Sermons

“Making Yourself a Place in History”

Psalm 30; 2 Kings 5:1-14 – Rev. Rebecca Littlejohn

Vista La Mesa Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), La Mesa, California – July 3, 2016

Holy God, bless the speaking and the hearing of these words, that your Spirit might empower us to bear witness to your mercy, your power and your love. We pray in Jesus’ name, Amen.

I love the story of Naaman the leprous commander. The first time this passage came up in the lectionary, when I was new in ministry, I was so taken by the story that I turned it into a skit and sprung it on my Sunday School class for them to perform in church that morning. Fortunately for you, our Sunday morning Bible study went on break, as of today. But seriously, there is so much here: all sorts of national and international dynamics, kings and prophets, conquerors and slaves, disease and miracles. To reflect on all that this weekend, as we celebrate our country’s independence, puts it in a new light and brings in even more layers of meaning.

There are two lessons I’d like to draw out of the story this morning, which I think can be instructive for us as Christians and citizens. The first lesson is this: Prejudice does not lead to healing. Naaman does pretty well at first – He’s willing to listen to the suggestion of a slave girl from the country he’s helped conquer. He gets his king to give him permission to go humble himself before the ruler of that conquered nation. He is patient with the run-around he gets at the palace until the king of Israel figures out that it’s Elisha he’s really come to see. But when he gets to Elisha’s house, it’s clear his patience has run out. He’s a pretty important guy, after all. And this prophet, this supposed Man of God, won’t even come out to see him. He just sends down instructions to go bathe in some dirty local river. And at that point, Naaman has had enough. If all he had to do was bathe in a river, why did he come all this way? Why did he humble himself before these vassals? Why did he offer all these gifts? The rivers in his hometown were sparkling and wide. He was an important guy. This disease was a big deal. Surely it deserved something more impressive than a lowly messenger delivering instructions to go swimming in some inferior watering hole.

But those were the instructions, and after being talked down from his position of pride and superiority, Naaman followed them. And it worked. He was healed! But he almost wasn’t. He almost went home without a cure. Simply because he was convinced that the rivers in Damascus were better than the River Jordan. Who knows what sort of international incident it might have turned into, if Naaman hadn’t been able to overcome his prejudice.

And that brings us to the second lesson I’d like us to reflect on today. This seems, on the surface, to be a story about kings and commanders and most especially, Elisha the Man of God, whose impressive feats the Book of Kings is largely concerned with. But there are two pivotal moments in this tale when the drama hinges on the bold actions of much humbler characters.

Can you imagine being a young girl captured by the Aramean army and forced into slavery? I suppose we should consider her lucky that she became a lady’s maid, rather than a sex slave in the barracks, as was no doubt a possibility. What was it that motivated her to speak up about Elisha’s power? Was she truly speaking out of compassion for Naaman’s illness? Did she really think anyone would listen to her? Was she just expressing a little Israelite pride, trying to hold onto any connection to her homeland she could? Did she have any idea that her comment would set off a chain of interactions involving kings? If she had, would she still have spoken up?

And then, of course, there is the moment we discussed earlier, when Naaman is about to abandon his quest for a cure because of his own prejudice. He isn’t talked down by the King of Israel or by Elisha the Man of God. It’s his own servants – who might be expected to share his prejudices, I suppose – who point out how silly it would be give up at that point. “If Elisha had told you to do something difficult, you would have done it, right? So how much easier is it to just go bathe in the river?” It seems obvious enough, but if we keep in mind the power dynamics here, it is clear that this was a bold and even risky move on the part of the servants. Naaman was already cranky, and he was their master. They could have been beheaded or something for insubordination. How are we to imagine this relationship? Were they long-time servants, who had witnessed Naaman’s extended struggle with this disease? Were they also captive Israelites who secretly thought the Jordan was better than the Abana or Pharpar rivers? “Father,” they called him, implying, perhaps, a level of intimacy resulting from a lengthy, mostly respectful relationship. Whatever it was, something gave them the courage to speak up and help Naaman accept the cure he’d been offered, which led to his healing, and as we’d see if we read a little further, his conversion into a follower of Elisha’s God. These servants made the vital difference.

If this story of kings and commanders and prophets had only been a story of kings and commanders and prophets, it wouldn’t have been a story at all. Without the seemingly unimportant characters, none of it would have happened. Perhaps I am making a leap here, but I feel like this is a significant lesson for us. We are in the midst of an almost absurdly convoluted national drama. I am hopeful that the vast majority of us in this room voted in the recent California primary. But do any of us really feel as though we have a significant role to play in the way this story is playing out?

The amount of money at play in elections in this country has had a suffocating effect on the perceived capacity of ordinary citizens to make a difference. Most of us just assume there’s very little we can do about any of it. Many stop paying attention to the details, since they’re mostly manufactured and exaggerated, to keep up interest in the horserace aspect of the thing. But what if this story prodded us to be less fatalistic and cynical? What if we took seriously our own power and dared to take full advantage of our positions as citizens? That Israelite slave girl and Naaman’s servants weren’t even living in a democracy, yet they spoke up and made a difference. What could happen if we were as bold as they were?

There are so many good examples in this story. What could happen if we had compassion for our leaders’ vulnerabilities? What could happen if we encouraged them to look for solutions in unexpected places? Or to ask for help from perceived enemies? What could happen if we dared to make our leaders see that prejudice leads to stupid decisions? That rejecting help because it doesn’t come in the form we prefer is cutting off our nose to spite our face?

What would it take for us to involve ourselves in the national and international stories of our times, with the boldness and compassion and wisdom of the Israelite slave girl and Naaman’s servants? Are we merely lacking the conviction that we could actually have any impact on things? Or have we abdicated our responsibility as citizens, preferring to worry about the details of our individual lives, which are, no doubt, quite enough to fill up our days?

I wonder if, this Independence Day weekend, we might renew our commitment to living as engaged citizens, allowing our faith to both guide us and motivate us. The stories of our sacred texts show us that God moves in mysterious and surprising ways. What if one of those surprise moves is you? How can we know our potential to impact our communities and our nation until we try? Doesn’t the biblical witness prod us to get involved, out of compassion for those who are suffering?

And if we do dare to get involved, what would we do? Doesn’t the gospel compel us to proclaim that all voices deserve to be heard? That the solutions to our problems will be found when we listen to all those affected? Doesn’t our faith teach us that the barriers that seem to divide us are false, that we are brothers and sisters with all God’s people? We’re not slaves, who risk imprisonment for speaking up. We’re citizens, with votes and freedom of speech and all sorts of ways of making our convictions known without reprisal. How can we ignore such privilege? How can we waste such liberty?

If we’re going to act out the story of Naaman, let us take up the parts of the Israelite slave girl and Naaman’s servants. Let us dare to speak up when we can help others access resources that will alleviate their suffering. Let us speak truth to power when prejudice threatens to erect barriers to healing and wholeness. Let us assume that the right time and place might just be the time and place we find ourselves in, for who is to say it isn’t? Who is to say that God isn’t working through us to form a more perfect union, to cultivate liberty and justice for all, in our communities, our nation, and our world? Alleluia and Amen!