February 12, 2012
II Kings 5:1–14
Psalm 30
I Corinthians 9:24–27
Mark 1:40–45
In sometimes surprising and humble ways, by the grace of God healing happens.
II Kings 5:1–14.
The Prophetic reading takes us to the stories of Elisha. Of all the traditions in the Hebrew scriptures, those most like the healing miracles of Jesus are the Elisha stories (e.g., the stories in II Kings 4). The miracles of Moses are always woven into the series of Israel’s trials in the wilderness or the plagues in Egypt, and the miracles of Elijah are mostly subordinated to his reenactment of the sacred history as a prophetic revolution. But with Elisha, there are miracle stories just for the sake of good miracles—or sometimes not so good miracles (e.g., II Kings 2:23–24). The story of Naaman of Damascus comes to us in such a collection of Elisha’s miracles.
The story is well told, with considerable humor at the expense of royal and noble egos. Naaman, top general for the victorious forces of Aram (Syria), has a scaly skin-disease he can’t get rid of (to which the indefinite generic term “leprosy” is applied). An Israelite girl, captured as a slave and working for Naaman’s wife, lets word drop about Elisha the miracle healer in Samaria. Naaman gets his king’s endorsement and goes to Samaria.
The Syrian king’s letter to the King of Israel throws that gentleman into a fit of paranoia. His current overlord demands that he heal leprosy—as if he were God! Hearing of his king’s panic, Elisha sends word to pass the problem on to him. Accordingly, Naaman appears at Elisha’s residence, only to receive a curt message, “Go wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored…” (verse 10, NRSV).
Such treatment is a gross insult to Naaman, and we hear an excellent speech expressing indignation at the affront to his noble dignity and the insult to the fine rivers of Damascus compared to the muddy Jordan. He is also indignant that the prophet did not even come out and make some heavenly signs, as any well-qualified healer should do (verse 11).
When Naaman has left in a fury, his more pragmatic-minded servants say, “If he had asked you to do something really difficult wouldn’t you have done it?” Naaman didn’t get this far without some good sense, so he goes and washes in the Jordan—and is healed.
(Bless the sharp-eared Levites who kept this story going for us!)
Psalm 30.
This psalm is one of the more memorable expressions of personal thanksgiving for delivery from—death, as the psalm puts it. It can be heard in today’s readings as Naaman’s prayer, after he fully recognized the power of the God of Israel (“Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel…”, II Kings 5:15).
A thanksgiving psalm expresses joy and gratitude in the present for release from severe trouble in the past—often the very recent past. Re-living the overwhelming threats just lately faced is often a major part of the now joyful release. So here, “you brought up my soul from Sheol, / restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit” (verse 3, NRSV).
The psalmist’s goal in the time of distress was to convince God that it would be to God’s advantage to save the dying one. “What profit is there in my death,… Will the dust praise you? Will it tell of your faithfulness?” (verse 9). God’s reputation may be involved in this faithful soul’s plight. The speaker must make God urgently aware of the stakes!
This speaker’s language about being in Sheol, in the Pit, probably means the speaker was desperately sick, to the point of being given up for dead. In this situation the speaker had no resort except God, and uttered a desperate hope in the most eloquent language available. The speaker recovered, and now brings thanksgiving offerings to God—which offerings include a superb song in thankful praise of this God who saves.
God has turned the speaker’s mourning into dancing, has replaced a covering of sackcloth with garments of joy (verse 11)! The one who was dead is alive again—and in good health!
I Corinthians 9:24–27.
The Epistle reading is the conclusion to last Sunday’s Epistle selection, but it has a circuitous link with our present theme through its concern with good body conditioning. Paul speaks of his career as an evangelist as parallel to athletic training. As in sports winning is everything, so in evangelizing there should be no limits on—self-discipline in winning souls to the gospel.
Paul speaks as if one could have a personal trainer in evangelizing: “I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air” (verse 26, NRSV). That is, these things are not done without form and technique, and form and technique can be studied, learned, and taught. To carry out his calling, he must be in superb physical condition—or whatever is the equivalent in evangelizing.
We extend his imagery somewhat, but Paul seems to say that through spiritual discipline he achieves the state corresponding to good health and good athletic conditioning in professional sports. What this evangelistic athlete seeks to attain is the post-illness condition of the sick soul that has been restored by the healing power of the Spirit.
Given the context of this passage in the letter to the Corinthians, such spiritual conditioning will have something to do with the correct use of Christian freedom (chapter 8 and 10:23–11:1).
Mark 1:40–45.
The Gospel reading presents us with a much later and much humbler Naaman. The story is given no setting and has no links with the preceding or following episodes. Jesus was last seen traveling around in the country (1:38–39), and if a “leper” is going to make contact with him it would not be in a town. Lepers were segregated from the general population.
Like Naaman, this leper takes the initiative. He comes to Jesus begging and kneeling. His declaration is as adroit an appeal to a higher power as the speaker’s in Psalm 30: “If you choose, you can make me clean.” A statement of belief in Jesus’ power is delicately used as a lever: I know you can do it, if you only would!
It works; Jesus is moved with pity. What’s more, he stretches out his hand to this person with the repulsive skin disease—and he touches him! This is the supreme act both of confidence and of compassion. His words reply to the delicate challenge: “I do choose. Be made clean!” The healing happens.
And then what? Jesus commands the former leper to tell no one about it, but to go to Jerusalem (required by the rituals in Leviticus 14:1–32) and get his non-leper status certified by the priests. Instead, the ex-leper blabs just what happened on all sides and generally increases the pressure on Jesus. Because of his report (the story implies) people stream to Jesus “from every quarter” (verse 45).
What’s with this leper? Which word in Don’t tell anyone! does he not understand? I used to think this is a pretty ungrateful response to his healer. On consideration, I now think the point of the narrative is that the secret can’t really be kept. The good news of the presence of this healing power is going to leak out, ooze around the edges of human ecstasy at a new body, a whole and healthy body.
Perhaps this leper’s response after the cleansing is as adroit as his appeal before: The Lord is going to be known anyway, because the powers of disease, suffering, and possession are cracking, and that news is too good for human breasts to keep inside. It’s time for a Hallelujah on the way to the Jerusalem temple!
