Skinny Dip
2 Kings 5:1-14

July 8, 2008


A universal problem, not only in the ancient world, but in our modern world as well is that in any location people are divided up into two classifications - those who are from here and those who aren’t. You know who I am talking about - you are either one or the other - those strangers and foreigners who don’t have the right to tell us folk what to do, we who have been here since before Creation.

A famous social science survey at the beginning of the 20th century (1900) reported that 80% of the world’s population lived virtually their entire lives within a very small radius of where they were born, and 20% migrated to some other location. At the end of this turbulent and remarkable 20th century in which transportation and communication has advanced beyond imagination, a similar, more sophisticated study came up with amazing figures: 20% of the population moved from where they were born and 80% just stayed put.

This may seem to be an idle statistic fit for coffee hour conversation, but it does become enfleshed in many of our habits and decisions. Immigration laws have been enacted and enforced based upon who is a desirable and undesirable stranger. Small towns, small churches, schools and organizations spend a tremendous amount of time and energy developing and enforcing rules and boundaries to define just who we are and who we aren’t and to make sure we have the strangers under control. Earlier this year you may remember the small town in Quebec which produced rules of behaviour for immigrants - even though they had yet to have any immigrants move in. Religious faiths are especially expert at saying who is not really worthy to be one of us.

Alas and sigh, this “us against them,” “locals versus strangers to these here parts” is perhaps the most common sign of our humanity. It is what makes us unique and distinctive, as well as ugly and arrogant and cruel. It is not - as many people like to say - a witness to our ability to love people we know. Jesus pointedly declared that “even thieves love one another.” Love and faith and community are summoned to a higher, far more inclusive, level. When we do stumble across its vibrant existence, the kingdom of heaven is in our midst.

The Biblical world is a prime example of such a world, for many of its stories are centered around the triumph of those of Hebrew faith over those who did not believe in the same God, and therefore were usually their enemies. Only good things happen to those who believe in the same things we do. But even in the Bible, some of the narrators know that there is a better way closer to God’s perspective, so they sneak the story in under the radar. Out of the blue rides Na’aman the Aramean and his story is anything but home grown.

Those of you who can remember, were you really interested in hearing about the wonderful accomplishments of a Nazi general during World War II? How often does the Globe and Mail write about a Taliban general? Na’aman was a general, a good one, who had just defeated Israel and helped place the Promised Land into a vassal relationship with Aram. He defeated Israel’s army not only because he was skilled in the art of warfare, but because the Lord God of Israel had given him the victory. Now what kind of Bible says that?

Just by his name and national affiliation, all the original listeners knew Na’aman was a pagan, who, if he believed in any god, believed in lots of them. It was a profanity to even mention this general, and even if the Lord had given him the victory over Israel on account of Israel’s sins, Na’aman was not necessarily a good man.

This is the Bible, nevertheless, so while he is described as a mighty man of valour, Na’aman is a leper. There’s always something! No matter how good you get there is always something about you that drags you down. Modern media and communications do not allow any celebrity or politician escape from their weaknesses; the Bible makes his weakness the main agenda long before there were tabloids.

Lepers were the most grotesque and therefore the most unrighteous of people in that society, but by and large, the leaders, royalty and generals and nobles, did not contract leprosy. We know that such conditions are no respecter of class and race and social position, but it always seems to be news to us even now. What is so startling is that a person of Na’aman’s stature is reduced so low. Something is not right in the way of the world.

All too casually the narrator mentions a providential incident about which more than a few readers have been outraged. The violent blood sport in much of antiquity was a raiding expedition upon villages and cities of people who were strangers to you, people who therefore did not really count as human beings. In one such raid, the Arameans captured a young girl who became the servant of Na’aman’s wife. She was a slave yet her heart was with her master’s family and welfare. She told her mistress that there was a prophet in Samaria who could heal Na’aman of his leprosy. Her innocence and conviction bespoke the truth, so Na’aman carried through on the suggestion and asked permission from his king to venture into this strange land. They somehow thought that the prophet would heal anybody, even an enemy, such a radical and foolish thought.

The king was not grudging in the least, for Na’aman was his most valuable colleague, and sent a letter of introduction and a boat load of expensive gifts to sweeten the arrangement. It quickly turned out to be a problem of intercultural communication, for the King of Aram did not know how properly to make his request without offending the King of Israel. A request for healing became a blasphemous provocation of further warfare by the bully, a generous gift looked like a bribe. Upon hearing the cheerful requests of Aram, all the Israelite king could do was to rend his clothes, remember last week? “Am I God to be able to cure this man of leprosy. He just wants to pick a fight with us to raid and pillage our cities even more.” Remarkably in an age of evil kings, this king knew he wasn’t God!

The action stops for a moment, but rumours fly faster than the wind to Elisha’s house. The king had rent his clothes, and Elisha knows why. Send him to me, and this general will know that there is a prophet in Israel - that the God of the Universe speaks through one of our people, no matter how many battles he may have won.

Na’aman proceeds despite all this to Elisha’s house, in full dress and regalia, assuming that power begets power, as pompous as you can get. Elisha, however, refused to come out and play and commissioned his servant to deliver a simple message, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times and your skin will be pure and clean.” Na’aman did not want a simple message: he wanted the honour of real power acknowledging his real power - a big grandiose show, the appearance of the Holy Man himself, laying hands on the afflicted spot, and fireworks. He was insulted because he knew that his world, his nation and culture, were clearly better and, of course, civilized.

He was ready to go home to a couple of clean rivers in Damascus when his servants stopped him and made some sense. You would have been willing to do the hardest thing imaginable; all he suggests is something simple. Why not try it, it won’t take much? It took humility that Na’aman probably never knew he had and yes, seven skinny dips in the dirty Jordan made his skin pure and clean.

The story is not ended as Na’aman is converted to the God of Israel as the only God in the world, but he is a slow learner and keeps making gaffes with Elisha regarding the Hebrew faith. Converts always take a while to get the point, trying as they do to keep operating in the same sphere as their old life, while whistling a different tune. Still, Na’aman probably turned out to be a unique and powerful witness to a different way of understanding the world. Aram was never the same with him. And neither was Israel.

Israel learned - and are we not still Israel - that you don’t have to be a local, you don’t have to be from here to be the subject of God’s grace. God has a habit of blessing our enemies, our strangers and foreigners because despite our provincial protests they are God’s children too. The Biblical narrative draws in every manner of person into the drama, and most of them in fact are not from here.

The power of violence still holds terrible sway over how people relate to one another, but what is witnessed here is a completely different kind of power. Just because Na’aman was a competent wielder of power, and a noble person highly regarded by royalty, did not mean he was exempt from the diseases and predicaments of the lower classes. I trust we have figured out that one ourselves.

Na’aman may be powerful, but he needs help and who does he receive help from except his servants? That young Hebrew girl captured in a warring raid and his own male servants who address him as “Father.” They led him to the power of healing simply by their words, these people who were enslaved but who spoke to him out of their love. What kind of power does that?

Na’aman is healed not by means of an impressive demonstration of divine power, but by an anonymous tip from Elisha. Jesus frequently told sufferers “your faith has healed you,” but in this case Na’aman is healed once he has let go of his pretensions to power and humbled himself. Where else do you find real power, except in your humility?

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan