FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST, July 3, 2022 “Transformation Is Possible” (II Kings 5:I-19)
I met with him just after his father’s funeral. In his mid-twenties, this man I’ll call James was handsome, well-dressed, articulate, outgoing. And very full of himself. Over tea, he talked about all his plans for the future. His career – he was working on two degrees so he could practice law in both the United States and Canada. His personal life – he was currently living with a woman who was fine for right now, but he would require a brighter, more beautiful female to be the mother of his children. Not surprisingly, James showed no interest in my life or community of faith. I managed to stay silent and just listen. But inside, I seethed: the arrogance of the man!
I suspect I would have had a similar sort of reaction to Naaman. He too is a man of privilege who is used to getting his own way. Naaman is firmly established on the upper rungs of his society. Not only has he risen to the rank of general, but he has also commanded successful military campaigns. He has led the armies of Aram – present day Syria – to victory over Israel, and brought back valuable spoils of war, including captives to be enslaved. In addition, he has a wife who appears to love him and want nothing but the best for him. The world is his oyster.
Out of the blue, he develops what the Biblical story teller refers to as leprosy. This is probably not what today is called Hansen’s disease, but some sort of chronic skin irritation or rash like eczema or psoriasis. To our ears, that may not sound so bad: these are treatable and not contagious. But in Naaman’s time, to be labelled a leper is a disaster. Lepers are shunned by society. Usually, they are not allowed to live in villages, towns or cities. They are even cut off from their families. All of Naaman’s wealth, status and connections are of no use if he is a leper. Naaman’s entire future as the king’s righthand man, and as a husband and father are in jeopardy. His world has been turned upside down.
In the midst of all his planning and strategizing for the future, James was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer. He lost his magnificent full head of hair; he grew gaunt and pale. He was so used to attracting admiring stares and flirty looks. Now, there were only furtive, pitying glances. His studies had to be put aside. He needed help and care from the woman with whom he was living – the one he deemed not good enough to be his wife. His world had been turned upside down.
Can we put ourselves in the shoes of Naaman and James? Have there been moments in our own lives when we have been driving merrily along, and suddenly hit a giant speed bump? Have there been times when our course had to shift dramatically, and our future plans, be put on hold? Perhaps as a result of our own medical diagnosis or that of a loved one.
Now labelled a leper, Naaman knows exactly what he wants – to be cured. He longs to return to life as he knew it; for everything to go back to normal. He is so desperate that he will listen to advice from anyone and everyone, including an absolute nobody – a nameless little girl, his wife’s servant, a foreign slave – part of the spoils he brought back from his great victory over Israel. Naaman not only listens to what this little nothing has to say, but also acts on it. He goes through all the proper channels: first approaching his king, and then heading up a gift laden delegation to the king of Israel.
Naaman wants to be cured, to turn back the clock to the time before he was a leper. Isn’t that our usual human response when there’s a medical diagnosis which is, at best, life altering, and at worst, life shortening? Let’s cast our minds back to when covid-19 first came on the scene. Do you remember President Trump recommending several, totally unproven covid preventatives and treatments like chloroquine which for years has been used with malaria? When Trump tweeted that hydroxychloroquine had “a real chance to be one of the biggest game changers in the history of medicine”, Fox News picked up on it. Many people, fearful of this strange new virus, followed Trump’s advice.
When a friend of mine was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, he tried to carry on with his ministry, but the bouts of fatigue made this harder and harder. When he heard that a surgeon had come up with an approach based on the new theory that blocked veins in the neck and chest contribute in some way to the symptoms of M.S., he travelled overseas for the surgical procedure, even though there was no proof of its safety or effectiveness. This theory has since been debunked. We need look no further than the advertisements on our screens and in our magazines for things like copper bracelets to take away arthritis pain and stiffness, and all manner of devices to counteract neuropathy to know how desperate we are for something, anything that will help us feel as we did when we were young, and healthy.
Naaman longs to be cured. And he knows exactly how this should come about. Since he is an important man with power and authority – as amply demonstrated by all his horses and chariots – the prophet is sure to be impressed and humbled that such a celebrity has come to him. Proper protocol and respect will demand that Elisha emerge swiftly from his house and proceed to effect the cure by waving his hand over the spot. When instead, Elisha sends a messenger to tell him to wash seven times in the Jordan river, Naaman is insulted and incensed. Elisha may be willing to reach across the usual political boundaries to offer healing to a leader of Israel’s enemy, but Naaman is not about to receive it. He is ready to stomp away.
Listening to Naaman’s “I thought for me he would surely…” I am reminded of a young man who used to come to see me at Bloor Street United. Living in a rooming house, with his only income from ODSP, Craig didn’t find much joy in life. He was almost always angry because people kept failing to live up to his expectations. His sentences often began with “wouldn’t you have thought?” “Wouldn’t you have thought the receptionist would immediately acknowledge my presence; the doctor would spend more time with me; the security guard would let me stay in the mall.” I would point out that the receptionist, doctor, guard were unaware of his expectations, and his anger was only hurting himself. My approach may have been reasonable and logical, but Craig couldn’t hear me. I suspect he went away muttering: “wouldn’t you have thought a minister would be more sympathetic, more helpful?”
We human beings can get so caught up in our feelings of entitlement that we may turn our backs on what could bring us healing. Naaman is fortunate to have servants who not only dare to approach a raging general, but also know the right words to soothe his bruised ego and move him to follow Elisha’s instructions. Like the Hebrew slave girl, they are not named, but they are instrumental in bringing about Naaman’s healing. Like the hospital cleaner, who while mopping the floor, chats with patients, listening to their hopes and fears, treating them like whole human beings, rather than ailing body parts. Like the physio who worked with my Mom. Catching a glimpse of the highly competitive athlete she had been, this therapist turned my Mom’s exercises into games. From refusing to even try doing “these silly things”, Mom became an enthusiastic participant.
Naaman washes in the Jordan seven times. He is cured of his disease, but he doesn’t simply go back to the way he was before. Oh no. It’s not just the skin rash that disappears. Notice the way he approaches Elisha on his return from the river: it’s “please accept a present from your servant”. Where is Naaman’s arrogance, his sense of entitlement, his certainty that he is the somebody and Elisha, the servant? He, who was so angry with Elisha, now humbles himself to ask a favour from the prophet. He wants to become a “God fearer”, a Gentile worshipping the God of Abraham and Sarah, but he needs Elisha’s help: some earth to take back with him (at this time, gods were seen as being attached to certain geographical locations), and forgiveness for needing still to pay homage to Rimmon, the god of Aram. Naaman has been transformed.
When I heard that James’ treatment was not working, that his time was running out, I went to see him in the hospital. I was prepared for the physical change, but not for the complete shift in his attitude. Gone was the arrogant, entitled young man who knew he deserved a lucrative, interesting career and a trophy wife. Present was a person who had woken up to who he really was – God’s beloved child – and was intent on treating his family, his friends, in fact, anyone who crossed his path with compassion and caring. He wasn’t thinking, much less worrying, about how he would be remembered. He was focusing on using his remaining days to give people joy. James was transformed.
Our human diseases cannot always be cured. But God can and does bring healing – “peace beyond our fear and hope beyond our sorrow”. Like Naaman and James, we can be transformed. Thanks be to God.