In today's readings we have two stories about healing that are similar but hundreds of years apart: the story of Jesus healing the man with leprosy, and (years earlier) Elisha the prophet healing Namaan’s leprosy.  I love the healing stories from the Gospels, but they have nothing on those from the Old Testament when it comes to texture and detail.  And since it’s in that detail where much of the meaning of the story lies, I’m going to preach on our story of the healing of Namaan.

There are several people in this passage.  On the side of the Israelites, we have the king of Israel and the prophet Elisha.  On the side of the Arameans, we have the king of Aram and the commander of his army, Namaan, along with Namaan’s wife, some servants, and an Israelite servant girl who was captured in one of the Aramean’s conquests of Israel.

When the story begins, we learn that Namaan, the commander of the Aramean army, has leprosy (a generic term in the Bible for various skin conditions).  His servant girl, whom he had captured in Israel, suggests to Namaan’s wife that he go seek healing from the prophet in Israel.  A sub-theme in this story, as in much of the Bible, is that those (like this girl) with the least amount of power or worldly authority seem to talk the most sense.  They also often have moral authority over the rich and powerful, as this servant girl does here when she sends her captor and enemy to be healed.  Loving your friends and neighbors can be hard enough, but loving those who have done you wrong takes real moral courage.  It maybe reminds us of Jesus’ words, years later, to love not just our friends and neighbors, but our enemies, too.

For his part, though, Namaan doesn’t scoff at this suggestion to seek out help from the enemy - from his servant, no less - but follows her advice.  So he sets out to get permission from his king to go see the prophet of Israel, who happily grants it and sends him on his way with a note and cartload of gifts.  It’s interesting how the fact that Aram and Israel are enemies somehow gets lost here, reminding us how in times of need or vulnerability we’re much less likely to cling to our usual and petty divisions or wish others harm.

So Namaan sets off with a note from his king and a raft of gifts, and heads straight for the King of Israel, who greets him with understandable suspicion.  Upon which Elisha the prophet steps in to assure the king of Israel that he can heal Namaan’s leprosy.

That brings us to the healing itself, which, interestingly, doesn’t turn out like Namaan or much like anyone expects.   Elisha tells Namaan to go wash himself seven times in the Jordan River - that’s it.  Nothing difficult or magical: just go clean yourself off.   Upon which Namaan’s goodwill begins to wear thin and some of those old prejudices creep back in.  Why wash in the Jordan when he could have washed in the superior waters of Damascus in his home country?  Why come all this way only to be told to go wash himself rather than have the holy man perform some impressive gesture over him?  And how could something so simple heal him?   

His servants, again the ones talking sense, tell Namaan to stop with his objections and do what Elisha says.  And so he goes and washes seven times in the Jordan River, and his skin is made clean.

I think that, conventionally, this story is meant to show us that Israel’s God is superior to foreign gods, so much so that foreigners seek out Israel’s God for the kind of healing they can’t get from their own.  It was a story that would have assured its first hearers that, even though other countries may seem richer and more powerful than Israel, Israel’s God is still in charge where it matters.

But I see in this story other, maybe more interesting (if less conventional), lessons.  I think about Namaan being so outraged at the simple solution for his ailment, and it reminds me of how we can have a kind of narcissism about our problems.  This isn’t just any problem.  This is unique and really complicated, just like I’m unique and really complicated.  If the way out turns out to be simple, as it does with Namaan, we almost can’t hear or accept that.  So maybe this story reminds us to put our issues - and ourselves - in perspective.

I also see in this story a reminder that the answers to our well-being might be simpler than we think.  Namaan balked at the simplicity of the solution: basically, go take a bath.  His servants pointed out that he would gladly have done something more difficult; so why not do this?  But somehow simple answers aren’t as attractive, just like we’re less likely to look for our healing and happiness in the simple tasks and gifts before us every day: the mundane, everyday chores of life, a sunny day, food on our table, or the gift of rising out of bed each morning.   

A final lesson I see in this story is that the answer to our well-being might be closer to home than we think.  Namaan came all this way to a country that wasn’t his own, to a river maybe not even as good as his own river, to a holy man who basically tells him to go do the healing himself - probably anyone from home could have told him that.  In other words, he travels all that way to find out that he already had everything he needed, in his rivers, in his homeland, and with his holy people.

I recently read something in a collection of religious thoughts by contemporary poets that made me think of this passage.  It’s a poet quoting another poet, Paul Eluard, who said “There is a better world, but it is in this world.”  There is a better world, but it’s not far off in some distant place to be chased after; it’s closer - and probably easier to find - than you think: in your own life, your own home, with the people and things you already have.  

When they asked him when the kingdom of God was coming, Jesus once told the Pharisees to stop looking around for it, because “in fact, the kingdom of God is within you.”   Had Jesus been there when Namaan was alive, he might have told Namaan the same thing.  We, these many years later, get to hear it - and hopefully, also, to live it.