The Good News Proclaimed
Preached by the Reverend Durrell Watkins at the
Sunshine Cathedral on Sunday, February 15, 2009.
After my break-up with my first boyfriend many moons ago, I turned to my
great-aunt Gladys for comfort. Crying, I told her how I had given my heart to
a scoundrel and I was afraid that with the exception of yours truly, men were
pigs. I expected her to assure me that that there were other fish in the sea,
or that there is good in everyone, or time heals all wounds… some useless
cliché. But instead what she said was, “Honey, the one thing I’ve learned in
life is that anything with a key or a Y chromosome is going to give you
trouble.”
Well, that first beau wasn’t the last one I had to cast out of my daily
life, but as far as I know they all went on to do pretty well and I certainly
ended up with the right one for me.
I actually want to focus on some outcasts today from our first reading:
people who are barely mentioned but who make a huge difference in someone’s
life.
Usually, Naaman is considered the star of this story, but I’m that not that
impressed with him. His trials have somehow not made him mindful of the needs
of others. He isn’t sympathetic to the plight of the oppressed; in fact, he
willingly participates in systems of oppression. He feels entitled to his
privilege and he insists on maintaining it no matter who it hurts. Naaman is
not the most attractive character in this story.
Now, the army in which Naaman is a general had enslaved a young girl from
the Northern Kingdom of Israel. And Naaman is not only part of an army that
will take non-combatants captive, he personally is benefiting from the
practice. He has taken this slave girl and put her into service in his own
home. The writer of this story doesn’t even give this poor girl a name. In
fact, even the woman who enjoys the privileges of her class isn’t named.
Naaman’s wife (as she is known) isn’t a wealthy woman; she is the wife of a
wealthy man.
Naaman could have, perhaps should have used his wealth and position to
bring about change in his society, to help end the practice of slavery, to
help improve the conditions of women in his culture, to at least use his voice
to challenge the inequities. He could have used his privilege to include more
kinds of people, instead of using people to protect his privilege. But he
didn’t; and our unnamed friends this morning show us a more noble way.
The slave-girl speaks to Naaman’s wife. Notice that conversation begins
with the unnamed. Religion and government and tradition have not recognized
these two people as having a voice to raise, and so they must find their own
voice and begin the life-changing conversation amongst themselves. The one
unnamed woman, goes to the other and says, “I know that the man who thinks he
owns us is ill. And I think I know of someone who could help him. There is a
prophet in Samaria who has been known to help people who are ill.”
The message apparently is passed on to Naaman who is certainly willing to
pay a visit to someone who can offer him some relief. And we don’t hear from
the girl again or the wife.
After going through the appropriate diplomatic channels to enter into
Israel, Naaman goes right to Elisha’s house. Elisha sends a messenger with the
prescription for Naaman. Go bathe in the River… immerse yourself 7 times and
you’ll be good as new.”
But Naaman almost misses his miracle. He feels so entitled to his
privilege, his position, his title, that he is furious that Elisha sent a
messenger instead of greeting him in person. I don’t know why Elisha didn’t
come out… maybe he’s shy. Maybe he’s socially awkward. Maybe he’s busy. Maybe
he doesn’t want Naaman to think the miracle is about him… Naaman has to do the
work to get the benefit, and what does it matter who he hears that bit of news
from? Elisha sent word about what Naaman could do to help himself. Elisha
probably thinks he’s done enough. But Naaman needed some bowing and scraping…
well, that’s what he wanted. What he needed was healing, and Elisha had made
sure he had access to that.
Just as the insulted Naaman is about to refuse to take a dip in the muddy
waters of the Jordan, his servants, probably more slaves in fact, come to him
and say, “So you wade around in some muddy water… there’s a chance it might
help, and it couldn’t hurt. Are you really going to let pride keep you from at
least giving healing a chance?”
Finally, Naaman reluctantly goes into the River, immerses himself 7 times
(7 is the numerological symbol for wholeness or perfection in scripture), and
sure enough, he is healed.
Now, look at who made the miracle possible:
- An unnamed slave-girl. Taken from her home, her country, her
culture, forced into service and any number of indignities that aren’t
mentioned in the story; but the one thing that invading armies or oppressors
of any stripe cannot take from her is her view of herself. She has agency.
She has dignity. She has sacred value. She can offer a word of healing even
to the person who doesn’t recognize her humanity. He can rob her of her
liberty, but not of her power to choose to be who she wants to be in any
situation. He can make her be a slave, but he can’t rob her of her
compassion, her humanity, her knowledge that even in the most difficult of
situations she has something to offer. He can’t make her share his low
opinion of her. Because she knows she was more than her circumstances, she
contributes to someone’s healing.
- An unnamed wife. She has no status apart from her husband. She
enjoys some creature comforts, but she is not given respect. She could be
bitter. She could try to make herself feel important by being mean to the
slave-girl. She could say, “how dare you presume to give me advice?!” She
could be angry with her husband and say, “you know, he doesn’t care so much
about me, why should I pass on this information that might help him.” But
she chooses to say, “Even if the world doesn’t know who I am, I get to know…
I can choose to contribute at my own level to the story of life, and I can
choose to be kinder than others have been to me.” She passes the information
on to her husband, and she is part of his healing.
- Elisha, the Samaritan. Samaritans have a different Temple than
the Southern people of Judah. They have different rituals. They’ve been more
willing to mix with other peoples. The racism of their southern neighbors
will eventually brand Samaritans as undesirable. They will endure ethnic and
religious prejudice and we see that in the gospels. But in this story, it is
a Samaritan who sends word to Naaman about how he can get better. He didn’t
do it exactly the way Naaman wanted, but who wants surgery? Who wants chemo?
Who wants to exercise? Who wants to quite smoking, or decrease their sodium
intake, or be stuck with needles… sometimes the healing comes in ways we
didn’t necessarily want. But we give them a try, because why limit the ways
that healing might come? Elisha the Samaritan does what he can, is willing
to do something, and is part of Naaman’s healing.
- The other unnamed servants. They confront Naaman’s classist
attitude. They remind him, “Look, you can be arrogant if you want to, or you
can do what this guy has suggested and see if it works. Arrogance probably
won’t cure you; his method might. The choice is yours.” They let their
compassion over ride their fear… Naaman could have punished them for
speaking up to him, but they didn’t want to see him suffer; so they risked
his wrath to help him help himself. Because they were willing to speak up,
they were part of Naaman’s healing.
After an unnamed slave-girl, an unnamed wife, a Samaritan prophet, and more
unnamed servants each did something, each took a risk, each gave what they
could, each found their own voice, each believed enough in themselves to know
they had something to offer… after each of the outcasts dared to believe that
they were more than outcasts… then a chain reaction occurred that benefited
Naaman. Of course, Naaman had to participate in his miracle, but if all
the others hadn’t done their part, he wouldn’t have done his… and there would
have been no healing.
Have you ever felt like an outcast? Has “love the sinner but hate the sin”
rhetoric (as if judging someone to be a sinner could be loving) left you
feeling hurt, abandoned, unwanted, misunderstood? Has sexism, or racism, or
classism, or homophobia, or poverty, or illness, or an abusive relationship,
or divorce, or mistakes from the past, or the condemnations of family,
religion, or government left you feeling as if you don’t matter, or that you
don’t matter as much as others? I can’t promise that “they” will change their
attitudes or their behavior. I can’t say that the condition will radically
change or the situation will miraculously improve. We always hope, but things
don’t always happen on our timetable. What I can say is that belief is a
choice and we can choose to believe that God believes in us. A church or a
political party or a family or a job may have cast us out, but the
unconditional and all-inclusive love of God will never cast us out. We can
claim our voice, our agency, our sacred value right here and right now and we
can speak up and we can offer our gifts and we can know that our doing what we
can is contributing to a chain reaction that is blessing someone, somewhere
today. And as we know ourselves to be a blessing, we will, of course, feel
blessed ourselves.
God does bless the outcast and uses the outcast to bless the world. This is
the good news. Amen.