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Sixth Sunday After Epiphany                                                                                                                                                                     February 12, 2012 

2 Kings 5:1-14; 1 Corinthians 9:24-27; Mark 1:40-45; Psalm 30

Truth, justice and the American way.  All will be well if only we seek truth and justice and the American form of democracy prevails throughout the world. All of us know that it isn’t really so, even though we may want it to be. Justice is too often what we think is fair – even if others don’t share that same sense of fairness.  Justice too often is mixed up with vengeance or revenge. “Someone once said, ‘Life after all is fair. Ultimately it breaks everybody’s hearts.”[1] We are in a place and time when, as a president said at his Inaugural, “it is time to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.”[2] It is our turn to pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off and continue the work of building God’s realm here on earth.

For many, these are hard times. It might be because the husband of a friend lost his job and with it the family’s sole source of income. Someone else is, in the words of the hospital staff, engaged in “active dying.” And another friend’s life has gone skidding off the rails of her life in rather  spectacular and harmful ways. Life is fair- it breaks all of our hearts at different times and at different places and in different ways.  So where is God in these situations – and in the situations many of you live with? What do you hold on to when life gets tough? Why isn’t Jesus – or even Elisha – here now to heal our loved ones?

The lessons today contrast strength and weakness. Illness and health.  Belief and unbelief. They also remind us that healing is ultimately God’s work. Healing and curing are two different things even though we often use the words as synonyms. Naaman was a great man and in high favor with the king. This passage reminds us that even the great and the favored get sick. And, leprosy was an especially difficult illness. If you were an Israelite with leprosy, you were cut off from society because you were considered ritually unclean. That might be why Elisha did not come out to meet Naaman. It might also be to remind us that God works in ways that we do not always understand. Naaman’s pride was hurt because Elisha did not come out to see him – but Elisha did not need to do so for the cure to be effective. Elisha did not need to pander to Naaman’s pride or because Naaman was admittedly a great man in high favor with his master. God is present whether we see God or not.

We are often like Naaman, I suspect. We want fireworks or at least special treatment because of who we are in this world. And when we don’t get the response we think is due us, we tend to pout or to slough it off with an “it doesn’t matter” attitude. It does matter. It matters greatly that we understand who and whose we are. We each have gifts and talents – and sometimes even spectacular gifts and talents. But each of us is just the same when God looks at us. God loves each of us just as we are. We are the ones who have such trouble believing that God loves us, warts and all. That God loves us even as we hide our failings from others and, too often, even from ourselves.

Naaman finally comes to his senses when his servant speaks to him. If what we are asked to do is difficult, we will – generally and for the most part- dust ourselves off and pick ourselves up. We’re important. We’ve been asked to do something difficult. But what if what we’re asked to do is to trust? What if what we’re asked to do we consider to be simple and not difficult? Do we distrust something because it appears to be simple? Have you ever said: that can’t be right; it’s too simple. Or it’s too easy.  And yet, doing what we define as simple can be the most difficult of all.

To be present with someone who is dying. We can’t make it better. We can’t fix everything. Sometimes we are to be silent and to sit with one another through the tough times. And sometimes the tough times don’t get better like Naaman did or the leper that Jesus healed.  Sometimes people we love die. And sometimes people we love do things that we just don’t understand. Part of what we need to learn is to distinguish between what is God’s work and what is ours.

You may remember the scripture about Jesus being asked about paying taxes: to God or to Rome. And Jesus asked for a coin of the realm- a coin that had the image of Caesar on it. Jesus said to give to Caesar what is Caesar’s – and to God what is God’s. The catch is that everything is first and foremost God’s, not ours.  When we are tempted to fret because life isn’t fair, we are called to pray and to remember Jesus’ words:  not my will but yours.  To trust that servant voice that lets us know that there is one who can heal us. To hear that servant voice that reminds us that “pride goes before a fall.” Or, in the inimitable words of T.D. Jakes “get over yourself.” Have you ever failed to listen to the voice of someone you thought couldn’t possibly know what they were talking about because you had the experience or the expertise or the education?   And somehow, looking back at a later point in time, you see that they were right after all. And you kick yourself because you were too prideful to listen.

Earlier I reminded us that healing and curing can be two different things. Curing is the realm of medicine. We seek a cure for illness. Curing essentially and fundamentally deals with our physical bodies. We do depend, and rightly so, on those who have studied medicine- those who are experts. We trust them to figure out what is wrong with us and to prescribe treatment. But sometimes those treatments don’t work. Sometimes doctors and nurses do all they can and the patient dies. Curing is limited – it is human work. Healing is God’s work. And sometimes healing is not the curing of the physical body or mind. Sometimes the healing is our repentance and God’s love and forgiveness.  Sometimes healing is washing in the waters of the Jordan River – apparently not as mighty a river as the Abana and the Pharpar. Sometimes healing doesn’t come with fireworks or an affirmation that we are a great man or woman and held in high favor by those around us. Sometimes healing is a quiet act in obedience to the voice of one we trust.

Naaman was told to go and wash in the Jordan seven times. If he did so, his flesh would be restored and he would be clean. He could be part of society once again. The River Jordan was part of God’s creation. It provided the means to cure his illness and to heal his break with society. Naaman would be restored if only he listened to the servant voice. Naaman would be restored to his community if he followed the words of the prophet Elisha. In the case of the leper that Jesus healed, the man was cured by Jesus stretching out his hand and touching him. The man asked.  Jesus acted. In this case, the washing came after the cure. The man was to show himself to the priest and to offer for his cleansing what Moses had commanded. Ritual cleansing was an important part of the man being restored to his community. The man was truly healed only after he was restored to his community once more. He was healed once he was able to worship God in the manner of the Israelites at that time.

Each week we come to the Table. We partake of bread and wine that represent the body and blood of Jesus. Through these acts we are offered the chance to be healed. We are encouraged to come to the Table for strength as well as for solace. All that we need is here at this Table- the bread and wine of true and ending life with God. Doctors may cure. Jesus heals. Come, all you that are heavy laden – God is waiting for you. God offers forgiveness and redemption. God chooses, like Jesus did in the story of the leper, to make us clean – and we will be made clean if we so choose in response. Will you join me at the Table?