2 Kings 5:3 She said to her mistress, “If only my master would present himself to the prophet in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” (NAB)
Living where the family of Jacob lived was not easy. There were different countries and people, different armies and empires. And one of the empires was Syria. And one of the Syrian captains was a man named Naaman. And his army attacked the family of Jacob many times, and during one of their raids, they kidnapped a little girl. And they carried her away from her mother and father as she screamed, “I don’t want to go! Leave me here! Don’t take me!”
She kicked and yelled and thrashed, but no matter what she did, they didn’t listen. And Naaman made her his slave. We don’t know very much about her. We don’t know her name or how old she was when she was taken. We don’t know if she had brothers or sisters. We don’t know if her parents were also kidnapped or if they sobbed over her empty bed for years and years after she was gone.
All we know is that what she endured would shatter anyone’s heart. She knew the depth of human cruelty. And she had to sleep without a sense of safety or control. And even thinking about this is so terrible that it’s hard to continue telling you her story. But I will continue because she had to continue. And she had to learn to clench her jaw so she wouldn’t cry, and put herself to sleep even when she was scared, and give herself a hug when she was lonely.
That was her life. And Naaman was responsible. And knowing what Naaman had done to her, you might be hoping that something terrible is about to happen to him. And something terrible is about to happen. You see, she hadn’t lived in Naaman’s house very long before she noticed something. When she was cleaning his bathroom, she found so many bottles of ointment. When she was washing his laundry, she found bloody clothes. When she was doing his dishes, she heard the doctor’s diagnosis. Naaman had a disease called leprosy.
Leprosy is a sickness that would turn your skin scaly like a fish until it fell off, but it was worse than that. Nobody knew how to cure it. And so it would eventually kill you. And you’d probably die alone because it was contagious, so everyone else was afraid of catching it. And so Naaman tried all the special baths and skin creams. He wore long sleeves so no one could see his bare arms. He hid and tried desperately to find a cure.
Naaman might have been a big, strong, powerful military commander. He might have had hundreds of soldiers and slaves who would do whatever he told them to do whenever he told them to do it. But while Naaman could conquer cities and topple walls, he couldn’t beat this disease. And he felt like a little child who was scared, vulnerable, and all alone.
And the little girl understood how he felt because Naaman had made her feel that way, too. But his suffering did not make her feel happy or like shouting “Taste your own medicine!” Instead, in spite of everything, she felt sorry for the man. And she realized she had two options.
She could watch as Naaman’s body slowly rotted from beneath him. Watch his family fall apart. Watch his wife become a widow. Watch the doctors come with soldiers to carry him away so he wouldn’t make other people sick. Or, she could talk to Naaman’s wife. She could tell her about Elisha, who performed miracles. She could stop one more family from being shattered.
And even though the girl had been hurt and oppressed and had suffered so much because of Naaman and his armies, she also knew that another person’s suffering did not make her suffer any less. It did not make things right. It would not bring back her home or undo months and years of terror. And so, remarkably, the girl decided to help.
She spoke to Naaman’s wife. “Excuse me,” she said, “I know how your husband can be cured. Tell him to go back to my hometown. There is a prophet there who can cure leprosy.”
And while Naaman was excited to learn that there might be a cure, it was also a little complicated, because Naaman had fought battles against the family of Jacob. So even if the prophet could help him, he probably wouldn’t want to. But Naaman was desperate. If he didn’t find a cure soon, it would be too late. And so he left his home to look for the faraway prophet. He brought chariots heaped with gold and treasure, beautiful horses, and trails of servants following behind. He would give it all to Elisha to be clean again.
And when Naaman arrived at Elisha’s door, he called into the home. “Hello there! I have come here to purchase a cure.”
A small, bald little man came out. “Hello,” he said. “I am the prophet’s apprentice. He has told me to tell you to go wash in the Jordan River seven times, and you will be cured. That is all.” And the man disappeared back into the house.
Naaman blinked. That couldn’t be it. The cure was so ridiculous, so obviously a prank. The prophet hadn’t even talked to him or taken any payment. Naaman pounded on the door again, but no one came out. Was this the family of Jacob’s way of making him a fool? Of course it was, they hated him for what he’d done. They were never going to help him. Why would they? He never should have come.
And so Naaman turned around and started the long journey home. That was it, his last chance. He was done for. His servants saw how sad he was, and they tried to comfort him. They tried to give him some hope. “Maybe,” one of them said, “just maybe it’s not a prank. It’s worth a shot. Go and wash in the river. What do you have to lose?”
And Naaman knew the man was right. So what if it was a trick? So what if he looked foolish? So what if he had to undress and show his scaly, ugly, diseased skin to his enemies? It didn’t change anything. He was going to die. He was as humiliated as he ever could be.
Naaman glowered. He sniffed. He took a deep breath and nodded. And then he walked towards the river, taking off his clothes defiantly, showing everyone how hideous and diseased he’d become. Maybe they’d laugh, maybe they’d gasp, maybe they’d cover their eyes, but he didn’t care. He walked into the river and washed. And as he came out of the water, to his surprise, the scales fell off. He was clean again, his skin stiff and rosy like a little child.
And he rushed to thank Elisha. He tried to give the prophet all the gold and horses, but Elisha wouldn’t take them. So Naaman promised to worship God forevermore. And he ran home like a child after school. He laughed as he came through the gates. He was home. He was safe. No one would take him away. And he embraced his wife and cheered, “We are saved!”
And that’s how this story ends. We don’t know if he spoke to the servant girl. We don’t know if he ever realized the remarkable thing she had done for him. We don’t know if he freed her, or thanked her, or if he even ever learned her name. And today, we still don’t know her name. But if we did, we would remember it like we remember Sarah, or Rachel, or Mary. We’d remember the girl whose life was not good, but who did good anyway. The child who showed kindness even when the world was not kind to her. The person who saved her oppressor.
And because of her, we know that people can be gentle, compassionate, and loving even in the most terrible situations. And we can hope that Naaman was true to his word and worshiped God. Because then he’d have learned to see the people around him as equals. Not slaves or foreigners or enemies. And if he was able to do that, then maybe this girl’s kindness was reflected back.
But the fate of the girl does not rely on Naaman’s word or his wealth or his devotion or anyone else. Because the world turns on. More people die of leprosy. More wars are fought. More children are snatched from their homes. More families are shattered. Suffering continues throughout the earth. And despite it, the oppressed write their own stories. They make their own choices, live their own lives, and find their own freedom. And sometimes, they choose to end the cycles of violence. Sometimes, instead of revenge, they choose mercy. They show love instead of hate. They find a way to be gentle and meek. And because of them, there is so much less suffering in this world than there otherwise might have been. And though that might not cure leprosy, it is the greater miracle.
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