Sermon delivered 15 February 2009
by Rev. Dr John Evans
Words fail us as we reflect on the horrors of the past week. And indeed I want to suggest, perhaps controversially, that to continue to talk further about the fires is not helpful.
Respectful, silent solidarity with all who suffer and with all who serve, together with our own personal lament before God, at this point is perhaps our best response. The issues and the questions abound – and in time we can dwell more intentionally upon them – but for us removed from places of such loss (although we are touched and indeed shaken by the tragedy) – words, indeed words in sermons, can be cheap, unthoughtful, lack respect and can become like idle chatter. I wish to suggest our communal silence can be a greater witness and a source of hope and support at this time. Job’s comforters did get one thing right – they sat with Job after disaster befell him for seven days and did not utter a word.
Today our lectionary readings are about healing, healing that speaks of inclusion and breaking down barriers – healing for which we must reach out and offer ourselves; healing which we also need at this time; healing which is a witness to community and celebrates that our life is not lived in isolation and that it is not all “just about me.”
Jesus healing the leper, by Jean-Marie Doze (1864)
The story from Mark is of Jesus being approached by a leper; or perhaps someone who may not be suffering leprosy as we know that disease today, but certainly a skin condition, and certainly because of the Jewish law, this person was regarded as unclean and excluded from society. This person’s difficultly was not just that they were – well, unclean and ill – but that their human dignity was diminished and they were excluded from all social life. The leper confronts Jesus: “If you choose, you can make me clean”. “If you choose.” Jesus is firm – “I do choose”, and breaking all those laws of exclusion in the Jewish law, reaches out and touches this man . . . and of course, he is healed.
Was it a social healing, or a physical healing? What we know is he became a new person who, despite Jesus’ protestation to keep this news to himself and only show himself to the priests, he enthusiastically tells the world he is healed.
The story of Naaman is another great healing story involving someone who was a leper. Here the story of healing is not so much about social inclusion and breaking down barriers as Jesus did – for Naaman himself was not a Jew. This story is about how we misunderstand what is involved in healing, in our own healing, and how much of our healing is actually within our own power and control. Naaman’s healing is a story with great poignancy for us today – and especially as we cope with tragedies in our midst.
Briefly then, the story. Naaman was the military commander for the King of Aram. He suffered from leprosy. Although it is not stated in the narrative, this fact must have caused some difficulty for him in this role – and not to mention, not being well. One can assume he had tried to get better – all to no avail. He desperately wanted not to have this skin disease.
The first interesting feature of the story then occurs. His path to eventual healing begins with an unlikely source. An unnamed young girl, captured from the land of Israel in one of their military skirmishes, is the source of insight into how he may be healed. Also later in the story, it is Naaman’s servants who provide to him the critical advice and counsel. Healing, and advice on healing, may come from unlikely sources. Are we open to hearing about hope from places we least expect? Are we open to God when we least expect it? Over this past week we have experienced the tyranny of the expert, arrayed against each other in their different camps about what is the best policy at the time of a fire, before a fire and so on. As a community, and more importantly as individuals, are we open to the voice of the outsider; say, the cutting insight of a child – as was the case here with Naaman – as we look to a way for healing? The point really is, does a person speak wisdom and truth; and not what is their status and reputation?
Naaman accepted this advice about the possible helpfulness of a holy man in Samaria – but then proceeded to put his own spin on what this involved; or at least his own assumptions as to what he needed to do. Aram and Israel were not friendly nations – so wisely he raised the matter with his king. And here everything proceeded to go horribly wrong for Naaman. But then don’t we do the same?
If we were told that a complete stranger can help, even a complete stranger to whom you may think you are socially, intellectually, culturally superior, can help – you would want to impress, at least feel you are in control. Certainly you would not want to be embarrassed by the experience. This would be an occasion to get the suit out and wear a tie – we might think. For our own healing – do we really present ourselves as we are; warts and all, if you like? Or is our mask we show to the world, or even to our doctor, a great impediment to us having a full life?
Here Naaman thought the way to go was to overwhelm the King of Israel with signs of Naaman’s status. He would bring gifts and a letter of authority from his own king to this king. And because kings believe themselves to be all powerful and can do all sorts of amazing things, this letter would pander to that view, by requesting the king of Israel to heal Naaman. At this point, everything really does go pear-shaped for Naaman. But then it is quite predictable and amusing all the same. The king of Israel felt he smelled a rat. This was some sort of trap. The king thinks – I am asked to heal this foreign dignitary, and if I fail, this foreign nation will accuse me of that failure and there will be war. You might say this is the first recorded version of the ‘steak knives’ reflex. You know, when we hear the advertisement and its parting words to convince us to buy are that we also get a set of steak knives, absolutely free – we know, something just tells us, this is a lousy deal. The king of Israel was not persuaded by the ten talents of silver, or the six thousand shekels and all those clothes. This was lousy deal Naaman was offering.
Fortunately for Naaman, Elisha heard of the kerfuffle, and Naaman was invited to visit the prophet – the person the young girl had all along suggested he should visit. The story then turns on what Naaman expects would be a cure; and what actually turned out to be needed.
Elisha the prophet, quietly and without fuss, says, “Wash in the Jordan seven times.” Naaman thinks, “Is that all?” He thought, “For me, at the very least there should be some sort of great religious show – calling on the name of the Lord – and then and there he would be healed.” And washing in the Jordan – well, there are greater rivers in his own country, why not those? A bit like telling a Melburnian that the only place for a cure was in Sydney. Naaman was fuming. . . which of course can be the response we exhibit when we are told things about our lives.
Naaman washes in the Jordan
Naaman’s servants then offer some very sage advice – which is perhaps more true today, than it was then. “Look Naaman, if you were told to do something difficult, complicated, even expensive – you would have done it. You were told to do something very simple – wash and be clean. . . and you don’t do it.”
Simple solutions, obvious solutions, wise solutions abound in our world – but what do we do? We dismiss them because we know better; we dismiss them because they are beneath us; we dismiss them because we really do know the solution suggested is true. Healing may come from the simple and obvious – isn’t it called Ockham’s Razor?
Prophets like Elisha — like Jesus of Nazareth — were people who were seen to have miraculous healing powers. They were also people who could see the truth about human life and the barriers to the full life God would wish us to live. It is little wonder Jesus so often linked physical healing with the forgiveness of sins. Our sinfulness is often the problem – we are our own worst enemy sometimes. Our self-centredness becomes a block and barrier to a full life.
In this story in Mark, Jesus also shows that healing is something we need to offer others; we can offer to others. The message of the gospel, of God’s love, of the hope we have in Christ is there. Healing is something which we can choose to do – and we can offer healing by reaching out, breaking down those barriers – like Jesus did with the man with leprosy. As Naaman found, healing can be more than just finding the magic cure – it means being open to the surprising word of God coming from unexpected directions. It means being true to yourself – not trying to avoid who you really are; and that, ultimately, true healing can be very simple if we listen and understand God’s love for us – just as Naaman discovered.
Healing can also be very difficult too.
