A TALE OF TWO HEALINGS
A sermon preached by
Rev. Dr. Randle R. (Rick) Mixon
First Baptist Church, Palo Alto, CA
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Texts: 2 Kings 5:1-14; Mark 1:40-45
In this morning’s ancient words, we have the stories of two lepers and two healings - each with its own setting, yet both with the same outcome. Figures from radically different backgrounds find healing through the work of God’s representative on earth.
Naaman is a VIP. He is a war hero, the commander of the Syrian army. He is rich and powerful. He’s at the top of his game. He has the ear of the king. He has everything going for him, except he has leprosy. We do not know the nature of his leprosy, its origin or its onset. We might guess that Naaman would not have risen to his elevated position if he had developed leprosy at an early age. Nor do we know for certain if Syrian culture would have had the same severe judgment on lepers that Israel held. But it is a serious concern for Naaman and he does not know where to turn for help. It is a simple serving girl, a slave captured on a Syrian raid into the northern kingdom of Israel, who has compassion on her captor and suggests that he seek out the prophet of God who is in Israel’s capital city, Samaria.
Though Naaman takes her suggestion, it is clear that he does not understand the true nature of the healing he seeks, nor of the Healer. As a wealthy, powerful man might be expected to do, he loads his caravan with riches and heads south with a letter of introduction to Jehoram, the king of Israel. He will buy his healing.
There is an amusing sidebar in this story involving Jehoram. Naaman arrives in Samaria with a letter from the Syrian king. It reads, “Know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy.” It’s fascinating how power and wealth can isolate folks from reality. On Naaman’s appearance, Jehoram tears his clothes and cries “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look at how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.” Poor old Jehoram is terrified of the consequences that will come from his inevitable failure to cure his general’s leprosy. Luckily, Elisha, tuned in to what is happening, sends Jehoram word to direct Naaman to him. “Let him come to me that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel” – a true prophet of God!
We have one more semi-comic performance from the ranks of the wealthy. Mighty Naaman appears outside Elisha’s door with his retinue of horses, chariots and goods. But rather than meeting his powerful petitioner personally, Elisha sends his servant with instructions for Naaman to dip himself in the River Jordan; this will heal him. Now it’s Naaman’s turn to embarrass the rich and famous. He basically throws a temper tantrum. “Who does that upstart prophet think he is? First, he insults me by sending his servant out to greet me, Naaman, the great hero of Syria and then he tells me all I need to do is dip myself in some local creek. No elaborate ritual, no personal appearance by God or even God’s prophet. I’m incensed. I’m taking my treasures and going home.” Fortunately for him, there are voices among his own servants to calm him and convince him to give Elisha’s cure a chance. After all, what does he have to lose? And, of course, the healing happens, through the power of God.
In the end, Naaman tries to press his presents on Elisha in payment for his cure. Of course, Elisha refuses Naaman’s riches. That is not how God works. God’s healing is freely given. The cure of Naaman’s disease is only part of the healing process. The transformation of Naaman’s attitudes and relationships is as important, if not more so. Naaman returns home a changed man.
The second scene takes place centuries later. Jesus reputation has begun to spread around Galilee. Suddenly, a leper appears before him. “Unclean, unclean,” he wails, as he enters the scene. Any leper was expected to call out this warning to insure that no self-respecting citizen would come near. This man has clearly suffered long. He is a beggar. He has his own attitude, but he has no gifts to give, no riches to pay for healing. This unnamed leper seems to come with skepticism and a note of challenge in his voice. Perhaps this is not the first healer whom he has sought in hopes of finding a cure, only to have those hopes dashed. “If you choose, you can make me clean,” he says, kneeling before Jesus in shame tempered by just a shred of hope.
I wonder if Jesus’ compassion isn’t heightened by the frustration, the past disappointments in the life of this man who has deeply desired a cure but has not found it. How many fake healers and false prophets have offered phony cures from across the road or the room, always keeping their distance, careful not to come close? “I will heal you,” Jesus says. “I want to heal you. My heart goes out to you in your pain and isolation. I want to heal your body and I want to restore you to the community.” It is difficult for us to realize the power of what Jesus does next. As he utters the words, “I do choose. Be made clean,” he reaches out and touches the man, not only putting himself at physical risk but also rendering himself unclean, for the purity codes are clear that any contact with a leper is itself contaminating. But, as Bill Herzog notes, “When Jesus touches a leper, the leper comes clean, but Jesus does not catch the infection. His touch redraws the boundary between clean and unclean, and by the finger of God, Jesus releases the power of the reign of God” (William Herzog, Prophet and Teacher: An Introduction to the Historical Jesus, p. 22.) In typical fashion, Jesus cares little for the ramifications of rules and regulations for himself. It is Jesus’ compassion, along with his deep spiritual connection to God, that drives his ministry.
Curiously, Jesus follows the leper’s healing with a stern direction to go to the authorities to have his healing certified. Here Jesus may be concerned that one who has lived so long as an outcast find his way back into society. He may want to provide distance from the actual physical cure, which might be looked at suspiciously, marking Jesus as one who works outside the cultic practice of the community, therefore marginalizing the man in a new way as a follower of a rogue healer. Tom Wright wonders if Jesus’ command for silence was because “...he might be attracting the wrong kind of notice. People would get angry. He was bypassing the system. And soon the question would be asked: is he a loyal Jew? Can his message about the kingdom of God be real? Can we believe him? Isn’t he dangerous? Hasn’t he gone too far?” (Tom Wright, Mark for Everyone, p. 15.) In another vein, David Bartlett speculates that “The reason for the injunctions to silence after the miracles maybe that, left to themselves, those who hear about the miracles will misinterpret them, turning Jesus into a splendid magician rather than the hidden revelation of God’s will and of the inbreaking kingdom” (David L. Bartlett, What’s Good about this News? p. 39.) Of course, the man can’t keep quiet. Maybe Jesus was stern because he knew the man wouldn’t do as he was told. As a result of the man’s proclamation, Jesus’ reputation grows and he’s overwhelmed with those seeking healing and exorcism
I want to identify this as one tale of two healings, even though they are different stories from different times, even different cultures, because they are both fundamentally about God’s grace, love and compassion for creation. The manifestations of that grace, love and compassion may have significant differences over time, in varied settings, but the net result is the same. A rich and mighty foreigner comes to God’s prophet on God’s turf and God heals. Yes, there is irony in this story in that not only is Naaman not physically touched, the prophet doesn’t even come out to greet him. Obviously, Naaman does not need to be embraced to feel accepted in his community. The lesson for him is one of humility. The humbling is necessary for him even to see that healing is at hand. His exalted expectations and sense of entitlement almost prevent his finding the healing he seeks.
The unnamed leper has no high expectations or sense of entitlement. He comes as a beggar on his knees, hoping against hope that he will not experience one more disappointment, one more rejection. The irony is that, though he desires healing, he has little hope of cure and no expectation that anyone in his right mind would actually touch him in his putrid, decaying condition. His hopelessness and despair almost keep him from finding the healing he seeks.
In each case, God, through Elisha and through Jesus, sees deeply into to the souls of her leprous children and recognizes, in great compassion, that each needs more than the cure of his disease. Each needs to find a measure of real self-acceptance, of authentic self-worth - one by letting go of his pride, one by finding his personal value.
There is a distinction between cure and healing. A person may find his disease cured and never experience the healing that leads to human wholeness. Another may discover that her disease is incurable and still know the healing that makes her life rich and full. Disease and our obsession with its cure usually focus us on ourselves and cause us to lose sight of the valuable ways in which we are interconnected with all of life. Even in a diseased state there is life to live, as difficult as that may be, and we cannot truly live life in isolation. Tom Wright again says that “...Jesus’ healing miracles must be seen clearly as bestowing the gift of shalom, wholeness to those who lacked it, bringing not only physical health, but renewed membership in the people of YHWH” (N.T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God, p. 192.)
This, I think, is what gives common ground to these two seemingly disparate healings, what makes them, in a sense, a single tale. In each case the leper is offered healing, not just cure. Each comes seeking the cure for his disease, which, to be sure, is a terrible, tragic reality in his life. Each is offered so much more. In neither case do we know how the lives of these characters played out. But we know that, along with cure, they were offered compassion, grace, love and the possibility of human wholeness
Naaman discovered humility, that, in the face of power and wealth, grace, love and compassion may be enough. How well did he learn his lesson? We’ll never know. But something wonderful happened in the Jordan’s waters and the mighty Naaman was never the same again.
The unnamed leper immediately disobeyed Jesus’ command. How could he keep from singing? How could he keep from shouting? How could he keep from sharing the miracle of his cure? He certainly found his tongue; did he also find his name? Did he get the healing that was offered? Did he get his certification? Was he embraced by his family, his community? Did he come back and join Jesus’ followers? We may never know. But something wonderful happened on that dusty Galilean road and that leper was never the same again.
Has anyone here ever felt pain, felt sick, felt diseased? Have you felt marginalized, shoved aside, cast out, shunned? Do you know what it’s like to desire desperately the cure, to want more than anything to be disease free, to be so beaten down you’ve completely lost sight of up? Have you heard yourself in the middle of the night cry out, “Precious Lord take my hand, lead me on, let me stand”? Have you filled your days with the chorus, “It’s me, O Lord, standing in the need of prayer”? Do you have any inkling of what it might have been like to be in the skin of that unnamed leper? Or maybe you know more of what it’s like to be in Naaman’s skin, to be on top of the world, only to have that nagging disease that eats away at you, sometimes overtly, sometimes covertly, where no one sees but you and God.
If you know anything at all about disease, of the body or of the soul, you understand the common ground on which Naaman and Mark’s nameless begging leper stand. It feels like awfully shaky ground and it’s not a place you want to stand alone. This is where healing is more than the cure of disease. This is where every single one of us needs an Elisha or a serving girl, a Jesus or a Good Samaritan, a sibling or a parent, a preacher or a deacon, a friend or neighbor to stand with us. In this tale of two healings, our long, rich tradition shows us how vital compassion, love and grace are to the living of our own lives
In the end, God has no hands but ours, we who have known God’s healing touch in our own lives, with which to reach out in healing touch to the wider world, in fact to the whole creation. For the tale of two healings is really the tale of all healing. It is the tale of reaching out to receive our own healing, then, reaching out again to offer healing to a world in need, because we have known that healing and the God who heals. May ours be a community characterized always by compassion, grace and love. Amen.