Have you ever wondered about the people in the town that doesn’t welcome Jesus’ friends? Why would they not welcome these people who were bringing a message of good news, good news that the reign of God was close to them? Was there something about Jesus’ friends, or the way they proclaimed Jesus’ message, that would turn off the people in such a town? Would they expect that a message about God could only be delivered by one of the religious leaders? Or perhaps they would think, “How could a rag-tag bunch of people, including even women, have anything to say to us about God’s reign?” Would these naysayers think that God could show up only in certain people, places, or ways?
We might ask the same questions after hearing the story of the healing of the Aramean general Naaman. As most of you know, the Episcopal Church follows a three-year cycle of readings for the Sunday Eucharist. We are currently in the third year of the cycle, Year C. In year A, the gospel readings are mostly from Matthew, in year B from Mark, and this year from Luke. During the summers of all three years, we read some of Paul’s letters more or less straight through. For example, for the last several weeks we’ve been hearing from Paul’s letter to the Galatian Christians. Today we heard the very end of that letter. Next week, we’ll begin Paul’s letter to the Christians at Colossae. With the readings from the Hebrew Bible, the lectionary gives us two choices, either to read some of the books sequentially, track 1, or to read lessons that complement the gospel, track 2. As you can see from your bulletin insert, we are reading track 1, the semi-continuous readings. Today we come to the end of a cycle of readings from first and second Kings, which describe the ministries of the great prophet Elijah and his successor Elisha. Starting next week, you’ll be hearing from the book of Amos.
In this last reading about Elisha, we hear an ancient story about the healing of Naaman. Ancient though it may be, this story makes me ask the same questions as the gospel reading does. Did the characters in this story think that God could show up only in certain people, places, or ways? Our general, Naaman, was so highly regarded by his king, because the Arameans, had bested the Israelites in battle, and, indeed, had killed Ahab, who, as we heard a few weeks ago, had acceded to Jezebel’s stealing of Naboth’s vineyard. Yet this great general is clueless about how to cure his skin disease – which probably was not Hansen’s disease, i.e., true leprosy, but something more like psoriasis. Instead, he had to learn from a captured servant girl, the lowest possible person in his household, that an Israelite prophet might cure him.
Of course, instead of following the servant girl’s suggestion, Naaman heads to the Aramaen king, who is also clueless. He sends Naaman off with a delegation to the king of Israel. The king of Israel, rightly fearing another Aramean raid, is also clueless and seemingly unaware of the great prophet in his own city. Naaman is so full of self-importance, that when Elisha finally steps in and, through his servant, asks Naaman to perform a simple ritual, Naaman cannot do it. It takes Naaman’s own servants to save the day, by urging their arrogant master to do what he must do to be cured. Is it possible that Naaman misses the saving action of God, because he has preconceived ideas about through whom, where, and how God will show up? To his credit, Naaman, as we learn in the verses following the ones we just heard, acknowledges the action of the God of Israel and thereafter continues to worship God, even after returning to Aram.
Let’s stay with the ancient story a little longer. Yes, this story suggests that we can miss God’s appearance because we expect God to show up in certain ways. The story of Naaman reminds us that God often makes Godself known in unexpected ways. Often the powerless perceive God’s presence, here, for example the servant girl and Naaman’s own servants, while the powerful miss God’s appearance. Low social or economic status does not mean that one is spiritually poor. Indeed, both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament suggest that often the opposite is the case. Amos was a dresser of sycamore trees before God called him. David was the youngest of Jesse’s sons and was out tending the sheep when Samuel came to anoint a king over Israel to follow Saul. Jesus was born in a no-account village in the conquered part of the Roman Empire to the young wife of a carpenter. Many of Jesus’ earliest followers were low on the social scale, fisherman, tax collectors, and prostitutes. Yet it was they who were able to sense God’s presence. It was they who were able to hear Jesus’ message and act on it, not the rich people or the political and religious leaders who were wedded to their wealth and positions.
What is more important, the story of Naaman reminds us that when God shows up God can work through anyone. God was able to work through a servant girl, the servant of a prophet, even a general’s servants, to bring about the healing of Naaman. The same is true of the seventy who were sent out by Jesus. The people to whom they were sent no doubt expected that you had to be learned in the ancient texts like the rabbis, in order to heal, preach, or drive out demons. Jesus’ friends were largely unlettered, certainly lay people without any special training. God was able to work through them. Sent by Jesus, bearing his authority so to speak, the seventy could also be instruments of God, in healing, driving out demonic spirits, and proclaiming God’s realm.
So do the stories of Naaman’s healing or of Jesus’ sending out seventy followers have anything to say to us? Do we believe that God only works through certain people, or in certain ways or places? How many times have we said, for example, “We’ve always done it that way?” Episcopalians are very good at saying that! Or “We tried that once, and it didn’t work?” Do we longtime Episcopalians think that the only prayers that God will hear are those contained within the Book of Common Prayer? The Book of Common Prayer is a liturgical treasure house, to be sure, and we trust that God will be present to us in the sacraments. But doesn’t God also respond to the prayers of Baptists, or Catholics, or Jews, or Muslims? Don’t Buddhists or Hindus also have something to teach us about how and where God shows up?
Are we among the powerful and well-off? Do we think we have nothing to learn from those of a lower social or economic status than ourselves? For example, don’t the folks who come to Loaves and Fishes also have something to teach us about faith? I am always struck by the people who give me the slips of paper on which they have requested prayers. They remind me again and again that, somehow, they have faith that our prayers will help their relatives or friends.
Now here’s a risky thought: is it possible that we could be instruments of God’s action? Might you stand in the place of Naaman’s wife’s servant girl, of Elisha’s servant, or of Naaman’s servants? Might you be sent, like one of the seventy, to heal and to preach the nearness of God’s realm? Oh, perish the thought! For so many of us, the good news of God, the nearness of God’s realm, especially as we experience God’s nearness in this church, is a well-kept secret. Or at least, we think that you have to be wearing a collar in order to be God’s instrument for others.
So here’s another story, a true story. A woman lay in a hospital bed. She had a cancerous tumor in her brain. She had been given two different kinds of treatments, the best that her doctors had in their arsenal, and both had failed. The tumor was not shrinking. Plus, she had had a mild stroke. As she lay in her hospital bed, now exhausted by the physical and occupational therapy that had followed the stroke, she began to wonder if it was time to abandon aggressive treatment and consider hospice. The attending nurse asked her if she had a pastor. The woman hesitated. The pastor of the church she had attended was leaving that church. However, she had a devoted husband, who had taken a leave of absence from his job to care for her. She had a network of friends who visited her almost daily. Other friends wrote encouraging letters and notes and commented on her Facebook posts. Yet other friends let her know that they were praying for her. Did she have a pastor? Finally, the woman said, “I have many pastors. God is caring for me.”
So here’s the real point, the good news, of the stories of Naaman and of the sending of the seventy. We are all sent. We can all be God’s instruments. You don’t have to be powerful, rich, learned, pious, good-looking, well-educated, or anything else. You don’t have to have studied the ancient texts. You don’t have to wear a collar. God shows up, unexpectedly perhaps, through us, whoever we are, whenever we care for each other – whoever that other is. God can and will work through us, perhaps when we least expect it, to heal and comfort others.
God’s energy is here now, ready to work through you. Dust off your sandals, speak your piece, visit those in need, work for peace and justice, and partner with God in bringing God’s reign nearer.
