No Quick Cure

Plaque from an altar retable showing the cleansing of Naaman, gilt bronze and champlevé enamel, crafted in Meuse Valley (Belgium) 1150–60, now in British Museum, London. Photo by Andreas Praefcke, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons. Click the image to link.

Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 26, 2 Kings 5:1-14

So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean. —2 Kings 5:14

Thirty years ago I made a mistake that cost me a broken arm.  I was trimming a branch out of a large oak tree in my front yard, and chose to use a small wooden stepladder to boost me into the branches.  As I stood near the top, the ladder went one way, and I went another.  I broke my fall with the heel of my left hand.  The fall broke the radius bone in my left arm.

I remember lying in the orthopedic wing of the Wichita Clinic, and having a long needle discharge a local anesthetic into my left wrist, a shot that caused a golf-ball-size lump to appear.  After my arm was expertly set into place by the orthopedist, a large cast was built around my arm, and hung into a sling. 

This visit was only the beginning of my challenge.  Thehe weather was warm, and the cast uncomfortable.  As the day approached for the cast to be removed, I imagined what it would be like to shower and to sleep without that cast in the way.  I knew the muscles in my arm would be weak. But soon I would be doing yard work, and catching a ball thrown by my boy.

I was a bit optimistic about the speed of my recovery. When the cast came off, I was surprised that my forearm near my elbow appeared no thicker than my wrist.  My wrist and fingers were stiff with a limited range of motion.  My muscles had atrophied to the point that I was worried about how I would lift my hand. 

If you’ve ever had a broken bone or orthopedic surgery, then you’ve learned, just as I did with my broken arm, that healing depends not just on the doctor’s skill and the removal of a cast.  Healing requires learning to use muscles all over again.  Healing requires physical therapy, and those monotonously repetitive and sometimes painful exercises.  Day after day, and week after week, work is required before you begin to approach the strength and mobility that you had before the injury.[1]

Today’s Hebrew scripture reading presents the story of General Naaman, who learned a lesson about the work required for healing. Unable to find a cure near home, Naaman travels to Samaria to find the prophet of whom his slave has spoken. The text hints that he arrived with an attitude to match his high position. He came with orders from the emperor, thinking power would provide him a cure.  He brought a treasure chest of riches, thinking wealth would buy him a cure. 

Carrying such expectations, Naaman was surprised to find himself outside the prophet’s house speaking not with Elisha himself, but with one of his servants. Naaman felt he was disrespected when Elisha didn’t meet with him, but rather said through a  servant: “Go wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored, and you shall be clean.” Naaman went away angry about the prophet who wouldn’t meet him face to face, but instead sent him to swim in a foreign river.

At that moment, Naaman nearly missed God’s solution. He was like the man in an old preacher’s story who gets caught in a flood and goes up on the roof, where he intends to wait for God to rescue him.  Person after person comes by in a rowboat, offering to take him to safety.  “No, thanks,” he says.  “I know that God is going to save me.”  Finally the waters rise over him, and he dies.  When he gets to heaven, he complains, “I prayed and prayed, but you didn’t save me.”  God answers, “Look, I sent four rowboats, but you didn’t get into one of them.”[2]

Naaman’s reaction isn’t unusual.  When I went to my first physical therapy session, I was given a little rubber ball to squeeze several times a day. Really, just play with a children’s toy? Isn’t there something better and faster?  Couldn’t the orthopedist come out and wave some magic ultrasound device?

Even when Jesus heals, the process is not always as simple as a fast word or quick touch.  In the gospel reading from Mark, Jesus’ healing touch comes after a meeting that moves him either to pity or to anger, depending on the ancient text you choose to read.  It comes with a stern warning not to reveal the source of healing.  It comes with the post-procedure care instructions for the leper to show himself to a priest and make an offering.  Perhaps Jesus was thinking that the cure would not be complete without the proper cleansing ritual that would allow the man to re-enter society.

In the practice of ministry, we pastors occasionally are visited by someone looking for a quick cure. They’re in a struggle with a spouse, a child, a co-worker, or a fellow committee member, and they are hoping that by telling a pastor what they want fixed, the pastor will fix their problem. As the story unfolds, it’s possible to see the problem isn’t just the other person. And, if the pastor is feeling courageous that day, they might even suggest that the person examine their own role in the problem. Perhaps they should look for a solution not by changing what is outside personal control but by changing the attitudes and behaviors that are within personal control. When people hear something like that from me, they might go away from the conversation thinking, “The pastor wasn’t helpful at all.  I thought that for me  surely he would correct my husband or wife, my son or daughter, my friend, my opponent in a strategic direction or political action – I thought surely for me, he would make the problem go away.”

In this and other areas of life, the things required for healing are not always glamorous, entertaining, easy, or quick, but often they are surprisingly simple.  Those who face heart disease or cancer would like someone to wave a magic wand, and cure the problem.  Instead, restored health means a process that involves careful diagnosis and planning, regular treatment, proper diet, exercise, and meditation. Our church faces the challenges of a changing world. We would like someone to wave a wand and cure all ills associated with the pandemic, including those that might be faced by our church officer nominating committee and our pledge campaign committee during this fall season. Instead, it will take careful reflection, discussion and consensus building, and the work of many to help us address these challenges over time.

When there is no quick cure, moving through a prescribed process toward a solution may feel boring. A timed task list for the Nominating Committee, or the Stewardship Committee, or with whatever group we’re serving might feel tedious to you. We are tempted to skip the steps in the process. I imagine that’s how Naaman felt.  

It’s how I imagine Naaman felt.  Seven trips out to the river.  Seven times moving through the swift current, stubbing toes on rocks.  Seven times going into and under the cold water.  But that seventh time coming out of the water – that experience of healing – makes it all worthwhile. May it be so for us.

NOTES

[1] Approaching the Naaman story through an experience of orthopedic healing was suggested to me by Lenora Tubbs Tisdale, “When Healing Comes,” “Pulpit Resource” 16 February 2003, p. 29 ff.

[2] Barbara Crafton, “Living by the Word,”  “The Christian Century” 8 February 2003, p. 18.

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