For my weekly quiet time this week, I studied II Kings 5. Naaman is the captain of the Syrian army, and he is a leper. A little girl who was taken captive from Israel tells Naaman’s wife that he should see the prophet in Samaria, who would “gather (Hebrew root, asaph) him from his leprosy”. Naaman, ever the professional, sends a letter to the king of Israel, who is outraged because he (the king of Israel) is not God and cannot cure Naaman; the king of Israel thinks that Naaman is picking a fight with him by telling him to do something that he cannot do. But Elisha the prophet hears about all this and tells the king of Israel to send Naaman to him.
Naaman and his servants gather outside of Elisha’s house, and Elisha doesn’t even come out to greet Naaman personally. Rather, Elisha sends a servant to Naaman with Elisha’s message: go and dip in the Jordan seven times, and then you’ll become clean. Naaman is upset that Elisha didn’t come out and heal him with a lot of fanfare, and he also wonders why he has to go to the Jordan, when there are much finer rivers in Damascus, Syria. But Naaman’s servants tell him that it’s not a difficult task, so why not try it?
Naaman dips in the Jordan seven times, and his flesh becomes clean, like that of a little boy’s. He offers to pay Elisha with gold, silver, and garments, but Elisha refuses payment. Naaman says that he now realizes that the only God is in Israel, and he decides to take back with him dust from the land of Israel; he also affirms that he will sacrifice to no other God but the LORD.
With one exception. As a prominent figure, he has to take part in a civic ceremony to Rimmon, who is most likely Hadad (see Zechariah 12:11), the storm god and the head of the Syrian pantheon. Hadad could be called “Rimmon” because that word means “pomegranate”, which was a symbol of fertility in parts of the ancient world, on account of its many seeds. As the storm god, Hadad brought the rain that leads to fertility. But Hadad also had to be appeased not to send devastating rain, which could bring about destruction to the land.
In any case, Naaman said that he had to enter the house of Rimmon with the king of Syria and bow, as the king leaned on his hand. Naaman asks that God forgive him for this. And Elisha responds, “Go in peace”. We’re supposedly not supposed to ask God to forgive sins that we are about to do, but Naaman did precisely that!
Naaman is some distance away, when Elisha’s servant, Gehazi, catches up to him. Gehazi says that two prophets have just come to Elisha, and Elisha wants a talent of silver and two changes of clothing for them. Naaman happily gives Gehazi two talents. When Gehazi returns, Elisha knows what Gehazi has done. When Elisha questions Gehazi, Gehazi lies to him. And so the leprosy of Naaman was to cling to Gehazi and to his seed forever.
Here are some thoughts:
1. I’m intrigued by the use of the word asaph for the healing of Naaman’s leprosy (or whatever skin disease it was). The disease is treated as a separate entity from Naaman: he can be gathered from his leprosy, and the leprosy can be moved to somebody else, namely, Gehazi. Christian preachers and commentaries for many ages have likened Naaman’s leprosy to sin. Is sin who we truly are, or is it a separate entity that afflicts us?
I think of two things. At my hairdresser’s appointment, a practitioner of meditation said that meditation is not about us changing, but about us becoming who we truly are. And yesterday, I watched an episode of Highway to Heaven, Season 3. Ned Beatty played a television dad, Bill Cassidy, whose behavior in real life is not like his picture-perfect TV image. As he bosses people around, Mark Gordon remarks, “Boy, I like to have an airplane drop leaflets telling people what this guy’s really like.” And Jonathan replies, “Do you think that’s the real Bill Cassidy?” It turns out that it wasn’t the real him: Bill Cassidy once had love in his heart, but he became hardened and reluctant to love others after his father had passed away.
I’m not sure what the biblical stance on this is. In Genesis 4, God tells Cain that he needs to master sin, which crouches at the door. Cain can separate himself from his sin and master it, the implication appears to be. Yet, the Book of Romans presents conversion as the death of the old man, implying that sin is endemic to our old selves: it is who we are. But Romans 7 has an interesting line: when we sin, even though we don’t really want to do so, then we’re not the ones sinning: rather, the fault lies with the sin within us. And so, here, there’s a distinction between sin and the sinner.
Is sin who we are? Is it a condition? In either perspective, one can say that we aren’t responsible for the wrong that we do. “I’m a sinner by nature—what do you expect?” “I did this, but it’s not who I truly am. Sin is sinning within me!”
Some of this issue may play out on LOST: one can look at human nature and see greed and selfishness. But there is also love. There are nice things that humans do, which is why Jacob figures that they’re not all bad, that they can be improved.
2. Many of the Christians I listened to and read interpreted this chapter in light of salvation by grace through faith alone. Naaman wanted healing, but he needed to become humble. That’s why Elisha snubbed him and told him to wash in the not-so-impressive Jordan, which is comparable to the not-so-impressive crucifixion of Christ: by humbly embracing something that the world scorns (I Corinthians 1:18-29), we become healed spiritually. And Naaman offered to pay Elisha for his healing, but Elisha refused: the healing was freely given, as is salvation.
In the Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, I read roughly the same thing, with some differences. Naaman’s healing in the Jordan was likened to baptism, which isn’t that surprising, since the Septuagint for v 14 says that Naaman baptized himself in the Jordan River. But Elisha’s snubbing of Naaman is explained in a variety of ways. Ephrem the Syrian (fourth century C.E.) says that Elisha was snubbing Naaman because Naaman had killed many Israelites in battle, and also because he, as an Israelite, was forbidden to touch a leper. Caesarius of Arles (fifth-sixth centuries C.E.) likens Elisha to Christ, who did not go out to the Gentiles himself to give them the message of salvation, but rather sent out his servants, the apostles, to communicate that to them.
I like to read what ancient interpreters had to say, to compare and contrast that with how today’s Christians read the Bible. What were the concerns of the ancients? How do they reflect their conceptions of God, and how’s that compare with ours?
I have a question. Let’s assume for a second the similarity between Naaman’s healing and justification by grace through faith alone. Suppose that Naaman simply received his healing and went back to his old ways. He decides not to worship the LORD, and his participation in civil Rimmon worship doesn’t affect his conscience in the least. Does the analogy with salvation break down here? There’s debate about whether Christians who live unholy lives or ditch the faith remain saved. Does healing have to result in a life-change, for that healing to be valid, or to remain?
I suppose God could have returned Naaman’s leprosy had he decided not to change his life. But Naaman didn’t want to return to his old way of doing things. He probably tried a number of things to get healed of his leprosy, and he found them wanting. When he finally obeyed a prophet of God and dipped in the Jordan, he encountered something that worked, and his conclusion was that there’s only one God, the one in Israel.
I think that’s how it is for many Christians. But there are also people who don’t think that Christianity works for them. Others talk about the positive change that has come into their lives through other paths, such as recovery programs, or meditation, or Buddhism.
And, as I read the Intervarsity Bible Background Commentary, I see that other ancient Near Eastern cultures had healing rituals. My guess is that they had to work sometimes, for people to believe in them. But they didn’t help Naaman. Only the LORD did that.
I’m not going anywhere in particular here. These are just some thoughts that I had.
3. The issue of Rimmon. Naaman’s whole dilemma reminds me of something that a couple I know used to fight about. This couple goes to a conservative Armstrongite church, which doesn’t observe Christmas, deeming it to be pagan. Is it permissible for them to go to a Christmas get-together, organized by the man’s grandmother?
The wife says that doing this acknowledges a pagan festival, so it’s wrong; the man believes that he’s not honoring Christmas or paganism in his heart when he goes to this get-together, but he’s just gathering with family.
And this is how some have tried to explain Naaman’s dilemma. When Naaman bows to Rimmon, he’s simply participating in a civic religious ritual that he can’t get out of; but he’s not worshipping Rimmon in his heart, for he believes in the LORD alone. And so God is not displeased when Naaman does this ritual.
But how far does this go? Couldn’t the early Christians have made the same claim when they were pressured to burn incense to Roman gods? “Well, I don’t really believe in them, and God knows that, so why not burn incense to them and preserve my own life?” I suppose so. But maybe there’s a time to take a stand, and a time when a stand can be futile. Perhaps the rightness or wrongness of an act depends upon where the person is. Naaman was a baby Yahwist: he just wanted to worship the LORD, not overthrow the Rimmonite religion in Syria, which would be a futile exercise indeed. But the early Christians lived in a time when they needed to testify against the corrupt world, proclaiming (in N.T. Wright’s words) that “Jesus is Lord, and Caesar isn’t”.
When I look at older commentaries, I see attempts to explain away Naaman’s actions. Medieval Jewish commentator Rashi says that Naaman bowed because the king leaned down on him, making him bow. So, for Rashi, Naaman wasn’t really honoring Rimmon. Yeah, but Naaman is still in the temple of Rimmon! If he’s not participating in the ritual in some manner, then what is he doing there?
Many preachers contend that Elisha realized he wasn’t the Holy Spirit. He didn’t approve of Naaman’s act, nor did he express disapproval. He simply told him to go in peace, and left it to the Holy Spirit to guide him from there. This is how some Christians say we should approach the issue of homosexuality (see Review: “Love is an Orientation” by Andrew Marin): rather than beating homosexuals over the head with how wrong their lifestyle is, why not simply love them, encourage them to come to God, and let God guide them from there?
These are my weekly quiet time ramblings for the week!