Here is your math quiz for Sunday morning: What comes after 75? (Answer 76) That’s the Spirit! (Pull fireworks).
Our nation is celebrating 234 years since our declaration of independence from England. The reason for our independence seems to be “arrogance”. In this case the arrogance of the British crown in imposing on the “colonists” an entire list of egregious actions. The list in the Declaration of Independence is fairly daunting. But a king would be well within his rights and historical precedence to perform such actions. The very idea that a king should allow his subjects to dictate his actions was laughable. Kings and other royalty considered themselves a breed apart, not subject to the same rules or responsibilities as the general population. If King George and his cronies had practiced better diplomacy, a bit more humility, we might still be part of the British Commonwealth. But such self-importance and condescension is one of the traits of humankind: We often think that we are better than those who are different from us. If we are better educated or have more money, or a nicer house, go to church more often, send our kids to better schools, then we can develop an attitude of superiority that lets us feel that it’s OK to treat someone in a demeaning manner.
Such a viewpoint is often a concern of both Paul and Jesus. Paul writes about it obliquely this morning when he points out that, “…if those who are nothing think they are something, they deceive themselves.” Jesus tells us that we are to be servants of all, not rulers. Humility is the key trait in both instances. In the Old Testament lesson today there is a great lesson on arrogance.
Jesus in Luke refers to the story of Naaman that we just heard when he gives the Pharisees their comeuppance. They are complaining that they need to see a sign from Jesus so that they can believe he is a prophet. But Jesus demurs, saying essentially that the children of Israel aren’t so special, “In the time of Elisha there were many lepers in Israel, but only Naaman, a Syrian (a foreigner) was cleansed.” The Pharisees were not happy with this remark, since they thought that they were special.
But I digress. The country Aram is now the region known as Syria and not much has changed from those times: the region is still often at war. Syria had the better army and had bested Israel on a number of occasions. Naaman was a hero of that country. Even his enemies knew him as a skillful commander. However, he had one problem, leprosy. In Israel, Naaman could never have been a commander; he could have been nothing, an outcast, untouchable. While he may have been disfigured, hard to look at, in Syria, he was judged on his skill as a general. He certainly had contacts in all the right circles. The one thing he couldn’t get was a cure for his disease.
Help comes from an unexpected source: a Jewish slave girl who was probably captured in a recent raid on Israel. She tells her mistress, Naaman’s wife, that there is a prophet in Israel that could cure him. When someone has tried all the respectable doctors and still has the disease, it’s time to call the shaman. I would bet that was what Naaman was thinking. “This is nuts. Some crazy prophet is going to cure me by waving his hands, saying some phony words and sacrificing a chicken. Well, it’s worth a try. I’ve tried everything else.” So Naaman goes to see his buddy the king of Syria. And he’s happy that there could be a solution to the leprosy problem. The war business has been a bit slow lately, so he gives Naaman permission to go and sends along a letter to the king of Israel. The entourage is prepared along with the money and changes of clothing that Naaman thinks he may need to pay for the cure.
Several weeks later, the parade comes to the king of Israel’s palace and gives the letter to him asking that Naaman be cured of his leprosy. The king thinks it’s a trick and gets really upset. He is afraid that Syria will declare war on Israel if he can’t cure Naaman.
I can imagine that if a military escort pulls up in front of my house and the commander hands me a letter from the president asking me to cure him, I would be both overwhelmed and suspicious. Is this a trap? If I can’t do it, what happens? I get the firing squad? I get drafted? Thrown in jail? Aaaarrrggghhh. No wonder the king of Israel tore his clothes.
Elisha hears of the distress of the king and sends a message requesting that the king send Naaman to him. The king scratches his head and considers that maybe this will get him out of the jam. If the prophet can’t do it then he can take the rap. It is somewhat odd to send a person to a prophet for a cure. We usually think of prophets like Nostradamus who tell the future or tell us how to behave. So the king gives Naaman the GPS coordinates and sends him on his way.
He parks all his stuff in Elisha’s front yard and practices his speech. Perhaps a slight bow and “Good sir, I am general Naaman, commander of the army of the king or Syria (a little name dropping never hurt). I have heard so much about you. I come with great expectations and a lot of money, too. I am prepared to pay whatever you request for your services.”
While he was practicing the front door opens, a messenger comes out and tells him, “Go wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh will be restored and you shall be clean.” Whoa, wait a minute. What did he say? I wasn’t ready. Did somebody get the instructions? What kind of a greeting is this? I traipse all the way here from Syria and get met by some messenger and told to go soak my head? In the Jordan?!? We’ve got better rivers than that back home. I’ve got a good mind to declare war on these insolent pipsqueaks all by myself. And he storms off.
His servants, however, seemed to have cooler heads and they reasoned with him, “If he had given you something difficult to do and cost a lot of money, you would have done it. So he gave you something simple. So?
At this point Naaman began to change: his royal connections had gotten him nothing; his reputation and name-dropping had no results. His money had no effect, and the prophet wouldn’t even come out of his house to see him. All of his self-importance, condescension, and superiority had gotten him nowhere. And now he had a really stupid thing to do, strip down in front of all his men and take a bath in a river that only came up to his knees. So he waded out into the river that was muddy and green and smelled of fish. “This,” he thought, “is a sacred river?” But he took a breath and went under. It was cold under the water. He counted the seven times, not daring to hope that this would actually work. But by the seventh time he was clean, skin like a young child. It was smooth, fresh. He was well.
All he had to do was abandon the pretense that who he was or what he was worth could get him what he needed. He only had to strip himself down so that his hurt flesh was exposed for everyone to see and go play in the water like a little boy. At that point God did for him what kings, bags of money, and military victories could never do. God restored his flesh. God created him all over again, and he was made new.
The baptisms that we perform today are an outward sign of that inward renewal, that making new by God. May we all experience that rejuvenation and restoration of our faith and love.
