There are many reasons why people put off going to the
Doctor’s. “I’ll probably be better by the time I get an appointment,” you might
say hopefully. Or there are the questions the doctor is going to ask about how
you’ve been looking after yourself: just how much exercise do you take? – have
you given up smoking yet? – what’s your diet
like? – how many units of alcohol are
you consuming every week?... and many more potentially embarrassing questions -
and you wonder just what you’re going
to have to have to admit to.
And then there’s the fear
of what the doctor is actually going to do to you. Which bits is he/she going to prod and feel? What am I going to have to reveal of an anatomy of which I’m less
than proud? And after all that, what
might the treatment involve? – alright if it’s a course of antibiotics, but
what about hospital referrals, long courses of drug therapy, operations, the
bits which might be unlovely but which we don’t want to live without?
Now try to think what might be in the mind of Naaman, the commander of the armies of
Aram (modern day Syria) as he looks for a cure for his leprosy. It wasn’t newly
diagnosed,… it was something he seems to have lived with for a long time. He’s
a high-ranking General - despite his illness. He’s learned to
live with the disease – and perhaps we need to be reminded that what the Bible
calls leprosy is not necessarily what we
call leprosy (Hanson’s Disease), but was a catch-all term for a number of skin
disorders. How many doctors had he seen in his own country, how much indignity
had he been put through? – all to no avail, as he continued to suffer a
disfiguring condition which didn’t sit at all well with his public prominence.
Naaman seems to have given up hope of a cure. Why should
he want to put himself through any more prodding or lay himself open to any
more useless courses of treatment? The suggestion that he turns to the prophet
who lives in Israel
is a last chance for him, an alternative therapy of which he seems highly
sceptical.
Naaman goes seeking his cure in the way a General would. He takes his dignity
along with him in a big way: piles of silver, loads of gold, fine clothes and a
letter from his king – this is the reward for the man who can heal him. But a
man who can arrive in this fashion is also a threat. The King of Israel sees
the horses and chariots which accompany Naaman: “Now we’re in trouble,” he
says. “There’s no hope of a cure. The doctors have never been able to do
anything for him. He’s obviously just picking a fight!”
But what Naaman needs is not what kings and generals expect. He goes on to the house of
Elisha the prophet, and finds someone quite different
from the physician to the royal court he might
have expected. He parks his chariots outside Elisha’s house, but the prophet doesn’t even come out.
No fussing over this man so concerned for his dignity! And while Elisha saves
him from the prodding and probing of a doctor, his remedy is not at all what he wants to hear… “Go
and bathe in the River Jordan – and
do it seven times!” Has Naaman really
come all this way to hear this? If Elisha is so great a prophet, he ought
to come out and wave his arms around and cure him! He ought to give heed to
Naaman’s important position! If bathing is involved, it shouldn’t be in that
excuse for a river, the Jordan, but in one of the mightier rivers of Syria – perhaps it’s as though Naaman had come
from Gstaad and been told to take the waters at the Spa in Shotley Bridge!
Anyway, no doubt Naaman has tried all that sort of thing before!
Naaman storms off in a rage… Fortunately his servants calm
him down. “OK,” they say, “he’s asked something pretty pathetic. But you’d have
done it if he’d asked you to do something really difficult. Why not give it a
go?” And they persuade him. He swallows his pride, goes to the river Jordan, washes
in it seven times, and he is healed.
On one level, the message
is that Naaman must recognise that Elisha speaks with the authority of the one
true God. And he does! – when he goes
home, he takes a trunk-load of Israelite earth with him, so he can worship
on the soil of the land promised by God
to the Israelites. But there is another
level, I think. Naaman’s first need is to recognise that he doesn’t have all the answers. The solution
doesn’t lie in being able to throw your weight around. Horses and chariots
might win you battles, but they can’t win you your health. Fine clothes may
cover up disfigurement, but they don’t cure it. And heaps of money in the end
serve only to show you what can’t be
bought.
For Naaman, the need is to find humility: to acknowledge his need; instead of issuing his own
commands, to listen to others. And finally to give up standing on his dignity. He
goes to the river Jordan – and we can imagine the scene: first he has to
unburden himself of the warrior’s armour and weapons; then to take off the fine
clothes of status; and finally, as he stands naked by the river, to reveal what needs to be healed – not
merely a physical condition, but his defensiveness, aggression, his pride.
Naaman cannot find healing as the rich general of mighty
armies, but only as a man. Today’s
Gospel story tells us something more.
Ten lepers come to Jesus for healing.
These men are outcasts, forced to
live outside the village, careful to keep their distance from this religious
teacher. They have no wealth, nothing to offer Jesus. All they can say is “Jesus… have mercy on
us!” These are men who have nothing, except the hope that Jesus will
do something for them – and whatever it is, they cannot buy it, nor can they
expect religion to do anything for them, because their disease has turned them
into people who are to be avoided by the religiously upright.
The strange thing is that Jesus doesn’t say yes or no to their request for healing. He just tells them to go and show
themselves to the priests. It’s their
response of faith that makes them well. St. Luke’s Gospel tells us, “as
they went, they were made clean.” In St. Mark’s version of the story, it’s the
touch of Jesus that heals the leper. For St. Luke, it’s a matter of hearing
what Jesus has to say to us. Do we listen to what he is saying? Are we ready to
hear and to act?
We don’t know what happens to most of the ten lepers who
are healed, but one of them turns back, praising God and throws himself at
Jesus’ feet in thanksgiving. The point that St. Luke’s Gospel makes is that the
other nine don’t go back. And it’s a very modern and relevant point for our
society where gratitude seems to be a scarce commodity. How often we complain,
how rarely we give thanks! If only we were ready to show gratitude more often,
then perhaps we would recognise just how many blessings we have received.
In this short episode, we see what is at the heart of the
Christian Gospel – what we mean when we talk of the Incarnation, of God’s Son taking human flesh. Jesus knows what it
is to be human. He knows what it is to be misunderstood and vulnerable. Jesus comes to us and shares in all that we
are. He brings healing, he transforms lives, and he does it not by throwing
his spiritual weight and power around, but by entering into all that needs to
be healed. Jesus comes as the “wounded healer.” Not someone with the answer to
everything, but one who can bring hope in our suffering because he knows what
it is we suffer – sharing in our
humanity, even in the uncleanness of the leper, he knows what it is that needs to be healed.
Do we know our need of healing – our need of God? Honesty
with ourselves is one of the hardest things to achieve, which is why it is a
good idea to be able to open ourselves up to someone else: a spiritual
director, a member of our family, a friend.... And we can make a start by
acknowledging our vulnerability, as finally Naaman must do. To stop covering up. To see that for
all our ability, wealth and achievements we can’t get it all sorted on our own.
And this may help us help others in their need. So we don’t see them simply as
people who are the authors of their own misfortune, people who deserve what
they’ve got, people we can do without - like the folk of Jesus’ time thought
they could do without the people they categorised as “unclean,” like so many
people of his time despised the Samaritans, like the many prejudices we find
voiced around us and perhaps share ourselves. “People are not loved because they are beautiful; they are beautiful
because they are loved.” It’s love in
action which Jesus brings to those who have less than nothing to offer. And
when we feel unlovely, we do well to learn from this saying – and know that we are loved. And for
that, be thankful…
(see - 2 Kings 5.1-3,7-15b; 2
Timothy 2.8-15; Luke 17.11-19)
.jpg)