Naaman The Syrian Leper

Naaman the Syrian Leper

2 Kings 5:1-14

Karl Evans

Everyone has their own heroes. Men and woman, past and present, offer themselves as models for greatness in life. Some are heroic as they overcome terrible forces stacked against them. Some stand out as ethical and moral lighthouses for the troubled seas of life.

Naaman is one of my own personal heroes. It is not that he was such a brave man. I am sure he was a military genius. He may have been very faithful to the Syrian gods, and even to his own culture.

Rather than these, though, Naaman had a very serious personal problem. His skin was the problem. This was not a race thing, or ethnic. Naaman’s skin problem was the several splotches of unusual colors on his skin.

No one knew what manner of leprosy this was. In fact, no one even guessed these patches of blue and purple and red skin might not even be the disease we now know as Hansen’s Disease. They might have been birthmarks, or psoriasis, or even a skin cancer.

But this did not matter. Society treated all these as the same malady. Any continuing skin blemish was simply leprosy. Any leprosy was the result of any of a few problems.

It could be a simple matter of faithlessness. Perhaps the Syrian god is angry at Naaman for some sin of his ancestors. Naaman may have accidentally knocked over an icon during a visit to a temple in rural Syria.

Naaman’s leprosy may have stemmed from the curse of a witch during a campaign in India, or China, or Greece. So many possibilities. But it really did not matter. Naaman had a disease. He was unclean before the Syrian god.

Naaman was fortunate, though. He was the leader of the Syrian army. We can assume that his skin problems arose late in life. He had probably already found his way to the top of the leadership pyramid, or close to it. At the very least, he was able to hide his blemishes from those around him until he neared the apex of the leadership councils of the Syrians.

If Naaman had shown any weakness, he would have been destroyed. In highly competitive industries, such as military and religious organizations, even a minor weakness is a death sentence. Men who would take lives of royalty without hesitation could surely sink a knife into the heart of a lowly army private who displayed marks of leprosy.

But the commander of the nation’s armies! That was different. Every commander had a guard company around him to protect him from his personal and corporate enemies. These men would risk their own lives to protect their leader from assassination plots and long knives. Even should an assassin make it through the defensive cordon, that assassin would be dead in moments.

But only someone in Naaman’s position could afford that protection. Many men had to gather around him constantly to give him that shield.

But even this armor was not enough for Naaman. This mighty military leader, the man saluted by the whole Syrian army, wanted only one thing desperately. One thing brought him to tears as he climbed into bed every night.

It was his skin. Naaman wanted nothing so much as he wanted rid of those angry red, blue and purple marks on his skin. Oh! To be able to shed his shirt and throw himself into the river with the lowest of his soldiers when they took their bivouac in strange lands. But such was not to be.
So Namaan could only protect himself from the evil-doers of his men.

Now it happened one day that Naaman and his army defeated an army that included mercenaries from many countries. Early in the morning as the dew began to settle on the bodies of slain soldiers, not yet buried, Naaman walked around the battlefield. His walk allowed him to survey the ragged remains of both armies.

Namaan’s own army was in pretty good shape. It had been a vastly superior force on the field. The survivors of the defeated army could only bow or salute as he walked by with his guard. These survivors included a young girl, child bride of one of the now-dead mercenaries.

As Naaman approached her and the body of her young husband, the girl, Qila, did a most unexpected thing. Qila rose from preparing the body of her man for burial. She calmly stepped directly into the path of Naaman and his guards. The armored men, alert for any hostile action from the defeated army, quickly drew their swords and leveled their spears for action against a single, widowed, unarmed fifteen year old Samarian girl.

Naaman’s face showed his puzzlement over her intent, but then he gestured for his troops to lower their weapons. As they did, she cooly walked toward him with her hands open in front of her. She came close, then stopped a few feet away. Naaman spoke first.

"Tell me, girl, why you risk death by stopping me from my walk. You know I need no excuse to have you killed. But you are young and beautiful. I need to bring to my wife a present from this war. That present will be you. You can come to my home, and serve my wife. You will spend your days making my wife more beautiful.

Qila answered slowly, but with certainty in her voice. "Sir, my God knows you are an honorable man. You have been gracious and compassionate in your victories. That is very good. I am content."

So Naaman brought Qila home with him to Damascus as a present for his wife. She immediately began her duties in Naaman’s household. Early in the next morning Qila helped Naaman’s wife with her bath. Presently she spoke openly with her mistress.

"Your husband’s body bears the marks of disease. It is a disease that keeps you both awake at night. This disease even divides you from your family. It is a terrible burden for you."

"Because he is compassionate with God’s people, my God wishes him to be healed of this disease. If only my lord would visit the prophet Elisha who is in Samaria! The great god of the Hebrews will cure my lord of his leprosy!"

Naaman spoke to his king about the girl, asking permission to visit Elisha. Naaman’s king sent the king of Israel appropriate gifts, along with a letter of introduction. The letter told of Naaman’s disease, and the promise of the young Samarian girl.

The king of Israel nearly panicked. "Am I a god, able to give life or death? This mighty king sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? I believe he is trying to start a quarrel with me."
But Elisha heard about the message, and how the king of Israel panicked at being asked to heal in the name of the Lord of the Universe. Elisha asked that Naaman be brought to him.

Naaman came with his horses and his chariots and his armed guard. They rode up in a great charge and wheeled to a stop in front of Naaman’s house. It was only a little distance from the River Jordan. The horses panted and pranced in the hot desert air as Naaman approached the prophet of the Lord. He sat before Elisha and handed the letter to the prophet.

Elisha read the letter from Naaman’s king. He thought briefly, as if in deep prayer. Then he spoke. "Go to the river Jordan. It is very close. It is the river of the Lord. Wash in it seven times, dipping your whole body in it seven times. When you have done this, your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean. You will be clean when you come out of the water of the Lord of Israel."

Naaman jumped to his feet in anger, stomping back to his chariot. "I thought that at least for me he would surely stand and call on the name of the Lord his God. I thought he would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy!"

"We have rivers in Damascus, too, you know. We have the Abana and the Pharpar. Surely these are better than the waters of Israel. They are clean, and fresh. I have bathed before in the great waters of Damascus. Could I not wash in them again, and be clean? Is this country hick prophet saying that his god is stronger than our god? It can not be so!" Naaman stormed with rage at Elisha. His rage shook him so badly the beads of sweat flew from his neck and his nose.

But Naaman had been a very astute man at a good time. He had picked good and wise servants. One of them spoke to Naaman the Syrian hero. "Sir, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? Of course you would have. So all he said to you was, ‘Wash, and be clean!’ "

Well, you should known that Naaman was still pretty smart. He knew when someone was talking sense to him. So Naaman went down to the River Jordan, just a little distance away. He did not have to wait until he came home to Damascus. He only went to the Jordan, a few feet away.

At the Jordan, Naaman dipped himself in the water seven times. This was what Elisha said he must do. Seven times.

Then Naaman’s flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy. He was clean at last.
Naaman did what the Lord asked. He went to the closest water, dipped himself in it seven times, and was healed. It was an act of faith.

What Do You Mean, You Don't Have Time?

What Do You Mean,
Matthew 15:21-28
Karl Evans
2007

Jesus was tired. Every muscle hurt as he trudged the Galilean countryside. The disciples expected a plan from him. They waited in vain for Jesus to share his plans with them. Would he go down into the Decapolis? Would he go north? When did Jesus plan to make his next pilgrimage to Jerusalem, if at all? He was not saying.

The long, hard days of personal ministry were beginning to wear on him. Miles of rough and dusty roads to walk. Even the Roman government, with all its power and money, could not put a decent surface on the roads of the empire. From the British Isles to Pakistan, the great web of highways required constant maintenance.

For Jesus, there was more. His friends and supporters spread the word about him. Soon every villages all over Galilee and the Decapolis expected him to pay them a visit. Unfamiliar beds. All manner of different foods. Insects. Dogs. People. Always more people. Jesus was just tired.

But being tired was not all. Jesus would not have had a problem with that. After all, he was carrying out his mission. The worst was that he was getting frustrated by the unwillingness of people to know and accept his love for them. Many could not believe he had something for them.

Jesus was tired of being rejected. He was sick and tired of being doubted. Tired of being tired. Tired.

Jesus found himself walking the road toward the Mediterranean. He felt the purpose in his heart as he walked. Slowly he was able to move away from others on the road. This was his only means of having some time for himself now.

Walking to the sea coast to visit the resort cities of Tyre and Sidon took about two weeks. It was not such a great distance, from Nazareth to Tyre. Rather, every person he met seemed to want to have some of his time and energy.

Jesus wanted to be in the coastal cities for the sake of the people who lived there. Even more, Jesus needed the rest, the R & R, of the great sea. He might rest on the beaches. He could watch the waves and the tides as he renewed himself by the power of the sea. Even the ships going to and coming from distant lands seem to add an energy to the scene.

It is marvelous what salt spray can do. The roar of even the gentlest surf lapping against the sand or rocks drowns out many sorrows and cares. Sunsets on the ocean on a clear day can cleanse the mind of many things. The finely separating shades of blue and red and orange and gray cleanse the senses of fogginess and doubt.

Jesus even found a little time to go out on the sea in fishing boat with the owner and a few others. For a fisherman from the Sea of Galilee, this was a rare treat. The Mediterranean was even calmer than his home waters. Jesus could relax so well.

Wherever he traveled, Jesus managed to find others to love. Someone always awaited his healing power. This time, Jesus went to the coast to heal himself as well as others. He needed healing in spirit and in mind as well as body.

When Jesus came to the Mediterranean coast to rest, a not-so-strange thing happened. Other people kept coming to him. People who were hurting came to him to be healed. Their timing was always just right. These people who needed healing came to him right at the time Jesus needed healing for his own soul. It never seemed to fail.

One of these was Anya. Anya the Canaanite who came to Jesus with only the last dregs of ethnic hope. Anya the minority in the land of her furthest ancestors came to Jesus.

Anya lived the pitiful life of a native Palestinian. She knew she was looked down upon by the Hebrews themselves. She was abused by the world around herself, but she came to Jesus for healing.

Jesus was tired. Avoiding crowds was not easy, but he needed to be silent. He needed to be relieved of being forced to talk. Those Jews and Gentiles who kept crowding around him made so many demands. They demanded he prove he could solve all their problems by himself. They demanded he heal. They demanded miracles.

Some said he might be the Christ. If he were, he should be able to prove it quickly. Jesus was tired of this game. Everywhere he went, someone else wanted a miracle. Not much of a miracle, mind you. Just make this person wealthy. Make that person win the next election. Make this boy win the big race. Jesus was tired of this.

But Anya needed help. She came to Jesus because she desperately needed help now. Her daughter, Meliq, was a girl possessed.

Meliq was bitter, hostile, struggling against a mother she believed didn't want her. She fought with a mother whom she blamed for Meliq's own Canaanite skin coloring and hair structure. She blamed her mother for this load which hung about her neck like an albatross. This beautiful young woman should have been in her prime. Instead she was bitter about what God had dealt her. The web of anger and resentment aimed at her own mother, at her own blood, made her life a hell.

And Meliq blamed her father, gone though he was. He had disappeared one day with no trace, no direction. It was mostly his fault. He left Meliq and Anya alone.

And Meliq blamed herself. She blamed herself for hurting her own mother. She blamed herself for making life miserable for Anya. The more guilty she felt, the more her hostility came through. When life turned harder for Anya, life became incredibly more difficult for Meliq.

Anya blamed herself for everything. She blamed herself that her husband left. Pressuring him to leave was the last thing she really wanted. He wanted only tenderness and sex and loving support. He was willing to work hard to support Anya and Meliq.

Anya responded to his care and need out of her own bitterness at being trapped. She was trapped forever in a woman's body. Her husband could not stand the rejection of his love, so he left. Now, she was alone and trapped in a Canaanite woman's body.

Anya was trapped as a mother. She was raising a child she wanted and feared and resented. The responsibilities she both demanded and dreaded trapped her. Being an abandoned woman trapped her. Anya was trapped as an abandoned woman in a world that placed no value on such a life.

When her husband left, her real trouble began. Anya began to have trouble with Meliq. Meliq shouldn't have been born. Anya knew it. If only Meliq had not come into this world! Anya's husband could have left easily. No one would have thought too much about it. There would have been far fewer problems.

Anya would not have had to deal with Meliq's hostility and bitter words. Life would have been much easier.

It was a vicious circle. Pressure, hurt, pressure, hurt, pressure, hurt. Anya had to have help from somewhere.

From outside the circle around Jesus, she called in desperation. "Jesus! Jesus!"

Anya began to elbow her way through the crowd to where he stood. "Jesus! Jesus! Master!"

The crowd turned hostile, closing in against her. Some of the Jews tried to keep her from getting ahead of them in their own push to see Jesus. She was Canaanite. This ranked her last in society. She could wait until their needs were met by this prophet.

Jesus struggled within himself. He knew many of this mob did not believe him. These people were only there to heckle or to deride him. There are always those poor souls. They seemed to be without conscience.

Jesus looked through the crowd directly at Anya. His voice was weary. "Anya, right now I don't have time. Right now I've got problems with those of my Israel who think I'm a little crazy. Come back when I have some time. I promise I will try to talk to you later."

By now Anya was close enough to Jesus to look him right in the eye, face to face. She spoke to Jesus as maybe he had never been spoken to before. Her eyes and her voice burned with the fire of desperation as she read him out."

"What do you mean, you don't have time? Don't have the time? If the Son of God does not have the time for me, who does?"

"I need help. I've needed help a long time. All my life. I went to the Temple. I asked for help at the holiest place in the world. The temple priests said they did not have time. They were too busy offering sacrifices to say a prayer for me and my daughter."

"Instead, they said a prayer for the calves they were slaughtering for the sacrifice. They said a prayer for the chickens, and a prayer for the doves. Those jerks said a prayer for the priests, and for more money, but they wouldn't say a prayer for me. They wouldn't say a prayer for my daughter."

Anya didn’t even pause for a breath. "So I went to the synagogue for help. I asked the rabbi who was preaching. I asked the elders who sat listening. I said ‘I need help!’"

"The elders said they were too busy, too busy deciding how many steps they could take on the Sabbath. They said they were busy deciding what kind of theater they could watch."

"They said they were too busy to give a Canaanite woman a cleansing bath of prayer. But they did find time to ask if I had threshed wheat on the Sabbath. They asked if I had brought any money."

"They did ask what I had done wrong. They said I must have done something terribly wrong if my life is so miserable. I have done many things wrong in my life, but could it be the wrongest thing I have done is to believe the people of David might care about me?"

"So I went to the government. I said `I need help.' I said I needed a counselor, and those who speak for God are too busy. Will you help?"

"And the people of the government said `We are too busy. We are too busy writing job descriptions and recruiting counselors to actually provide counseling and care."

"The people of the government said, ‘We are too busy building a pretty chariot which can kill lots of people by running them over without uprooting their flower beds. Too busy giving tax breaks to the wealthy. They must pay the wealthy out of the taxes you pay on your own home. If we don't collect the taxes, how can the government give more money to the wealthy?’"

"They said ‘Go away. We must forget you exist. Pull yourself up by your own bootstraps. If you are poor, you must deserve it. Go and make yourself clean, and then you won't need government aid.'"

Jesus and the others could only stand and listen to the fire in Anya's voice. She chose her cutting words carefully. Then she filled them with the kind of spiritual fire Jesus wished he could match. The pace and passion of her emotions held them to the fire of her voice.

"I went to my neighbors. The people right next door, neighbors for years. They were too busy. They were too busy waiting for Meliq and Anya to die or move out so they could have our home without paying for it."

"Those thieves were not too busy to ask if the house has a good foundation. They were not too busy to make plans to eventually tear the house down and build a duplex, but too busy to help us live now."

"I--I was just about to give up, to find a way to just die. Let everything go. I would have ended everything."

"Then I heard about you. I heard you came to bring Heaven on earth."

"I was glad. I jumped for joy! I had hope because this earth is not the Kingdom of God. It is nothing but hell for me and my daughter. You would help me! I was so happy. So I came."

"Now you say you don't have time for me either! You have to please these people who surround you who are nothing but warts on the skin of life! If you, the Son of God, the Christ, the Son of David, the one sent from Heaven, do not have time for me, then who in Hell does?"

"You don't even see me, do you? Your eyes are fogged over. You're seeing yourself."

"Look at me. I say, look at me! Look in my eyes. Do I exist? Am I real? If I exist, does anyone care?"

A tremor of silence held the crowd. Not even the most uncaring in the crowd could look up.
Finally Jesus looked into her eyes. He did not see her at first, only seeing himself as she had said.

Jesus knew he was caught. He was caught in the very human trap of caring about his own acceptance. Jesus was caught worrying about going to Jerusalem. Jesus was caught wondering what awaited him when he finally would go to Jerusalem.

Jesus knew he was beginning to spend more time caring about trial, more time facing rejection, more time organizing the church than caring for the people around him.

Now he began to find his fire again. Jesus opened himself to her frustrations. "You are right. You have caught me where I cannot escape. You have cast judgement on my love, and on my power, and found it wanting. All right. You are right. You have made me see you."

Jesus continued. "Let me have whatever it is you cannot carry. Let me carry your load. I will do what I can."

And Anya, more gently now, said "Jesus, I have already given you my anger. I don't want it back. I guess you can keep that.

"Jesus, I cannot live with my own impatience. It is a load I cannot bear. And another thing, I have the feeling of being trapped, trapped as a woman. I am trapped as a mother, trapped as a Canaanite. Take this feeling from me. Please Jesus, take it away. Take away the trap of being what I am. I cannot live with it."

Jesus took Anya in his arms, holding her tight. Tears came to four tired brown eyes, tired from seeing each other, and from seeing themselves in each other. While they held, life revealed itself to both.

Jesus said quietly "Meliq will be all right. She is a good child. You and Meliq will have your love for each other. I will carry the load you have given me. At least we will love each other in the way people ought to be loved."

With a last hug, Anya moved away from the crowd on the shore, up the dusty road toward home. Still Jesus' words echoed in her heart, strong words, gentle words, caring and loving words, "You and Meliq will have your love."

As Anya neared her home, she began to make little plans. Plans to clean the house, to spend a little more time with her daughter, to care for someone else. As she walked she wondered how Jesus might actually help her. Well, he could at least just hear her story. That made her wonder about how he worked. It did feel good.

Anya liked the way Jesus said her daughter's name. "Meliq." He gave it such a pleasant note. And when he said "Anya," it was as if he really cared about her.

As she reached out for the latchstring of the door to her tiny home she remembered the love in Jesus’ voice. Jesus had said "Meliq. Meliq. Meliq. Anya. Anya."

Anya liked the way Jesus said the names. As she stepped inside, she was startled by what she remembered now. Anya had not told him either her daughter's or her own name.