Proper 23 C
All Souls’, Mechanicsville
October 13, 2013
THE SIMPLEST THING
“Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult,
would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said
was, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” (From 2 Kings 5:1-15)
The simplest things in life sometimes elude us. Intelligent people
can make things so complicated that they miss the obvious. So it was
with Naaman, that mighty Aramean warrior, in this morning’s Old Testament lesson. Naaman was so impressed with himself, so intoxicated
by his own power and authority, that he was blind to the simplest solution to his most urgent need—a cure for his leprosy. He had been victorious on the battlefield; he enjoyed the highest esteem of his king.
He lived the high life; little people and little things meant nothing to
him. But he did suffer from that nagging skin disease. So at least he listened to his wife (always a good thing to do, no matter how important
a man thinks he is!). She repeated a remark made by a lowly, unnamed
servant girl who had been taken captive on one of Naaman’s raids into
Israel. “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria!” she
had exclaimed. “He would cure him of his leprosy.”
So Naaman sets out and travels to Samaria, Israel’s capital.. First he
reports in to the king of Israel, bringing with him a letter from the king
of Aram. But he brings with him far more than that! To get the whole
incredible story, we have to read several verses which for some unknown reason have been left out of the printed lectionary for today:
“[Naaman] went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand
shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments.” Now, ten talents of silver,
mind you, is about 756 pounds of it! Six thousand shekels of gold is
about 151 pounds of that precious metal! We’re not talking about
small change here! Naaman makes his servants load up over 900
pounds of silver and gold. Then the letter from the king of Aram to the
king of Israel—it reads: “When this letter reaches you, know that I have
sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy.”
Back now to the printed lectionary: here’s the king’s reaction: He
thinks the whole thing is a ploy, a trick! Aram and Israel have had a
long history of distrust and hostility. It is beyond suspicious that a
prominent Aramean general would show up in Samaria with a letter
like this for the king, and an unbelievably generous gift for the famous
prophet, whom he hopes to persuade to heal his leprosy! The king almost has a stroke! He tears his clothes and cries out, “Am I God, to give
death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.”
Now comes the climax—now we learn how a remark—just a simple
remark--could stop a proud man dead in his tracks, and prick his bubble, and transform his life. Somehow, Elisha hears that Naaman has arrived in Israel, and the king is all upset. He sends the king a message:
“Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may
learn that there is a prophet in Israel.” So Naaman, the powerful Aramean warrior, arrives at Elisha’s house, with his horses, his chariots, his
servants, and his gifts: 756 pounds of silver and 151 pounds of gold.
And what does Elisha do? Elisha doesn’t even come to the door! He
simply sends a messenger out to tell Naaman, “Go, wash in the Jordan
seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.”
Naaman is apoplectic—you just don’t treat an important man like
Naaman that way! He erupts in rage, turns angrily away and says, “T
thought that for me (did you get that—“for me”—he’s accustomed to
preferential treatment!) he would surely come out, and stand and call
on the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the
spot, and cure the leprosy! Are not…the rivers of Damascus better than
all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?” Now,
see what happens: As he huffs and puffs in rage, once again it’s a couple of lowly, unnamed servants who change the life of a celebrated
general: “Father,” they say, “if the prophet had commanded you to do
something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more,
when all he said to you was, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” The proud warrior’s bubble is pricked: he goes down to the Jordan River and immerses
himself seven times, just like Elisha ordered. And as he comes up onto
the riverbank, dripping wet, probably feeling silly and humiliated, suddenly he discovers that he has been healed. “His flesh was restored,”
says the text, “like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.”
Something so simple: a quiet word of counsel from a lowly servant
to a proud, self-important general—but that’s the way God so often
works. Our job is to listen—to listen to the whisperings of God in our
hearts, through an unexpected encounter, a remark dropped by a
friend, a coincidence we look back upon and see there the hand of God.
I was feeling very proud of myself many years ago after receiving my
commission as a Coast Guard officer. Resplendent in my new uniform, I
was behind the wheel of my car on my way to an important meeting,
when suddenly another car cut in front of me and we almost crashed. I
was very mad, and very immature, and determined to show off my authority. So I followed that car: wherever it went I went; wherever it
turned I turned. Finally it pulled into the driveway of a house—and I
pulled in right behind it! The driver got out, and I got out—and gave
him a piece of my mind! But he was older and wiser than I. In a quiet
voice, he pricked my bubble. He simply said, “I am so sorry. You are
absolutely right—I was careless; I cut you off. I do apologize.” With
that simple word he cut me down to size. And I did a little growing up.
After stints in the Coast Guard and the insurance business, I had a
three-year stint as a theological student. I learned a lot about God and
the Bible and the Church and the Christian Faith, and how to be a
priest. But one of the most valuable things I learned, for my soul’s
health, was the importance of listening to people. A simple remark by a
professor has stayed with me: “Just remember, whatever you don’t say
can’t be held against you!” We love others when we’re good listeners.
After I graduated and was ordained and was called to a parish out
West, I felt like God’s great gift to the Diocese of Eastern Oregon! I
needed to be cut down to size again, and God did that through a parishioner named Bill Peterson, who owned a furniture store in town and
was a vestryman at our church. One weekend it was my parish’s turn
to host the annual diocesan convention. Episcopalians came from fifteen or so little churches in that vast rural area; and I raced around
frantically like a self-important rector feeling responsible for every detail—until my friend Bill pricked my bubble with a simple piece of advice: “Doug,” he said, “take it easy; trust other people; it doesn’t all
depend on you!” Looking back, I knew that was a word from God.
There’s a little of Naaman, that anxious, arrogant Aramean, in us all.
And it’s all about fear. We fear we must go to extravagant lengths to
prove our worth to others; whereas what God asks of us is the simplest
thing—just to be ourselves as God has made us, to accept ourselves as
God accepts us, and to love others as God loves and accepts them.