Scriptures: Luke 10:1-11; 2 Kings 5:1-14
Back after the exodus from Egypt, able to anticipate how the power would corrupt the nation, rule by king was not the model God desired for God’s people, Israel. But when the people begged again and again for a sovereign like their neighbors had, God reluctantly obliged and gave them King Saul. By the time the story of Elisha healing the Aramean commander, Naaman, comes along in 2 Kings, it’s been about two hundred years since Israel’s leadership experiment with kings had begun.
After Saul came David. After David came Solomon, and after that the names get harder and harder to recite, both in terms of their pronunciation and in the details of their reigns that are less and less exemplary the longer the monarchy continues. The quality of leadership in Israel went downhill quickly, eventually even causing a split among the twelve tribes into two different kingdoms, with two different capitals and two different temples. The people broke the covenant God so graciously gave them left and right, up and down. The people turned to idols and abandoned worship of God alone. Those in positions of power and relative wealth oppressed the poor and denied justice to orphans and widows, taking advantage of the most vulnerable people in society for the benefit of the most comfortable. Simply put, God’s people fell apart at the seams.
Which is how a young girl ended up in service to the enemy’s wife.
Naaman is the commander of the army of the king of Aram, located north of Israel and centered in Damascus, and the writer of 2 Kings tells us right off the bat, that he had been given victory over Israel by the Lord. Now that might seem odd, that God gave victory to one of Israel’s neighbors and enemies, but it’s not too odd in the book of 2 Kings. This book is all about how God tries to send warnings to Israel and Judah about their fall from covenantal living; it’s about how God tries to get their attention and bring them back to faithfulness. Often this happens by foreign armies over-powering God’s chosen people, teaching the lesson that political nation is weak because of the weak spiritual condition of the people. The Arameans are just one in a string of foreign nations who are used by God to try to warn the Israelites that their lack of faithfulness to the covenant is going to be their downfall.
So, in some battle of yet another war this young girl, we don’t even have her name, is taken into captivity and enslaved in the commander’s household. She had to have been terrified, absolutely terrified – – taken from her home, her family, the only world she knew – – taken by these new people, to this new household, in this new city for who. knows. what. purposes. She ends up a gift to Naaman’s wife, another girl to wait on her, a token of his appreciation, a sign of his success and importance, another slaved added to his list of property.
A fictionalized novel of this story for young readers (Adara by Beatrice Gormley) imagines the young girl becomes her mistress’s story-teller, masterfully weaving tales about her beloved Israel for the double purpose of entertaining and keeping her memories alive. One day, having noticed Naaman’s increasing discomfort with a chronic skin condition, she spins in a tale about the prophet Elisha back in Israel, the successor to the great prophet Elijah, carrying his mantle and his reputation as he healed in the name of Yahweh and called the people away from the worship of Baal. Certain of his ability to heal, she plants the seed of an idea in her mistress’s mind. “Take Naaman to Elisha, and he will be healed.”
She would be an easy player to overlook in this story, as she likely was in Naaman’s household. She’s a child. She’s a girl-child. She has no name, no family. She is an Israelite, and the Arameans just showed how insignificant Israelites are by defeating them in battle. She is very literally a nobody in the middle of a whole story of power players, and still she speaks up. Still she finds a way, she finds the courage to tell what she knows to be true, what she has either experienced herself or what she has heard about others experiencing at the hand of Elisha. This young girl, putting her fear aside, looking with compassion on her enemy, points with confidence to the one who can heal, and it is because of her word, her courage, her testimony that healing eventually comes.
She stands in stark contrast to the king of Israel to whom Naaman, his entourage, and his riches go with a letter from the king of Aram. Remember, the girl told Naaman to seek a prophet, but Naaman’s boss, the king of Aram, seems a bit skeptical. Some little known prophet seems an unlikely source of healing, so the king tells Naaman to go instead to the king of Israel. Certainly another king must have the power, the resources, the influence to find the right source of healing.
Society tells us a lot about what power and greatness are and who has it. In describing the way some US senators in the mid-twentieth chose to throw their power around, journalist and author Robert Caro told the story of Senator Carl Hayden of Arizona, who would enter the Senate cafeteria and lay claim to a table by putting his cane down on top of it. It didn’t matter if the table was already occupied, as it often was. The group of secretaries or Senate staffers who were inevitably sitting there knew that if that cane was laid on the table, they had better be gone by the time he returned with his food.
Kings were supposed to have THIS kind of power and influence in the ancient world. Their wishes were everyone’s command. But the request to heal Naaman that came to the king of Israel, and his own reaction to it, show instead how irrelevant he has become. He doesn’t know anything about healing. In fact, he doesn’t even know there is someone in his own nation who does. Used to his power and privilege, used to being the center of everything , he displays instead how disengaged, how out of touch he is with the world around him, with the places where life is really being lived and healing is really taking place right in his own nation.
A young girl captive in another nation points to the place of healing, but the very king of Israel is downright useless at leading others to new life.
The kind of power the king holds is alluring and intoxicating. I’m sure I’m not the only one here who has ever uttered, “If I could just be in charge of it all for one day…”. While our intentions probably start out well, we’d repair the roads, ensure there are jobs for everyone, end gun violence, or fix the healthcare system, it isn’t too long before we dabble in the personal comforts – a little more money in the 401K to make sure retirement and the family are taken care of, a bit more room to spread out in the house, or a more desirable location. Being in charge of everything, with access to resources and the admiration or at least obedience of people, that doesn’t sound so bad.
And yet, the scripture warns, this kind of power isn’t from where true healing flows. A self-absorbed king can’t even imagine that a request for healing might best be addressed by someone else; laments that he’s even being bothered with the question and only sees it as a taunt from an enemy who recently overpowered his own armies. He doesn’t even think to look for someone else, Elisha, who might possibly have a power, a gift, that he himself doesn’t possess. His delusions of grandeur prevent him from aiding the person right in front of him.
It’s the exact opposite of the kind of power the young girl shows us, sharing what she knew of a source of healing with even her enemy from a position of great humility. It’s the exact opposite of the power with which Jesus sends his disciples out in his name – with practically nothing of any earthly value – no purse, no bag, no sandals even – simply to share peace to the homes that they came to, to cure the sick and tell those with ears to hear it, that the kingdom of God has come near. They aren’t to rely on their wealth, or their status or their fame. Actually, Jesus warns them, there are people who won’t receive them very well at all. They will not necessarily run into adoring, obedient crowds everywhere they go, but their mission continues, their healing in another place, their message shared even if they are not received with banquets and honors.
The way Jesus sends us out in the world, the way we are called to point to his grace and his love, the physical and spiritual healing he provides, the power with which we are infused by his love, it’s intended to look more like the power wielded by the girl, than the king. It’s intended to look less like climbing a ladder of prestige, and more like partnering with and influencing the people who are right in front of us. It’s intended to look less like being paid in silver and gold, and more like receiving just what we need while doing what is right. It’s intended to look less like wearing robes given by kings, and more like getting dust caked on our feet as we move in the world touching those who hurt, serving those who are vulnerable, freeing the ones who are oppressed. It’s intended to look less like shaking hands with royalty, and more like lifting up the down-trodden. It’s intended to look less like the cowardice of a king who turns only to his own limited abilities, and more like the courage of a girl who draws on the wisdom, power, and strength of the community to bring healing to one who suffers.
What would it look like if we took on this kind of courage, if we worked in the world with this kind of power? “We” the people gathered here today, but also “we” the Church, “we” first Presbyterian Church of Allentown. Speaking of God’s healing and kindom not angrily, not in a bullying way, but simply and compassionately. Telling what we know to be true, what we have experienced. We know of a prophet. We have seen a healer. We have heard the good news of God’s gift in Jesus our Lord. We have experienced his grace and his truth and his welcome.
What would it look like if we took on the young girl’s blindness to differences? Inviting not just those who are exactly like us, but those who we would otherwise hold at a distance, even those we might call enemies.
What would it look like if we had her willingness to put her reputation on the line by risking everything she had – – her word and her honor – – to do the right thing? Speaking up for what we believe to be true even if it makes us unpopular, even if it could invite ridicule, even if it means we’re rejected.
What would it look like to be the church that points to Jesus for all who come seeking, that strives for healing for all who suffer, that welcomes all who desire wholeness and acceptance and peace? It’s my greatest prayer that, sent in Jesus’ name, drawing on his power and desire for justice, we will find out together.
