Abstract
Rich in imagery and possibilities, the ancient story of Naaman, the distinguished Syrian General, is one of inner transformation. The most important journey in life is the inner journey. Though Naaman travelled from the court of the King of Aram to that of the king of Israel, the real journey made by Naaman was made within; in the soul. Salvation is in the soul.
There is a story told of Sarapion the Sindonite who went on pilgrimage to Rome. He had heard of a recluse, a woman, who lived there in a single room. As a traveller, he could not imagine such inactivity. When he met her, Sarapion asked, ‘Why do you just sit here? She replied, ‘I’m not sitting. I’m on a journey.’
Naaman was a great leader, soldier, warrior, and the epitome of worldly success. Intimidating, a man of presence, Naaman gave orders which decided whether people lived or died. In the rabbinic tradition, it is said that in the battle between the kings of Israel, Jehoshaphat and Ahab, against the king of Aram, it was Naaman who found King Ahab and killed him with his bow. Vain and arrogant, Naaman had little concern for those beneath him. Martin Luther King said that some people find it difficult to live without someone to look down on. Naaman looked down on many people. Yet, in this story of power and powerlessness, Naaman was led to a moment of healing, of inner transformation, by unnamed messengers or servants: the unnamed girl from the land of Israel, the messenger of Elisha and his own servants. Unnamed and unknown to history, it was they who led the great commander on the most important journey of his life.
It is important to engage with Scripture imaginatively. Again, in the rabbinic tradition, the Naaman story brings to mind ‘Moab’ from Psalm 60: ‘Moab is my washpot’. ‘Moab’ is a play on the word ‘abi’, meaning ‘my father’. The servants of Naaman curiously call him ‘Father’. Washpot is suggestive of the bathing that Elisha required of Naaman but, more significantly, Moab was the place where God renewed God’s covenant with the Israelites before they entered the Promised Land. Moses died in Moab and was buried there. Is there a hint of resurrection or rebirth?
After the Jewish exile in Babylon, would Jews hear in the story of Naaman the suggestion of Moab, the renewal of the covenant and, in the bathing in the River Jordan, would they see their own resurrection and rebirth? In the healing of Naaman, do they see the ‘resurrection’ of Moses? At first, resurrection seems a strange notion; a concept out of place. However, at the heart of the Naaman story is the emphatic question of the king of Israel: ‘Am I God, to give death or life…?’ The king of Israel was unable to give Naaman life but, following in the footsteps of Elijah, the prophet Elisha was able to do so. Naaman suffered from leprosy. The priest and historian, Josephus, said that, according to Mosaic Law, lepers were forbidden to come into the city, or to live with others; ‘it was as if they were dead persons’. After forty years in the desert, after centuries of oppression at the hand of the Pharaohs, the River Jordan represented the moment when the Hebrew slaves regained their humanity; as they entered the Promised Land, they we reborn. After he has bathed in the river, Naaman had the flesh of a young boy: he was born again.
As we approach this passage and enter into meditation, it is important that we see and feel ourselves to be Naaman, the one who is dead and who, by the word of God, is brought to life. In the ancient world, leprosy (or some form of skin disease) was regarded as the retribution for sins, such as the shedding of blood, taking an oath in vain, incest, arrogance, or envy. In Jewish Midrash, others who suffered from leprosy include Cain, the daughter of Pharaoh, Miriam, and Goliath. As we let ourselves be absorbed into the Scriptural story, as we acknowledge the brokenness in our lives, we enter the flowing, living waters of the Jordan, like Naaman. Hear the words of the prophet, ‘Go, wash in the Jordan’. Through imagination, make the story personal. It is a story of brokenness and renewal.
In Galatians, St Paul wrote, ‘If you sow to your own flesh, you will reap corruption from the flesh; but if you sow to the Spirit, you will reap eternal life from the Spirit.’ The fourth century monk and hermit, Macarius of Egypt, was known as ‘The Lamp of the Desert’; Marcarius said The heart is itself but a small vessel, yet dragons are there, and there are also lions; there are poisonous beasts and all the treasures of evil. There are also rough and uneven roads; there are precipices. But there too is God, the angels, the life and the Kingdom, the light and the apostles, the heavenly cities and the treasures of grace—all things are there.
It is important to notice that it is not the water which makes Naaman clean. Naaman rightly objected that the waters of Abana and Pharpar were just as good as the waters of Israel. The miracle in this story is not the healing qualities of the water but the fact that Naaman entered the water. The change was in him. He had objected to and refused to follow the instruction of the prophet but, after persuasion from his servants, he changed his mind, listened to the word of the prophet, and immersed himself seven times. Seven times was the Levitical requirement, but it was on the inner journey that he discovered God, the nearness of God, and was reborn.
The Victorian minister of Innellan, the blind seer George Matheson, said that the inner journey is a constant wrestling with the ego. He said, ‘Teach me my nothingness in the hour of my prosperity; tell me in my adversity that I am something to Thee’. For Matheson, overcoming the ego was integral to the life of the soul: It is not the want of sight that prevents me from seeing my possibilities; it is something between me and the sun; it is the shadow of myself. If I could only get rid of self-contemplation, there would be revealed within me latent heaps of gold.