenger delivers the holy man’s words for him: All Naaman need do for this leprosy to be healed is wash seven times in the river Jordan. That is all.

Perhaps contrary to Elisha’s expectations – Naaman did want to be healed, didn’t he? – the commander of legions is incensed by a series of slights to his dignity. Yes, he has leprosy; but he is, after all, the esteemed warlord of the king of Aram, who deserves a personal audience with the prophet and not just a second-hand, servant-delivered prescription. Then there is the insult to the injury: Bathe in the Jordan. That muddy trickle? “Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel?” No wonder Naaman turns away in rage.

Once again, servants save the day. In the beginning, the Hebrew slave girl had spoken about Elisha and his powers. Now, at what seems to be a complete standoff, her fellow servants rescue the situation with common sense. If the prophet had commanded something strenuous, Naaman would probably have done it; the exertion would have seemed something worthy of a great and heroic man. Instead, Elisha said, “Wash, and be clean.” But perhaps what could be done with difficulty could also be done with ease? Wouldn’t it make sense to just do it?

We are not told what goes on in Naaman’s heart and mind, or what pride he has to swallow, or how filthy the Jordan actually is on that particular day. All we know is that he descends into the waters seven times, sees his leprous skin “restored like the flesh of a young boy,” acknowledges the full authority of Israel’s God and, to ensure that he can render proper thanks to the Lord when he returns to Damascus, gets permission from Elisha to bring back two mule loads of local soil — a piece of Israel upon which to give thanks to the one who washed him clean.

What’s not to love about this story? Servants telling their masters what to do. Enemy kings doing one another’s bidding. Elisha’s moxie. Naaman’s injured pride overcome by his desire to be made whole. The backstairs conversations between servant and mistress; the official missive from one king to another; the Syrian “dissing” of the River Jordan.

At his first sermon at Nazareth, Jesus caught some of this extraordinary richness. In fact, he used Naaman’s healing by Elisha as the ancient Hebrew warrant for his own ministry to the gentiles: “There were many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian” (Luke 4:27). Jesus played with the politics implicit in the story, making good use of the perennial tensions between Jew and gentile, us and them. He exploited the essential edginess of the tale and, as a result, paid a price in that Nazareth congregation: “When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage.” Jesus recognized a provocative tale when he heard one.

So, what are we to glean from this story?

God acts, serendipitously, graciously even, provocatively – not on basis of most favoured anything status. And certainly not on the basis of character. Grace is unpredictable, God cannot be controlled. The King and Naaman were playing nationalist games but clearly the Lord wasn’t; ‘By him the Lord had given victory’. The Lord had given victory to the enemy. We serve a God who may have very different ideas on how world affairs should proceed. We need to be careful about appealing to God to support our particular position.

A little girl and slaves are the ones to bring the message. And their point is ‘What do you have to lose?’ Are you looking and listening in the right places? And are you prepared to take risks to discern the will of God? Have we resisted a lowly or humbling act designed for our healing because of pride? Or resisted being served by someone we deem unworthy?

Naaman is compelled by magic. He imagines Elisha as some kind of faith healer waving his arms around and inveighing loudly. God is not a magician. This is likely why Jesus told the lepers not to tell anyone of his healing of them.

God uses the ‘natural’ to affect a ‘cure’. So, seek God, not the action, not the cure, but God. Naaman had the good sense to take back the earth, not the water.

Because God is active in the world. On any given day the people of God may be aware of God’s grace in ways which are vivid and real and joyful, or the presence of God’s grace may be mysterious or perhaps even painful.

God is at work in the world, at work in our lives. It may be unpredictable, serendipitous, and entirely not what we might think or want. But it is grace; and God’s will, will be done.

Andrew+