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February 12, 2006 - Epiphany 6, Year B

It's one of those stories
where we're never quite sure
whose side
we're supposed to be on.

On the one hand
there's Naaman. A rich man, a powerful man, a man
of substance,
but tormented by a terrible disease.
It began
with just a patch of skin
that went a strange color, pale
kind of like a burn blister
but he hadn't been burned.
And then he noticed
that when he poked at it
he couldn't feel anything.
And it began to spread.
He didn't realize
he'd injured his hand
until he noticed
it was infected,
and by then the bone and the cartilage and skin
had scarred and stiffened and twisted.
And he began to limp, and his vision blurred
as the grit and sand and sun
scarred his dried out corneas.
He was a powerful man,
and by insisting on his privacy
and taking refuge in the excuse of busyness
he had been able to hide it,
but it was becoming impossible,
and already his wife
and servants had guessed
and begun to keep their distance.

His body had become disfigured
and his relationships as well,
and the disease and disfigurement was spreading
to his soul.

It was only by chance
that out of all the captives that he'd taken
in military action,
out of all of them, he'd kept one slave to work in his household,
a private attendant
for his wife.

It was only by chance
that that young girl
had heard of a man
back in her homeland,
had heard of a man
who could work miraculous things,
make food from near nothing,
purify things that had gone bad,
even raised a child
from death,
this young girl, this slave
had heard of the prophet
who maybe
could even
heal leprosy.

And it was only by chance
that instead of holding that knowledge close,
sullen and resentful,
carrying a secret
that made her more powerful
than her disfigured
owner,
instead of that
she wondered aloud
in the hearing of her mistress,
if maybe the prophet
might be able
to help.

It was only by chance
by chance — or perhaps
the grace of God.

Either way
Naaman took the chance.
Being a rich man, a powerful man, a man of substance
he went first to the king.
Diplomatic channels
were the way to get things done,
a letter of introduction, copious gifts,
and of course
all the weight of influence
of the official representative
of a powerful nation
graciously visiting
a weaker
state.
It was the obvious thing to do.

And so he arrived
at the door of the king of Israel, laden with gold, silver, clothing, a letter of introduction,
and a plea.
The problem was
that the king of Israel
had no idea
what Naaman
was talking about.
Healing? Miracles?
The king couldn't do any of that.
And he began to panic.

Naaman, meanwhile, was getting impatient. He was an army man. What was this petty king
fussing about? Surely he knew
what was going on in his country,
under his command. Any good soldier would.
On the other hand . . .maybe this was why
his own army's repeated raids on Israel's lands
had met with little resistance.

But then a message came
from a prophet.
And next thing
Naaman was out the door,
with his horses and chariots and gold and silver and fine clothes,
on his way
to see this prophet
of Israel.

But the prophet didn't even come out to meet him. He just sent a message for Naaman
to go wash in the Jordan.
And Naaaman
was not impressed.
"I'm offering you a king's ransom, and you tell me this?
Why should I
with all my power, all my money,
why should I go wash
in that dirty stream
you call a river?"

That's Naaman.

And then there was Elisha.
He's supposed to be the hero, I guess.
After all, he was the one chosen by God, passed the mantle,
the authority, the power, the reputation
of the great prophet Elijah.
He did his miracles, an everlasting container of oil,
stagnant water turned pure,
a dead child
brought back to life.
He had all the God credentials.
But there was something about him
that's just wasn't
very likeable.

He heard about this military man,
come from a warring tribe with his letter of introduction, his gold and silver and fine clothing,
he heard about him and sent to him.
But then, when Naaman arrived, instead of going out to greet him
as hospitality would demand,
Elisha
just sat inside his house.
Not even a glass of water
to cool the visitor's parched tongue.
Instead
he sent a messenger, a servant.
"Go wash in the Jordan
seven times."

Naaman was understandably offended.
But eventually, thanks to a servant
who summoned up his courage and said to Naaman,
"You know, it's worth a chance. What have you got to lose?"
eventually
Naaman went and did what he was told,
and stepped out of the water
his body
as strong and beautiful
as it had ever been.
It wasn't until
Naaman got back to the prophet's hut
that Elisha
was willing to see him;
even then the prophet
was ungracious,
refusing the gifts
Naaman pressed upon him.
And later
when the prophet's servant
sneaked after Naaman
and asked for just a tiny fraction
of what Naaman offered (after all, he deserved a reward — he's been the one that had to go tell a mighty warrior
to wash in a muddy stream),
when the servant came back
with his small reward,
Elisha condemned him
and cursed him
with Naaman's
leprosy.

Naaman. Elisha. They're two of a kind, autocratic, imperious,
men of great power.
Naaman is convinced
money can buy anything.
Elisha is convinced
that his prophetic power
his prophetic pedigree
granted by the mantle of Elijah
gives him license to act
as he pleases.
We can find excuses for their behavior,
but the reality is
that there is nothing very likable
in either of them.
Neither
is likely to become
our hero.
And I don't particularly want
to be on the side of either one.
In fact, to be honest
I'd really rather lavish my attention
on that young slave
who first dared tell her mistress
about the healing prophet,
those courageous servants
who dared tell the angry Naaman
to go wash
in the Jordan.
They
are worthy
of honor.

Except I suspect
that it is Naaman and Elisha
who are more like us.
Like Naaman
we are full of our own importance. We might like to think of ourselves as humble, but in reality
we expect to be considered important enough
to get full direct personal attention from God.
And if we don't
we tend to stand outside and rage
or turn
and walk away.
Never mind
that God sends messengers,
never mind
that God is known
to be trustworthy.
We want what we want
and we want it
now.

And like Elijah
we know the authority of our pedigree,
and sometimes
we forget to be gracious,
sometimes
forget
that it is really God at work in us
and that we do nothing on our own.
We are proud
and let no one
forget it.

But you know what? You know what?
God is at work
even
in spite of us.
God is at work
even when we are arrogant, full of our own
self-importance.
Neither Elisha
nor Naaman
do anything at all
to make them worthy
of God's attention,
God's grace.
But God blessed them
anyway.
And made them part of something
far
far bigger
than they could ever have imagined.
So that Naaman is
remembered this day
not because of his power and wealth
but because God healed him,
Elisha is remembered
not because of his pedigree
but because he became the agent of God's healing.
Grace comes,
but it comes, so often
not because, but in spite of us,
grace comes
and it doesn't obey the rules,
grace comes
and it is a source
of blessing.

Nothing we do deserves it. Nothing we do deserves it.
We step forward
and suddenly we are in a new world,
and God is among us.
Not chance
but the grace
of God.

Sermon ©Raewynne J. Whiteley 2006