This is a story about voices. It is a story about big voices – loud and authoritative voices proclaiming and directing and ordering people about – and it is a story about little voices – barely heard and quavering voices whispering in darkened hallways and speaking gently out-of-turn.
But the voices are just a way understanding what the story is really about – and that is power. It is the story of the power of those people on whom we most often bestow power – rulers and military commanders – and it is the story of the power of those we deem to be powerless – servants, slave girls, and messengers.
This is a story about voices – and power behind those voices. It is the story of the great Syrian generalissimo Naaman and how he was healed of a terrible skin disease, commonly known as leprosy.
We hear Naaman’s story only once in the three year cycle of the lectionary. Who was he anyway? If we were ancient military historians, then surely we would know all about him. After all, he had proved himself on the battlefield time and time again. Why, it was his army that had brought down powerful King Ahab with a well-placed arrow.
His own Syrian king had great respect for Naaman and held him in the highest esteem. After all, Naaman’s uniform was weighted down and decorated with various medals of honor, distinguished service medals, and purple hearts.
He had everything going for him – well, just about everything - until that evening when he felt the first sensation of numbness in his right hand – his sword hand - and he noticed a small patch of redness and those telltale tiny raised pustules.
“How can this be? Where is the fairness in my plight?” He shouted in his loudest and most powerful generalissimo voice. And he lay awake all that night until dawn - the refrain of “Untouchable! Untouchable! -” knitting together his terrible nightmares.
As author and seminary professor, Barbara Brown Taylor, noted, even the simplest of everyday encounters would inevitably change for Naaman. The powerful generalissimo knew that there would soon be a time when his success and fame and power would mean very little.
Instead there would be the awkward discomfort of someone who might not want to shake his hand or who could not help but stare too long at his disfigurement.
Needless to say, his wife was distraught as well, and his entire household stood by, horrified at the grisly news of Naaman’s dreadful but sure demise.
As the fingers of dawn first began to part the night sky and before the sun arose, one of Naaman’s war trophies, a little nameless slave girl went to Naaman’s wife, her little slave girl voice quavering as she whispered to her mistress in a darkened backstairs hallway. “The prophet in Samaria – Naaman should go to him. He could heal my master.”
When Naaman heard these whispered words of hope, he went to his king who, of course, would do anything to save the powerful generalissimo. And so the powerful king of Syria wrote a most powerful letter of introduction to the equally powerful king of Israel: This is to inform you that you must cure my most powerful generalissimo of his disease.
Figuring that perhaps a letter might not be quite enough to sway an equally powerful king, the Syrian monarch also sent along thirty thousand pieces of silver, six thousand pieces of gold, and ten fine changes of clothing rich in brocade and of the best fabric – powerful gifts from one powerful king to another on behalf of a powerful soldier.
Not surprisingly, the king of Israel wanted nothing to do with the situation – in spite of the silver and gold and ten new brocaded outfits. Wary of a trick or some sort of political high jinx, he was all ready to send Naaman packing when the prophet Elisha stepped in.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Elisha said to the king of Israel for whom he prophesized. “Just send Naaman to me. I will cure him – and in doing so show him how powerful a real prophet – a prophet of Israel – can be.”
And so the most powerful generalissimo gathered up his most powerful gifts of silver and gold and brocaded outfits and knocked on Elisha’s door. Fully expecting that a powerful military commander of his stature would be greeted by the powerful prophet himself, Naaman was a more than a little taken aback when a servant – again with no name – bowed before him, bringing only a message from Elisha.
What moxie this prophet of Yahweh had in the face of such political and military power! Imagine - Elisha staying inside and sending a messenger boy instead.
“Elisha says to wash seven times in the Jordan River, and you will be healed,” the young servant said in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Take a bath? He wants me to take a bath? I came all this way to have him tell me to take a bath? In the muddy Jordan River, no less?” Naaman shouted in his most enraged and powerful voice even as he loudly dissed the Israeli watering hole. “When I have got far better and cleaner rivers back home in Syria than any river I could possibly find here in Israel? Do you know what they DO in the Jordan River? Laundry, that’s what. And who knows what else. Swimming in the Jordan River? Your prophet has got to be kidding. I am out of here.”
And the most powerful generalissimo began turning the horses and mules around, his loud voice still muttering expletives and critiques. And once again it was the small and powerless voices of servants – Naaman’s this time - who saved the day. Imagine – servants telling their masters what to do.
“Oh, most powerful generalissimo,” his servants whispered in quavering voices. “If Elisha had told you to do something hard or dangerous or expensive, you would have obeyed. Just dunk yourself in the Jordan River. Just try it. Just do it.”
And Naaman the powerful generalissimo – in spite of his injured pride - took the advice of the powerless ones – and dipped himself into the muddy Jordan. One, two, three, four, five, six – and a seventh time. And lo and behold, just as Elisha said, Naaman was healed.
This is a story about power. It is a story about those people we have bestowed power upon and those we have deemed to be powerless. It is a story of the power of kings and generalissimos and that of slaves and servants.
But it is also the story of mega-churches – and small membership congregations. It is the story of Washington - and the man on the street, Walmart and the small business person. It is the story of Wall Street -and Main Street, agribusiness and local farmers. It is the story of us – you and me - and the power that we in fact do have even we when are deemed – or feel ourselves to be - powerless.
All the power of the King of Syria and all the power of Naaman could not cure the generalissimo of his leprosy. All of their shouting and loud voices, their orders, proclamations, and directives could not restore his health.
It was the little voices – the whispering of the powerless ones – that made the difference: the slave girl’s quiet suggestion in the hallway to send Naaman to Elisha in the first place, the shy voice of the messenger speaking the words of the cure, the reticent servants pleading with their master to just take a swim in the Jordan.
When you really think about it, even the power of God channeled though Elisha would not have made a whit of difference had it not been for the slave girl, the messenger, and the pleading servants. It was they – the powerless ones – who in the end played the most important role in the story – and made all the difference.
I have to tell you. I find this tale personally very empowering. You see, I do not think we are like the Kings of Syria and Israel. Neither are we like the generalissimo Naaman. I see us more as the slave girl and messenger and bevy of pleading servants. At least, that is how I see myself.
And yet, there is power within us - a power to love, a power to commit ourselves to economic and social justice, a power that is the powerful message of the Gospel.
I believe that if we choose to wield that power, like the powerless ones in our Scripture lesson, we can make a difference. We can be a catalyst for healing – for the healing of the whole world.
Now, because today is Independence Day, I would like to leave you with something to carry with you to all your parades and celebrations – and that is this.
We in this country are NOT exceptional people. We are not the Naaman’s and the Syrian Kings - though we have certainly done our share of proclaiming and directing in loud and authoritative voices. We have bestowed a power upon ourselves and deemed others to be powerless.
No - we are not exceptional people – but our style of government is exceptional and the fact that our democracy has remained in tact for over 200 years is exceptional. That each one of us can exercise the power within us to make a difference is exceptional. That the little voices – when they choose to speak out - are honored is exceptional. That Margaret Mead’s observation has the potential to be so true in our nation is exceptional: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
Let your little voice be heard, for therein lies its power!
Rev. Nancy Foran is pastor of the Raymond Village Community Church, Raymond, Maine
http://www.rvccme.org/
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