Naaman is a Syrian army commander, a man of power and influence, but he is suffering from leprosy. Putting his superior rank on display he rides into Israel seeking the prophet Elisha. Word has it that Elisha is a healer. He expects an impressive and personal meeting with Elisha but instead is met by a messenger who conveys the prophet’s instructions. He is to go wash in the Jordan River. He manages to get beyond this affront to his status only when his own servants intervene. His pride is overshadowed by his desperate need for healing. He follows Elisha’s instructions, bathes in the river Jordan, and comes out clean. Now, overwhelming grateful, he offers Elisha extravagant gifts as payment for restoring his health. Elisha refuses. He will not take credit for something God has done. So Naaman asks if he might take a mound of Israeli dirt back with him to Syria. In the culture of the time gods are seen as territorial, so worship must be anchored in the soil of a god’s region. Naaman needs actual dirt from Israel to worship Israel’s God and begin building that relationship.
The ten lepers who approached Jesus in Luke’s Gospel were also desperate. They had no prestigious position to advance, they simply knew Jesus’ reputation as a healer and called out to him as he approached the village. Like Elisha, Jesus didn’t touch any of them. He simply gave them an instruction to show themselves to the priests who held the keys for their re-entry into society. On the way, they were healed.
Why the other nine didn’t return is anyone’s guess. Maybe they ran home to their families, ecstatic, having longed for years to see and hold their loved ones, never imagining it could actually happen. Maybe their thoughts just naturally turned toward re-connecting with their lives, totally forgetting the words from Jesus that preceded their healing. It would be natural, wouldn’t it? After all, they didn’t really connect with Jesus except to follow his instruction. It wasn’t a very personal encounter.
The one who returned, however did feel a connection with Jesus. He was the only one, apparently, who realized what had happened. The leprosy hadn’t simply disappeared on its own. God had entered his life, healing his body and Spirit. And with that demonstration of love and mercy on God’s part came an invitation to respond, to be part of the relationship God had initiated with him. He ran back to Jesus shouting his praises and fell at Jesus’ feet trying to express his wonder, his gratitude, his joy and awe—feelings so immense Luke can only capture them with words like ‘loud voice’ and ‘praise.’
Gratitude like his and Naaman’s are hard to put into words. Naaman tries to give Elisha a gift to express the enormity of his feelings. Since Elisha won’t accept anything at all, Naaman is finally able to realize that the return of his health wasn’t Elisha’s doing. It was the merciful hand of a loving God touching his life. Naaman wants to respond, wants to enter into the relationship God has begun with him. And his way of fostering his side of the relationship will be to offer burnt offerings and sacrifices, which is the tradition of his people. This is the same inexpressible gratitude the Samaritan leper feels toward Jesus. His way is to crumple at Jesus feet, shouting praises to that same God.
Like Naaman, the Samaritan is a ‘foreigner,’ not an Israelite. What interests Luke and the author of Kings, is that the God of Israel, the God of Jesus, is not an exclusive God. This God is not territorial and doesn’t seem to care whether people are part of one social group or another. Naaman and the Samaritan recognize God’s relational invitation and respond by saying ‘yes.’ Yes, I see your hand in my life. Yes, I feel your loving touch. One lays pride aside, the other falls to his knees. Both say ‘here I am, and I know you are here with me.’
We live in a very secular culture at a time in history when our entire worldview is changing dramatically. The more we know about the universe, its billions and billions of galaxies, the more our belief systems are straining to incorporate information we can barely begin to grasp. What we believe about God has been undergoing changes for decades as our ancient patriarchal mindset and earth-centered theologies are hammered by new facts and emerging sensitivities. We are asking questions never before imagined as we extend our view beyond earth to the cosmos. As a culture we have put our faith in science, in modern medicine, and medical technology. Often we don’t see science and all it brings as God’s tool, God’s entry point in our lives, as we continue our quest for healing like our ancestors did before us. Naaman was able to recognize that it wasn’t water that cured him of his disease, nor was it Elisha. And it wasn’t Jesus’ instruction that healed 10 lepers. It was the God both Elisha and Jesus served that brought healing to the afflicted. And it is that same God that continues reaching into our lives with love today.
We don’t have the cultural context that supports us in seeing God’s hand in our lives, or that encourages us to look for that hand. Our culture discourages that deeper soul seeing in favor of frenetic activity, terse sound bites, superficial observation and even more superficial communication. Our focus is trained on external goals, as were Naaman’s and perhaps the nine other lepers who failed to recognize the depth of God’s desire to reach them in the midst of their suffering so as to find a way into their lives. God is always looking for ways to be part of our lives.
If we step back from the busy-ness of our many daily activities, if we make time to slow down enough to relax and to wonder, to allow our senses to become more open and receptive to the natural world around us we might begin to see and feel the hand of God moving in our own lives. We will know that hand by its surprises, by images, persons and ideas that pop up seemingly out of nowhere to inspire and delight us. We will know that hand by its transformative power to bring wholeness out of chaos or to point us in a direction we would have missed if we had been running too fast to notice that tiny nudge appearing out of nowhere.
Our God is a God of relationship—in ancient times and in our own. As Paul tells us in his letter to Timothy, God is faithful—always with us in everything. It is up to us to recognize the relational invitation and respond with open minds and hearts: to kneel down in gratitude; to open the core of our being; and to pray. In prayer we open ourselves up to the presence of a loving God. We let our hearts reach out to the merciful embrace of one who holds us in life and death, and then we come to rest in those loving arms.
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