4th Sunday after Pentecost – Proper 9, Year C – Bill Harkins
The Collect of the Day
O God, you have taught us to keep all your commandments by loving you and our neighbor: Grant us the grace of your Holy Spirit, that we may be devoted to you with our whole heart, and united to one another with pure affection; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Lord God Almighty, in whose Name the founders of this country won liberty for themselves and for us, and lit the torch of freedom for nations then unborn: Grant that we and all the people of this land may have grace to maintain our liberties in righteousness and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
The Lesson: 2 Kings 5:1-14
Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the Lord had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy. Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. She said to her mistress, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. And the king of Aram said, “Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel.”
He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy.” When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.”
But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, “Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel.” So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and halted at the entrance of Elisha’s house. Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.” But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, “I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?” He turned and went away in a rage. But his servants approached and said to him, “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, `Wash, and be clean’?” So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.
In the Name of the God of Creation who loves us all…Amen. Good morning, and welcome to Holy Family on this Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, and on a weekend during which we celebrate and give thanks for the gifts of freedom and, as our collect says, Grant that we and all the people of this land may have grace to maintain our liberties in righteousness and peace. Some of these gifts have been won, as Lincoln said, through the “last full measure of devotion” in service. We remember in gratitude all those who have preserved the freedoms we enjoy. And, we give thanks for the movement of the Holy Spirit, our Advocate, who has been promised to us. I especially want to extend warm and heartfelt greetings to each of you in this long green season and as my time among you comes to an end. And, as Lincoln said so well, in his own season of polarization and conflict, “We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.” I found myself thinking of this often while making my way down Peachtree on Friday morning, in the wonderfully diverse sea of humanity that is July 4th in this, my hometown. And this reminder of the bonds of affection we share comes at a time when public health officials are naming what is being called an epidemic of loneliness and polarization in our anxious and over-wired and technology driven society.
Begging the question, what did Lincoln mean by the “better angels of our nature”? How do we know them when we see them, and, come to that, how might we cultivate their influence upon us? Conversely, what are the lesser angels of our nature, and how do we know, as Lincoln implied, how to acknowledge and manage the influence of those voices? Lincoln was appealing to a nation in deep despair and turmoil to pay attention to the shadow side of democracy, and that we all possess, when we come to see that our dark side is concealed or camouflaged in a painful attempt to protect an image that fits the narrative we decide to espouse. Through social conditioning, we come to construct a façade that can keep the substrate of our constructed identity stable so that we can keep feeling safe in the image of ourselves we work so hard to sustain.
I suspect Naaman learned this well in today’s lesson from 2 Kings. It is a cautionary tale about irony, humility, the shadow, and ultimately about grace, and the true source of healing. Often we forget how many times God does good work for the least and lost in the Old Testament. This is a story characterized by irony, because the people who should be in the know, such as the king of Israel, appear clueless. The marginalized, those relegated to the status of the other, such as the Israelite servant girl, perceive accurately what God is doing.
Naaman, the central figure of the story, who seeks healing, almost cheats himself out of the very thing he desperately desires because of his arrogance and need for control. And the ironic theme of the text invites us to consider two ideas: both our knowledge of God, and the truth about ourselves…including our shadow sides, and our circumstances, may come from unexpected sources, and God’s providence does not always match our assumptions. Elisha’s response to Naaman may invite us to consider the ways we respond to those who are different, who may present contested narratives to our own, and reminds us of the Biblical instances of those to whom society attributes little intrinsic value nevertheless serving as the heralds of and vessels for God’s work among us. And, if we are willing to do so, we might also ask ourselves why we are so quick to shut down conversations with those who are different from ourselves, and who may challenge our all too easy assumptions based on confirmation bias.
The kings in this passage labor to shore up their lines of defense in facing threats from Syria and Egypt. They build massive armies, form shaky alliances, and pay enormous bribes. But ultimately military might does not win the day. One man alone, Elisha, triumphs over the army of Aram. To read this text today, in our own anxious world, is to recognize the similarities and to recognize that a life that recognizes vulnerability is potentially a life of love and compassion. Well-being, wholeness and healing in relation to the shadow side of arrogance, hubris and the misuse of power are life-long encounters. I don’t know about you, but there is more of Naaman in me than I would prefer, and I need people in my life to remind me of this and hold me accountable. Several years ago, I was scheduled to lead a retreat for a group of 80 Stephen’s ministers in Kansas City, and the website of the host church had a wonderful, if somewhat hyperbolic announcement about my upcoming visit. One of my closest friends said in response to seeing the notice, “Harkins, these people seem to think you are a lot more important than you really are.” And that was exactly what I needed to hear.
Naaman is a great warrior who has had many victories. He has everything in terms of victory and power, but he has leprosy. He is counted unclean and therefore he is in this sense one of the least. One of his servants, who became his wife, is one who knows of the miraculous work of the Sinai prophet Elisha and says to her owner and husband “you should go and see him.” She is an Israelite and considered even lower than he in the eyes of the powerful in Damascus. Naaman’s king writes to the king of Israel for permission. Naaman is a great warrior and so the king is scared! He is worried that the king of Aram and Naaman are plotting to overthrow him. Elisha says, “Calm down and let him come to me.” So Naaman goes with many gifts. He arrives with horses and chariots and in great finery. And here we find one of the great exchanges in biblical history: Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.”
Naaman is outraged. We are told that Naaman became angry and went away, saying, “I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?” He turned and went away in a rage. Again, a servant wife who is accounted nothing comes to Naaman and says, “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” So, he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young child, and he was clean. Naaman offers Elisha gifts, but Elisha says no.
The story is important, sisters and brothers, because on the one hand it is a narrative of religious truth found in Israel over and against its neighbors. Certainly God’s power is present there in the prophet Elisha, in the Israelite woman, and in the river Jordan. But there is still more here for us. This is a story of how the power of God to deliver and heal for the least and for the other is important. Material advantages are not necessarily spiritual advantages. We are all at risk of turning those who are different from us into an “other,” relegated to the margins, ignored and dismissed. Every one of us in probably someone else’s “other” too.
Naaman is harboring expectations and preconceptions about how his healing should take place. He expects special attention from the prophet, and Elisha’s instructions do not match those expectations. The irony of Naaman’s healing is that Elisha’s God does not always match our preconceptions about how healing should occur, and discourages our tendency to see God’s work only in terms of our own desires and expectations. God is clearly working to restore all people, not simply the people of Israel. God is the God of all nations and all people. This is a story about how God is, through the work of Elisha, working in the lives of those who do not count as members of his flock.
Jesus himself was involved in a ministry not so very foreign to the Sinai prophets who ministered to the least and lost, to the lame and leper, all of whom have very little value in the eyes of the religious powers and principalities. Jesus’ work to expand and pronounce goodness and healing for all the least and lost despite of religious or national orientation is essential and rooted deep in a tradition of a God who has forever sought to work on behalf of the least and lost. In his remarkable novel “The Overstory,” Richard Powers reminds us that we are all connected:
“The Greeks had a word, xenia—guest friendship—a command to take care of traveling strangers, to open your door to whoever is out there, because anyone passing by, far from home, might be God. Ovid tells the story of two immortals who came to Earth in disguise to cleanse the sickened world. No one would let them in but one old couple, Baucis and Philemon. And their reward for opening their door to strangers was to live on after death as trees—an oak and a linden—huge and gracious and intertwined. What we care for, we will grow to resemble. And what we resemble will hold us, when we are us no longer. . . .”
Well, this past Friday, in the sea of humanity running down Peachtree, blessed by colleagues on this very hill, I was reminded that I am not the same runner I once was, even as I have grown to resemble that for which I care. This was brought painfully home to me when I looked at a few of my Peachtree Road Race times from 30 and 40 years ago. I recalled the story about the preacher Billy Graham, whom many of us grew up hearing. When Billy Graham was 92 years-old, he was struggling with Parkinson’s disease. In January, a month before his 93rd birthday, leaders in Charlotte, North Carolina invited their favorite son Billy Graham to a luncheon in his honor. Billy initially hesitated to accept the invitation because of his struggles with Parkinson’s disease. But the Charlotte leaders said, ‘We don’t expect a major address. Just come and let us honor you.’ So, he agreed. After wonderful things were said about him, Dr. Graham stepped to the podium, looked at the crowd, and said:
I’m reminded today of Albert Einstein, the great physicist who this month has been honored by Time magazine as the Man of the Century. Einstein was once traveling from Princeton on a train, when the conductor came down the aisle, punching the tickets of every passenger. When he came to Einstein, Einstein reached in his vest pocket. He couldn’t find his ticket, so he reached in his trouser pockets. It wasn’t there. He looked in his briefcase but couldn’t find it. Then he looked in the seat beside him. He still couldn’t find it. “The conductor said, “Dr. Einstein, I know who you are. We all know who you are. I’m sure you bought a ticket. Don’t worry about it.” Einstein nodded appreciatively. The conductor continued down the aisle punching tickets. As he was ready to move to the next car, he turned around and saw the great physicist down on his hands and knees looking under his seat for his ticket. “The conductor rushed back and said, ‘Dr. Einstein, Dr. Einstein, don’t worry, I know who you are…no problem. You don’t need a ticket. I’m sure you bought one.’ Einstein looked at him and said, “Young man, I too, know who I am. What I don’t know is where I’m going.”
Having said that Billy Graham continued, “See the suit I’m wearing? It’s a brand-new suit. My children, and my grandchildren are telling me I’ve gotten a little slovenly in my old age. I used to be a bit more fastidious. So, I went out and bought a new suit for this luncheon and one more occasion. You know what that occasion is? This is the suit in which I’ll be buried. But when you hear I’m dead, I don’t want you to immediately remember the suit I’m wearing. I want you to remember this: “I not only know who I am. I also know where I’m going.” “Life without God,’ he said, “is like an unsharpened pencil – it has no point.”
I thought about this story as I ran down Peachtree on Friday. I paused at my beloved Cathedral, where I was ordained, and served for many years, and I received the blessing of Holy Spirit water from my colleagues. I gave thanks for the counseling center where I see after my patients, and this complicated, wonderful hometown in which I was born on Boulevard so many years ago. Good Friday had happened. And resurrection and healing, a kind of Jordan River baptism, had happened too in that wonderful sea of humanity. I had already received the life of a 70-year-old runner. The difference was Pentecost, a Holy Spirit renewal. I was not sure where I was going, but then, as Wendell Berry said,
“It may be that when we no longer know what to do,
we have come to our real work
and when we no longer know which way to go,
we have begun our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.”
I think Naaman understood this upon rising, dripping from the waters of his baptism in the Jordan…a baptism that foreshadowed Jesus’ baptizing us with water through the Holy Spirit. I’ve never had leprosy, but like Naaman, I too have been guilty of arrogance, and thoughtless efforts to control things not mine to control, usually born of fear and hubris. What we have in common was the shadow side of our unreflective arrogance, keeping us in bondage and stuck in relation to life-giving changes available to us. We all need healing from something. God often works through that which is foreign and strange, and Jesus, like Elisha, makes it clear that the grace of God is extended to everyone. My sisters and brothers in Christ, may the better angels of our nature prevail, and remind us that the love of Jesus, inviting us to join him in his restorative and healing vulnerability, is available to everyone, and we grow to resemble that which for which we care most deeply, and to which we give our hearts. Amen.