February 15 Sermon

Yesterday, I was doing what I always do on Saturday afternoon, I was at my favorite coffee shop, Farley's, writing my sermon. (I refer to it as my East Office.) I had finished my first cup of tea and still hadn't written a word. I had, however, updated my facebook status twice. (If you don't know what facebook is, I'll explain it some other time.) Anyway my first status was "Brian is working on his sermon. How does this happen every week?" Then I decided to change it and here is why. Something even more pressing came up, something more important to share with all my facebook friends, something that the world needed to know about. The couple sitting next to me, who I think might have been on a coffee date. I think it was probably going pretty well although the guy in this guy/girl couple seemed to be more into himself than he was into her. Anyway, they were talking about how he knew Oliver Stone and how he had done some acting, and that he had done some writing, etc. This strain of conversation led to him saying that Oliver Stone wanted to do a "project" based on Chairman Mao, but that he realized that it was too big, "Lord of the Rings" big--his words. The woman chose that time to chime in, chime in with something that wasn't quite on point. She said "I didn't like Lord of the Rings." Even though this was not the point of his topic it was at least interesting enough to him to echo her sentiment about how overrated it was and that had there been a teen category at the Academy Awards then it might have deserved to win that. "Teen category!?!" I was appalled. I loved these movies and I needed to share my outrage not with the total strangers sitting next to me having this absurd conversation but with all my Facebook friends. So my status changed to "Brian can't believe that the people sitting next to him just called Lord of the Rings a teen movie. He might have to slap them." On Facebook people have the ability to respond to what you’ve written. My friend LeAnn responded back "Is that sermon you are writing about loving your neighbor?" To which I shot back, "no but maybe it should be." And this sermon is not about loving one's neighbor, well not exactly.
It is about a leper. A leper named Naaman. Most people whether they have ever been to church, whether they have ever heard a sermon, whether they have ever read the Bible, understands that lepers live in colonies and that calling someone a leper is not a good thing. But Naaman doesn't quite fit into that understanding. Naaman had some status in the community. He had some success. He had been a commander in the army of the King of Aram, a king who is not named. His leadership, and the will of the Lord, had given Aram victory over among others Israel. Remember this story is from the holy text of Israel, this is not an Aramean story--so one has to imagine that there was at least a little bristling going on by the people hearing this story, a story about how the Lord had given victory to the Arameans over the chosen people. They thought the Lord was on their side? But really how else could they explain it, clearly they must have done something wrong and the Lord had turned against them giving victory to their enemies. But despite his status, despite his victories, despite his prestige, Naaman still had leprosy.
I heard an interview this past week with Jose Ramirez, the author of a book called Squint, about his diagnosis with leprosy when he was 20 and his move from his home in Laredo, Texas to a leper colony in Carville, Louisiana. The phrase squint was new to me. It is an architectural term that was used in churches in the Middle Ages. People who were diagnosed with leprosy were banished from the community, given last rites by the church, but then required to attend mass each week through the back of the church and peer through the squint to view the mass. Ramirez also used the phrase though to describe how he was moved to the leprosorium in Carville. He was taken in a hearse, because as the ambulance drivers described it ambulances were for the living hearses were for the dead. He said on the drive from Laredo to Carville the hearse would stop to fill up with gas and people would squint in the window to see this man being driven in a hearse.
This was just in the last century, so we have to imagine that Naaman experienced some of this isolation as well. We don’t know how exactly Naaman felt isolated, but we know that even the servant of his wife noticed. Not his servant, not his wife, but his wife's servant. How much interaction could she have had with Naaman? But the servant noticed and she told her mistress that if only Naaman were with the prophet in Samaria then he would be cured. The prophet of the slave girl’s people. The prophet of the people that Naaman had defeated. We have to believe that Naaman was desperate for healing if he was willing to humble himself in this way, to pay attention to this servant girl, to go to ask for help from a people who he had defeated. How defeated he must have felt. But he might have thought this was his last chance to be whole. Ramirez talks about life in Carville. He talked about how he would go for treatments that would involve all the people there having their legs placed in a bucket of water with aloe in it and then being patted dry and rubbed down with petroleum jelly. He said that he would look at the people seated across from him and see the places on their faces where noses had once been. And he wondered would he eventually lose the use of the legs that were being treated. Would he eventually lose his nose? Would his girl friend, Magdalena, still want to look at his face? Would his isolation never end? Was this what Naaman wondered? Is this why he was so desperate for healing? Did he wonder when his wife would stop looking at him? Did he wonder when people might start averting their gaze when they passed? There must have been some of this desperation. Because he went to the king and the king sent him with gifts to the king of Samaria. The king of Samaria totally misinterprets this act and believes that the king of Aram has used this as an opportunity to justify another attack. And he rips his garments and cries out, " Am I God…?" And everyone hearing this knows the answer is no, but there is someone who knows God, and who knows what to do, Elisha. Elisha is the prophet for the job. When Elisha hears what is going on he sends a message to the king to send Naaman to him. And Naaman hops on his horse, again humbling himself. Why didn't Elisha come to him? This was an insult. He was the mighty Naaman, victor over Israel. But he goes and he gets to the front of Elisha's house and he waits. He had come this far, now Elisha was going to have to come out to him. He would only stoop so low. And what does Elisha do? He sends out a messenger to tell Naaman to go bathe in the Jordan. A messenger? Bathe in the Jordan? There were bigger and greater rivers. Angry that he had wasted his time he turned to head back home. Also angry because he believed he would now live with this disease forever. Soon he would be completely alone. And again it was a messenger who offered a word of advice. He said "You would have done something much harder than this, so why not go bathe in the river." And that is what Naaman did, he bathed in the Jordan river and he was healed. But had it not been for some servants and a foreign prophet the healing might never have come. It reminds me of a song from the musical “Spamelot.” King Arthur is singing a song about how he is all alone, when his assistant Patsy chimes in that he is not alone because Patsy is there. Unfortunately for King Arthur he never gets it and so he is alone, but fortunately for Naaman he gets it, he hears the words of the servants.
Jose Ramirez was eventually cured of his leprosy, but before that he found a community in Carville that adopted him and hoped and prayed for his healing. They did not want the same fate that befell them to befall him. Even in his isolation, even in the back room of the church, even in the hearse he was not alone. Naaman didn't just need healing from his leprosy. The leprosy was merely a physical manifestation of something greater. Naaman's wounds were internal. The sense of entitlement, the arrogance, the pride. This is what isolated him from the very healing he sought. His healing came from the most unexpected places, it came from a servant, it came from an enemy, it came from a tiny foreign river.
We all have wounds that lie deep beneath the skin. That threaten to isolate us from the world around us. That prevent us hearing the offers of help. That prevent us from loving our neighbor. That keeps us stuck in our sad and bitter lives. That keeps us feeling like we are alone. That keeps us from finding healing. That keeps us stuck in our arrogance, in our sense of entitlement, that keeps us in our anger, that keeps us in our loneliness. Our wounds are deep. Let us be open to healing, let us be open to hearing words of hope from unexpected people in unexpected places. Let us be open to each other. Amen.