Our Magnificent, Mysterious, Mischievous God
Stories
Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit
Series VI, Cycle B
Object:
This is a fun story, one of many in scripture that is good for giggles if we allow ourselves that reverent freedom when we encounter them. Engaging characters, international intrigue, and finally a denouement that is just pure fun. It is one more affirmation that our God is not only magnificent and mysterious but occasionally mischievous, as well.
The cast. Naaman. His name means charm or pleasantness. Apparently, a relatively nice fellow as standards of his day would define nice. A powerful personage, too -- the text calls him "commander of the army of the king of Aram" (modern-day Syria). He was well regarded at court: "a great man and in high favor with his master," and the reason was "by him the Lord had given victory to Aram" (v. 1). Victory over whom? Israel (so the tensions between those two that exist today are nothing new). In fact, the two nations had been adversaries for years, back to the days of Solomon (1 Kings 11:23-25). Naaman was on top of the world ... but.... He was the poster boy for that old saying, "You can have it all, but if you don't have your health, you have nothing." Our "mighty warrior" was a leper. His ailment was probably not the disfiguring, nerve-destroying leprosy we know today as "Hansen's Disease," for he is not barred from any contacts or activities because of his condition. He has face-to-face access to his king. The word here translated as "leprosy" is actually a generic term that describes a large number of skin disorders. So saying, the suffering and stigma were bad enough for the mighty Naaman to be desperate for help -- any help. No giggles there. We sympathize. But how ironic: the apparently powerful so powerless.
Another irony. A major role is about to be played by a minor character, Naaman's wife's Israelite slave girl. A bit of a surprise here -- someone so inconsequential in the grand scheme of things that she is not even named. The captive helping the captor? She has advice? Actually, yes. She tells her mistress, "If only my master would see the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy" (v. 3). It is a measure of Naaman's desperation that he would bother to listen, much less act on this slave's suggestion. But he does. He risks, not only his favored position with the king by requesting permission to go on this ancient version of a pilgrimage to Lourdes for healing, but he would risk his fortune loading up the caravan with an outrageous sum of money (health care was obviously overpriced back then, too). He would risk his very life with this journey into the hostile territory of a conquered nation. But what choice did he have? This powerful man was powerless in the face of something as simple (but as potentially devastating) as bad skin -- ironic.
Now we are introduced to the politics of the day. The Aramean king, hoping to expedite the quest of his highly valued military commander, takes it upon himself to validate this unlikely mission with an official royal letter. No longer is Naaman's search for health at the mercy of a slave girl's knowledge or a mysterious prophet's whim -- this is now an officially sanctioned matter of state significance. "With this letter I am sending my servant Naaman to you so that you may cure him of his leprosy" (v. 6).
The reaction of the Israelite king is panic. Ahhh! He rips his clothes in anguish. "Am I God? Can I kill and bring back to life? Why does this fellow send someone to me to be cured of his leprosy? See how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me!" (v. 7). The message to those hearing this story would be that this king (who, mercifully, remains unidentified) is a stinker. Despite the long history of his people, despite their deliverance from Egypt and wanderings in the wilderness, despite the powerful ministry of the prophets, it does not occur to this king to turn the problem over to God. All he sees is all hell about to break loose, an imminent international incident, a threat to "pick a quarrel," the king of Aram's transparent excuse to resume hostilities. He should know better. That is one more irony.
Now we meet a new character -- Elisha. Somehow word reaches him (we are not told how). He contacts the Jerusalem court. What is the problem? "Why have you torn your robes? Have the man come to me and he will know that there is a prophet in Israel" (v. 8). And, while we are at it, king, you might learn the same thing your own skanky self!
The next irony is that the scene will not be played out in glorious Jerusalem, but over in the boondocks of dusty Samaria. To his credit, Naaman takes that in stride and makes the trek to Elisha's home.
He arrives with his impressive caravan, all the trappings of money and might, his whole retinue of servants, not to mention all the gifts he was bringing. The prophet would surely be impressed by the show of power and prestige. But where is the prophet? Elisha does not even bother to come out of his house. Naaman's presence, which had struck such fear into the heart of Israel's king, is hardly even recognized by Israel's prophet. Instead, he sends a servant out with instructions: "Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed" (v. 10).
What? What kind of greeting is this? Not even a personal shalom for someone of the stature of commanding general of the forces of a great nation? The prophet cannot bother himself even to come out of the house? You can see the steam beginning to come from Naaman's ears. And these instructions? Insulting! Naaman had anticipated a Cecil B. DeMille flourish with all the pomp and circumstance such a moment deserved -- Elisha would stand tall before him, arms uplifted, "... call on the name of the Lord his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy" (v. 11), with the style and dignity befitting such a VIP. Instead, all Naaman gets is this servant's secondhand directive to go wash in the Jordan -- seven dunks in a muddy stream. Big whoop! This is ridiculous! And there's more irony -- the Jordan? "Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than any of the waters of Israel? Couldn't I wash in them and be cleansed?" (v. 12). Elisha has not only insulted Naaman, but Naaman's homeland, as well!
For a moment, it seems a frustrated, furious Naaman will give this up as a fool's errand. How dare this country prophet show so little respect? He wanted to be healed, but there are ways and there are ways. Naaman wanted it done his way. Forget it! Turn this caravan around.
But, once again, irony jumps in. It is the voice of the lowest -- this time Naaman's own servants: "If the prophet had told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more, then, when he tells you, 'Wash and be cleansed'!" (v. 13). They urge him not to reject help because the helper's style appears simple. The prophet had asked for obedience and humility, not some mighty act of valor or a hocus-pocus performance.
The truth of his servants' words slaps Naaman back to reality. He stops being the military commander, the friend of kings, the wealthy courtier, and instead acknowledges what he is: a leper who needs to be cleansed.
I wonder if he felt foolish as he took those steps into the river. Some probably. One more bit of irony -- the mighty warrior ducking under once ... and twice ... and three times ... up-down-up-down-up-down ... four times ... five ... up-down-up-down ... six ... seven. Silly? A little perhaps; we are allowed to giggle. But when it was done, he walked up the bank and, as scripture says, "his flesh was restored and became clean like that of a young boy" (v. 14). More than the leprous scales had washed off Naaman's body in that water -- so did the pride and arrogance that he had brought with him. Maybe not so silly after all.
The story does not end there. Naaman returns to Elisha, this time actually getting a face-to-face meeting. He is grateful, of course, and he is wise enough to know the true source of his healing. He says, "Now I know that there is no God in all the world except in Israel" (v. 15).
Naaman learned something else important that day. He learned that this God of all the world does not work according to our preconceptions. It took him awhile, but Naaman was finally able to get rid of his, and when he did, his healing began.
Can we get rid of our preconceptions of what God must do, when God must do, where God must do, how God must do? Naaman's attitude challenges our own response to circumstances in our lives. We all have hurts and hopes, and, like Naaman, we all have our ideas as to how God will handle them. The problem might be physical, or it could be something in our home or family or job or church. Yes, the healing of Naaman is a fun story -- lots of neat twists and turns plus not very subtle irony and even humor, but, at its heart, it has a very serious message. Just this: God does not work according to our preconceptions -- never has, never will. Is that all right with you? Good -- then be open and ready for some wonderful surprises ... gracious gifts from our magnificent, mysterious, even mischievous God.
The cast. Naaman. His name means charm or pleasantness. Apparently, a relatively nice fellow as standards of his day would define nice. A powerful personage, too -- the text calls him "commander of the army of the king of Aram" (modern-day Syria). He was well regarded at court: "a great man and in high favor with his master," and the reason was "by him the Lord had given victory to Aram" (v. 1). Victory over whom? Israel (so the tensions between those two that exist today are nothing new). In fact, the two nations had been adversaries for years, back to the days of Solomon (1 Kings 11:23-25). Naaman was on top of the world ... but.... He was the poster boy for that old saying, "You can have it all, but if you don't have your health, you have nothing." Our "mighty warrior" was a leper. His ailment was probably not the disfiguring, nerve-destroying leprosy we know today as "Hansen's Disease," for he is not barred from any contacts or activities because of his condition. He has face-to-face access to his king. The word here translated as "leprosy" is actually a generic term that describes a large number of skin disorders. So saying, the suffering and stigma were bad enough for the mighty Naaman to be desperate for help -- any help. No giggles there. We sympathize. But how ironic: the apparently powerful so powerless.
Another irony. A major role is about to be played by a minor character, Naaman's wife's Israelite slave girl. A bit of a surprise here -- someone so inconsequential in the grand scheme of things that she is not even named. The captive helping the captor? She has advice? Actually, yes. She tells her mistress, "If only my master would see the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy" (v. 3). It is a measure of Naaman's desperation that he would bother to listen, much less act on this slave's suggestion. But he does. He risks, not only his favored position with the king by requesting permission to go on this ancient version of a pilgrimage to Lourdes for healing, but he would risk his fortune loading up the caravan with an outrageous sum of money (health care was obviously overpriced back then, too). He would risk his very life with this journey into the hostile territory of a conquered nation. But what choice did he have? This powerful man was powerless in the face of something as simple (but as potentially devastating) as bad skin -- ironic.
Now we are introduced to the politics of the day. The Aramean king, hoping to expedite the quest of his highly valued military commander, takes it upon himself to validate this unlikely mission with an official royal letter. No longer is Naaman's search for health at the mercy of a slave girl's knowledge or a mysterious prophet's whim -- this is now an officially sanctioned matter of state significance. "With this letter I am sending my servant Naaman to you so that you may cure him of his leprosy" (v. 6).
The reaction of the Israelite king is panic. Ahhh! He rips his clothes in anguish. "Am I God? Can I kill and bring back to life? Why does this fellow send someone to me to be cured of his leprosy? See how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me!" (v. 7). The message to those hearing this story would be that this king (who, mercifully, remains unidentified) is a stinker. Despite the long history of his people, despite their deliverance from Egypt and wanderings in the wilderness, despite the powerful ministry of the prophets, it does not occur to this king to turn the problem over to God. All he sees is all hell about to break loose, an imminent international incident, a threat to "pick a quarrel," the king of Aram's transparent excuse to resume hostilities. He should know better. That is one more irony.
Now we meet a new character -- Elisha. Somehow word reaches him (we are not told how). He contacts the Jerusalem court. What is the problem? "Why have you torn your robes? Have the man come to me and he will know that there is a prophet in Israel" (v. 8). And, while we are at it, king, you might learn the same thing your own skanky self!
The next irony is that the scene will not be played out in glorious Jerusalem, but over in the boondocks of dusty Samaria. To his credit, Naaman takes that in stride and makes the trek to Elisha's home.
He arrives with his impressive caravan, all the trappings of money and might, his whole retinue of servants, not to mention all the gifts he was bringing. The prophet would surely be impressed by the show of power and prestige. But where is the prophet? Elisha does not even bother to come out of his house. Naaman's presence, which had struck such fear into the heart of Israel's king, is hardly even recognized by Israel's prophet. Instead, he sends a servant out with instructions: "Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed" (v. 10).
What? What kind of greeting is this? Not even a personal shalom for someone of the stature of commanding general of the forces of a great nation? The prophet cannot bother himself even to come out of the house? You can see the steam beginning to come from Naaman's ears. And these instructions? Insulting! Naaman had anticipated a Cecil B. DeMille flourish with all the pomp and circumstance such a moment deserved -- Elisha would stand tall before him, arms uplifted, "... call on the name of the Lord his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy" (v. 11), with the style and dignity befitting such a VIP. Instead, all Naaman gets is this servant's secondhand directive to go wash in the Jordan -- seven dunks in a muddy stream. Big whoop! This is ridiculous! And there's more irony -- the Jordan? "Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than any of the waters of Israel? Couldn't I wash in them and be cleansed?" (v. 12). Elisha has not only insulted Naaman, but Naaman's homeland, as well!
For a moment, it seems a frustrated, furious Naaman will give this up as a fool's errand. How dare this country prophet show so little respect? He wanted to be healed, but there are ways and there are ways. Naaman wanted it done his way. Forget it! Turn this caravan around.
But, once again, irony jumps in. It is the voice of the lowest -- this time Naaman's own servants: "If the prophet had told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more, then, when he tells you, 'Wash and be cleansed'!" (v. 13). They urge him not to reject help because the helper's style appears simple. The prophet had asked for obedience and humility, not some mighty act of valor or a hocus-pocus performance.
The truth of his servants' words slaps Naaman back to reality. He stops being the military commander, the friend of kings, the wealthy courtier, and instead acknowledges what he is: a leper who needs to be cleansed.
I wonder if he felt foolish as he took those steps into the river. Some probably. One more bit of irony -- the mighty warrior ducking under once ... and twice ... and three times ... up-down-up-down-up-down ... four times ... five ... up-down-up-down ... six ... seven. Silly? A little perhaps; we are allowed to giggle. But when it was done, he walked up the bank and, as scripture says, "his flesh was restored and became clean like that of a young boy" (v. 14). More than the leprous scales had washed off Naaman's body in that water -- so did the pride and arrogance that he had brought with him. Maybe not so silly after all.
The story does not end there. Naaman returns to Elisha, this time actually getting a face-to-face meeting. He is grateful, of course, and he is wise enough to know the true source of his healing. He says, "Now I know that there is no God in all the world except in Israel" (v. 15).
Naaman learned something else important that day. He learned that this God of all the world does not work according to our preconceptions. It took him awhile, but Naaman was finally able to get rid of his, and when he did, his healing began.
Can we get rid of our preconceptions of what God must do, when God must do, where God must do, how God must do? Naaman's attitude challenges our own response to circumstances in our lives. We all have hurts and hopes, and, like Naaman, we all have our ideas as to how God will handle them. The problem might be physical, or it could be something in our home or family or job or church. Yes, the healing of Naaman is a fun story -- lots of neat twists and turns plus not very subtle irony and even humor, but, at its heart, it has a very serious message. Just this: God does not work according to our preconceptions -- never has, never will. Is that all right with you? Good -- then be open and ready for some wonderful surprises ... gracious gifts from our magnificent, mysterious, even mischievous God.
