The Bible is
full of good stories. They often work at
many levels, and the trick is to find the inspired meaning. The Old Testament
story about Naaman, the Syrian general, is a good case in point [2 Kings 5:1-15]. He’s an important person and he has a serious problem. He thinks it needs a serious solution and is
miffed when he’s told to wash himself in the waters of the Jordan – a puny
stream, by his standards. How human! Of course, millions of people over the last 3
years have had a similar response to recommendations by health officials as to
how to ‘flatten the curve’ of the pandemic.
We were told to stay in place, wash our hands, and wear masks while in
public. Simple. Many complained that those measures were too
simple. We seem to prefer approaches
that are high-tech, expensive, complicated, and sometimes risky over those that
are simple and inexpensive. I’m amazed
at how accurately this ancient Jewish story has put its finger squarely on a
timeless issue. How little human nature
has changed! How insightful the
Scriptures are!
But the
Bible is concerned with something far more important than human psychology. In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus cites this very story
in response to the skepticism He, Himself, encountered in His hometown [Luke
4:24-30]. He does so, focusing not on
Naaman, but on the Israelites of Naaman’s time who, presumably, didn’t think
much of Elisha, just as Jesus’ own neighbors in Nazareth apparently didn’t
think much of Him. Jesus’ point (and
Luke’s) was that what God has to offer is available to anyone and isn’t
confined to a few who, like us Christians, believe we’re on the inside track,
that we’re special. The banquet is open
to anyone willing to sit down with everyone else. If we’re not willing, then it’s not that a
vengeful God excludes us. Rather it’s that
we fail to recognize what we’re being offered. It is we who reject it.
Why do
prophets have to come from out of town? Why
do we not heed the prophetic voices we hear (or perhaps fail to hear) in our
own family/parish/community? Clearly, we
know them too well. To paraphrase
Groucho Marx, if they’re related to us or our social group, they can’t be very
special. Also, they’re probably not
saintly enough to persuade us. But whoever said a prophet had to be saintly? The prophet is just the messenger, the one who
gives us an insight into how God sees things. It’s the message we need to hear and to heed. Perhaps we would be more impressed with a
booming majestic, other-worldly voice – as in the “Wizard of Oz”. Elijah sought just such a voice on Mt. Horeb,
but instead found God in a quiet whisper [1 Kings 19:9-18]. Why do we tend not to recognize God’s voice in
the ordinary? Jesus reveals to us that
God is incarnate in the ordinariness of our world and our daily lives. Lent is a wonderful time for exercising a
certain economy of our presumptions as well as for quiet listening.
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