Stressing with Naaman [Proper 23C - 2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c]
The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c
Stressing with Naaman
Everybody is stressed
out. You’re stressed out. I’m stressed out. Kanye West is stressed out. Everyone who has to be around Kanye West is
stressed out. And most importantly, for
our purposes today, every single person in the Naaman story is a little
stressed out.
Because stress is a
such a big deal in our nation – a nation in which almost half of the adult
population has quit a job because of stress, a nation in which workplace stress
cost over $300 billion per year, before COVID – researchers spend a lot of time
researching it.[1] And according to the numbers, at least half
of those researchers are stressed about all of that stress research – maybe even
more than half because what they have found is that stress is contagious.
We don’t really need
that research to know that stress is contagious because we have Naaman. Naaman’s stress is so contagious it bursts
off of the page; not even time and space can contain it. Hundreds of years after Naaman shows up at
Elisha’s door all stressed out about his health issues, Jesus preaches a sermon
about this passage. And according to
Luke chapter 4, just the mention of Naaman’s name stresses out that first
century congregation so much that they try to throw Jesus off a cliff. And that attempted murder, I’m guessing,
probably stressed Jesus out – at least a little bit. Stress is contagious.
To be fair, Naaman
does have a lot to be stressed about. He
is an important person with a high-pressure job. He was the commander of the army of the king
of Aram. And that might not mean much to
you now since Aram ceased to exist long ago and you don’t know the king, but
2700 odd years ago, it was a respectable position, a very big deal. Because he was a big deal, Naaman was used to
be treated as such; he was used to being treated and greeted as an important
person in a respectable position.
He was not used to
having leprosy. Not only did the skin
disease make it difficult for him to keep up with his workload, it was also a
bad look – literally and figuratively.
He was desperate to be made well.
So desperate was he,
that he was willing to take health advice from a young girl. And not
just any child, but one that he personally captured and personally enslaved. It would seem to me that Naaman most likely exhausted
many, many options before trusting a child with his well-being – especially a
child who definitely should not have had Naaman’s best interests at heart. If you still question his desperation, just
consider the plan the young girl presents to her kidnapper. It is a very
curious plan: You should venture back into enemy territory where there is this
guy who will definitely not kill you but will totally heal an enemy general who
has been harassing and slaughtering his friends and neighbors.
Naaman is not alone in
his desperation; his king, who we are told holds Naaman in high regard, is also
desperate to save the life of the commander of his army. The letter that so stresses out the king of
Israel was sent by the king of Aram. For
some reason the composition and delivery of the letter was cut from the passage,
it’s in those missing verses, and so letter the king of Israel receives and
reads seemingly comes out of nowhere.
But now you know: the letter is sent by a stressed out king and the king
who receives it finds it very stressful.
See? Stress is contagious.
To be fair, the king
of Israel is stressed because he thinks the whole thing is just an elaborate political
ploy. This king of Israel knows that the
king of Aram knows that the king of Israel cannot cure leprosy because it cannot
be cured. And so why would Aram’s king
even ask? The king of Israel is
convinced that the king of Aram is strategizing an excuse for another invasion:
the one king asks the other king for an important favor; the favor does not
come through; the disappointed king storms the gates and unleashes a world of
hurt as a kind of flimsy revenge. And,
as we can tell from this Old Testament passage, the previous invasions have not
gone well for Israel. It felt like an
impossible situation. And it was really
stressing out the king of Israel.
It was so stressful
that the king of Israel tore his clothes.
And that apparently really bummed out the prophet Elisha (perhaps he was
really into fashion or just hated wastefulness; I don’t know) because when the
prophet hears about the king’s tattered clothes, he steps in immediately and presents
a solution – one intended to lower the king’s stress level and, by extension,
save his wardrobe.
But it is a strange
plan. Elisha invites Naaman, this enemy
soldier, back into Israel and to his home.
Naaman arrives, with considerable gifts, in the most impressive vehicles
of the day, looking every bit the part of an important person, and Elisha sends
out a messenger with a simple message.
The prophet doesn’t invite Naaman in, doesn’t go out to greet him, doesn’t
even pop his head out the door to say, “hi.”
It is not a very good show of hospitality.
And Naaman is not
pleased. Remember he is used to being
treated and greeted as an important person in a respectable position. Also he is really stressed – and that rarely
brings out the best in people. And so
Naaman leaves the prophet a terrible review and then just leaves. He is so angry the text tells us twice that he
stormed off – with no intention of doing anything the prophet instructed.
Naaman was under the impression
that the prophet was a magician. He
expected some hand waving, maybe an incantation, something flashy and yet still
effective. Also instantaneous would be
nice.
But instead, Naaman
doesn’t even get a glimpse of the prophet’s hands. Because the prophet never even makes an
appearance. And the message that he
sends, through a lowly servant, is a directive that is both too easy and much
too difficult. And perhaps, as Rudyard
Kipling suggests in his poem Naaman’s
Song, even dangerous.
"GO WASH thyself in Jordan —go, wash thee and be clean!”
Nay, not for any Prophet will I plunge a toe therein!
For the banks of curious Jordan are parcelled into sites,
Commanded and embellished and patrolled by Israelites.
There rise her timeless capitals of Empires daily born,
Whose plinths are laid at midnight, and whose streets are packed at
morn;
And here come hired youths and maids that feign to love or sin
In tones like rusty razor-blades to tunes like smitten tin.
And here be merry murtherings, and steeds with fiery hooves;
And furious hordes with guns and swords, and clamberings over rooves;
And horrid tumblings down from Heaven, and flights with wheels and
wings;
And always one weak virgin who is chased through all these things.
And here is mock of faith and truth, for children to behold;
And every door of ancient dirt reopened to the old;
With every word that taints the speech, and show that weakens thought;
And Israel watcheth over each, and– doth not watch for nought ...
But Pharphar but Abana– which Hermon launcheth down
They perish fighting desert-sands beyond Damascus-town.
But yet their pulse is of the snows —their strength is from on high
And, if they cannot cure my woes, a leper will I die![2]
And yet, Naaman does not die. I
mean, he is dead now. This story is about
2700 years old. But he does not die of
that skin disease. And besides the
prophet, and the slave girl, and his king – it really does take a village – he has
his servants to thank. They stick out
their necks to convince him, their boss, their angry boss, to do something he
very much does not want to do.
And, of course, it works. The prophet’s
words come true. Naaman is healed; his
flesh is restored; it becomes, according to our text, like the flesh of a young
boy. And he returns to the one who previously enraged him. Not only to thank Elisha, but to witness to
the power and presence of Elisha’s God.
The story sounds a lot like a miraculous healing story, and in a sense
it is. But at its core, this is a salvation
story. God saved Naaman’s skin, and his
life, but mostly his soul. In
this story God takes an outsider, a dangerous and contemptuous outsider, and
brings him in. It is a story that repeatedly
reminds us that God is always at work, writing the story of salvation on our
lives. And that God frequently is at
work in mysterious ways: working through the most unexpected people, through
people who care about us more than they should; working even in disagreeable
circumstances by objectionable means. God’s
love, it is fair to say, is out to get us.
It is a relentless love that promises to stress us out until we finally
give in and accept it.
In this story and in our world, God’s
love is wildly present. It is out of
control, actually. God’s love floods our
lives with mercy and grace, mercy and grace that refuse to adhere to the bounds
that any one person, people, or institution might try to set. Did the people of Israel want to see an enemy
general healed? Based on the anger still
percolating centuries later, in Jesus’ time, I’m guessing, probably not. But apparently God did. God’s love is annoying like that. It just always violates our preferred boundaries
and undermines our prejudices and hatreds.
God’s love loves our enemies, which is frustrating, but also loves our enemies’
enemies, which, if you think about it, is very good for us.
God’s love is big – big enough to
even cross enemy lines, big enough to weather our objections and complaints,
big enough to change some stubborn hearts.
Is it too big? Maybe. But don’t stress about it. God’s love is always good – whether we like
it or not.
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