2 Kings 5:1-14 "Naaman's Story"

You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly! 

         Naaman was a great man.  At least that is how the writer of his story in the Old Testament (or Hebrew) part of our Bible put it.         

         You see, Naaman was a five star general and his King, the ruler of Aram (which is modern day Syria) thought he was the cat’s meow.  In addition, his soldiers would walk through walls for him.  They loved and admired him that much, and the everyday people would line the boulevards whenever his motorcade passed through – cheering and waving their cloaks and palm branches.

         Naaman was rich, powerful, and respected.  He had everything going for him – except for one small thing – always spoken of in a whisper and mostly behind his back. 

         Naaman had a skin disease – and a pretty disgusting one it was too.  Some Biblical translations call it leprosy.  Whatever its name, it was most likely grossly disfiguring, and it probably itched like the dickens.  All in all, public appearances were difficult for him, and the rash did nothing for his self-esteem and psyche. 

         Naaman lived in his own private hell – as we all do from time to time. He had consulted with countless doctors and quacks and had tried every cure in the book. 

Then one day a young Israelite slave girl mentioned to Naaman’s wife that the great general ought to go to Israel.  There, the young woman said, he would surely find a prophet who could make short work of something as superficial as a skin disease. 

         Now the writer of Naaman’s story implies that he was at the end of his rope, the reason for which kept repeating itself every morning when he looked in the mirror to shave.  He was desperate for a cure.     So the great and powerful one (Naaman) took the advice of the small and powerless one (the unnamed slave girl).  He implored his king to dash off a quick letter of introduction to the King of Israel, then packed his bags, and headed to said country – along with ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, ten sets of garments, and a whole retinue of his most able-bodied soldiers, cooks, personal dermatologist, and some general purpose servants.  In short, it was quite the parade led by a great man ever so willing to purchase his health – his salvation – at most any price. 

         The King of Israel, however, powerful though he may have fancied himself to be, was a bit taken aback with the presumptuousness of Naaman’s request as it was funneled through the King of Aram. "When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his disgusting skin disease."

         Yikes!  When the King of Israel read those words, we are told that he tore his clothes, and you have to wonder if that was why Naaman had brought those ten extra garments – anticipating the worst.  At any rate, the King of Israel shouted out, "Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a great general such as Naaman of a skin disease – disgusting or not?"

         The King’s ranting and raving reached even the outskirts of the city where the Jewish prophet Elisha lived in simplicity and solitude.  Apparently the King of Israel had no clue that a prophet of any reputation lived nearby.  Hard to believe, but judging from other Kings of Israel both before and after, one really would expect little else from this particular King. 

         However, when Elisha heard about the garment shredding, he sent the king a message, and so the one believed to have no power (Elisha) approached the one who thought he had all the power (the King).  "Why have you torn your clothes? Let Naaman come to me, that he (and you too, bonehead,) may learn that there is a prophet in Israel."

         So Naaman – and his ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, ten sets of garments, and a whole retinue of his most able-bodied soldiers, cooks, personal dermatologist, and some general purpose servants – set off for Elisha’s home.  Reformed Church pastor Scott Hoezee describes the scene beautifully:  “I like to picture Elisha living in the Ancient Near Eastern equivalent of a run-down looking mobile home out in some overgrown field somewhere. Today you would not expect the presidential motorcade to come roaring up to such a trailer in the middle of nowhere replete with police motorcycles, flashers flashing, sirens blaring, Secret Service cars, and the presidential black limo itself.  

         But that’s kind of what we see….Elisha lives in a hovel in front of which suddenly roars up Naaman’s whole entourage of horses and chariots and what-all-not.   Probably he had some trumpeter herald his arrival even as servants unrolled a strip of red carpet for Naaman to walk on after regally disembarking from his chariot.

        But then—just to keep this interplay between the lofty and the lowly going a bit more—we are told that Elisha just sends a messenger to tell Naaman what to do. The trumpet blares to announce the great man’s arrival, he walks to Elisha’s front door on the red carpet, but then . . . the door opens a crack and some lowlife servant peers out over top of the door’s security chain to tell Naaman to go to the river to wash seven times.  And no sooner does the mealy-mouthed little servant say this, he quickly re-closes the door.”

         Naaman is furious at this unexpected reception.  The nerve of him:  Treating me – me! – with such disrespect.  Does this prophet fellow not know who I am?  That I am a great man?  A five star general, no less? 

         Hoezee continues his description:  “He (Naaman) is the one who is supposed to send intermediaries to people on the lower rungs of the social ladder.  The folks down there are not supposed to send him second-tier messengers and servants.  

         Naaman wanted Elisha himself to come out and do a little song-and-dance routine, recite an incantation or two, make a big show of it all. But instead Naaman gets dismissed from the premises without even seeing the prophet in person and is told to do the unlikely-to-be-helpful thing of taking a bath in a muddy river.  Naaman could feel the multiple infections setting in already once that mucky Israelite river water seeped around his open sores.”

         Naaman was about to stomp off in righteous indignation at not being able to buy his health and his salvation – taking his ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, ten sets of garments, and a whole retinue of his most able-bodied soldiers, cooks, personal dermatologist, and some general purpose servants with him.

         However, once again, the powerless ones (the servants) approached the powerful one (Naaman).  “If the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it?” they asked.  ‘How much more, when all he said to you was, 'Wash, and be clean?’” So Naaman went down and immersed himself seven times in the muddy Jordan River. 

         And, as Episcopal priest Laura Everett writes, Naaman “swallows his pride, leaves his clothes and his riches and his comforts by the shore side and plunges into the water.

He leaves behind the money and the armor that couldn’t heal him and plunges into the deep. Did it work yet? Two times- Why am I doing this? Three- look at all the people staring at me. Four- this is ridiculous. Five- I could have done this at home in my own rivers. Six- I have nothing to lose. Seven, he throws up his hands and acknowledges, “I can’t save myself.” And - guess what?  His flesh was immediately restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.”

         This story is so delightful and multi-faceted.  In it we find the trauma of disease, the drama of the King shredding his clothes, the comic relief of Naaman setting off with his carts filled with untold wealth to buy a cure, and the irony of the powerless ones (the servants, slaves, and a no name lo-life at Elisha’s door) directing a story so populated with people who thought of themselves as so great and powerful. It leaves us with loads to think about!

         First, there is where we think we will find healing and salvation.  Like Naaman, we want to believe in the things that our culture says will save us. That would be so easy!  We are all tempted by the magical fixes for whatever ails us. 

         As Everett writes, “Face cream made from diamonds, water from bucolic springs, work out videos from famous people. And we’re willing to pay to be saved. We want to believe and we’re willing to pay. Sports drinks that will give us back our energy, razors with five blades to make us into football players, scents from canisters that magnetically draw people to us….

         Naaman is prepared to buy his salvation….(He) is flush with material wealth, but this is not the economy of God’s salvation. Healing is not bought with talents and shekels and garments, or cars or investment portfolios or gadgets…. But the temptation is high to pack our bags heavy with the things we think could save us - our houses, our credit cards and our stuff.
         But God has other plans – for Naaman and for us.  As Everett concludes, “Naaman is an extreme version but his impulses are familiar.  (We too are) fairly sure we know where God’s healing will come from and what it will look like.”  But, you know what, Naaman could not save himself, and, in spite of our wealth, privilege, and presumptions, in the end, we cannot either.

        Second, there is our propensity to look for God in all the wrong places.  As one blogger I read this week wrote, “Now, the Bible is full of dramatic stories and God certainly has been known to do big things in big ways. God spoke to Moses through a burning bush and later allowed him to part the Red Sea in order for the Hebrews to escape Egypt. The plagues against Egypt included locusts and frogs and a bloody river. Elijah was taken up to heaven in a whirlwind…God works in magnificent and mysterious ways.” 

         However, more often, God works through the little people, the ones with no power, the ones we are most likely to overlook or trample.  God works through the least of these:  the young man and his dog with a cardboard sign on a Portland street corner who makes us think twice about what it means to be homeless, the child who sits up here with me and softly repeats the words I say in prayer who helps us remember that to be part of the kingdom we will need to be like Clare and Eamon, Bobby, Aubrey, and Gavin too. 

         Third, there is the revelation that those who seem to have no power often wield more than they presume, and those who figure they have all the power discover in sometimes hard and humiliating ways that they do not. On this Independence Day weekend, in between the BBQs and the fireworks, we might take a moment to ponder how the seemingly powerless ones (you and me) in fact determine the fate of the powerful ones (like Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump). You see, this nation whose birth we celebrate is great not because of its wealth or its military presence.  It’s greatness lies in the fact that we the people have both the right and the privilege to vote, to elect our leaders, and so, together, to determine our national vision.  We the people – who these days often seem to have no power - in the end hold all the power to keep America great - as it has been all along.

         There you have it.  This story of Naaman is one we may not read very often, but it is one filled with lots to think about – not the least of which is the complicated but rich relationship between the low and the lofty, the powerful and the powerless – and what that means for us today.

by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church U.C.C., Raymond, Maine