Naaman the Syrian
The commander of Syria’s army is a Gentile officer named Naaman. Despite being a great man (gāḏôl îš) and a mighty warrior (gibôr ḥayil), he suffers from a humbling skin disease. We learn that acquired a Jewish girl for his wife while leading a military raid. However, the girl is never called eḇeḏ (H5650), servant or slave, even though she came to be with Naaman’s family through a military action, a typical way of acquiring slaves in the ancient world.
The fact that the girl is not called eḇeḏ stands out, as though the author is deliberately excluding her from the power dynamics of servitude and enslavement that this chapter otherwise focuses on; Naaman is the eḇeḏ of both his king (v.6) and of the prophet Elisha (vv.15,17,18), Gehazi is Elisha’s eḇeḏ (v.25), and a reference to female eḇeḏ (v.26) closes out the chapter. Although the girl calls Naaman “master” (v.3), his eḇeḏím address him as avi (H1), “father” (v.13). Although eḇeḏím is plural, if the spokesperson is addressing Naaman on their collective behalf, then avi could be translated “our father”, as the Common English Bible does.
What all this does is to show how Naaman falls outside the norms expected of an enslaver. Not only do his so-called servants refer to him as family, but the girl herself also offers what should have been privileged information. Why would she speak up about a healer from her native land if she harbored animosity toward Naaman or his wife? Did she see her plight as hopeless, and offer a chance at healing so that she might not become unclean through her leprous captor? Maybe, but given how his servants address him, it is more likely that he is the kind of person his own servants look up to, imperfect but good.
When Naaman sets off for the northern tribes’ capital of Samaria, where the girl says Elisha can be found, he takes with him some money and ten changes of clothes. Israelites afflicted with skin diseases would have been required by Leviticus 13 to burn any article of clothing they had come in contact with, which created an unbearable economic toll. Exile would resolve both the economic impact as well as the existential threat represented by so-called “lepers”, ṣāra (H6879). Banished from human contact, the endless and costly cycle of washing and burning would be moot. As a gentile, Naaman would not have been subject to these requirements, but maybe the girl has advised him on Israelite customs he must observe in order to gain her people’s trust. He brings enough clothes on the seven day journey from Damascus to Samaria to change each morning, with a few in reserve for what he hopes is a short stay.
Before leaving, he also must secure his king’s blessing in writing. Letters written by kings served at least two functions; to scare off small time bandits who didn’t want to earn the ire of powerful enemies, and to vouch for a foreigner before other rulers, like Jehoram of Israel. Monarchs aren’t known for their communication skills, and the Syrian king’s sloppy verbage suggests Jehoram is expected to do the healing rather than Elisha. The king reacts politically, seeing a false flag operation; “Am I God, to kill and to make alive, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Only consider, and see how he is seeking a quarrel with me.” (v.7) Elisha talks Jehoram down from his panic by appealing to his political ambition, “Let him come now to me, that he may know that there is a prophet in Israel.” (v.8) Pacified, Jehoram recedes to the background and the focus centers on the gentile officer and the Israelite healer.
The soldier stands outside, seeking healing. Naaman reeks of war and privilege as he waits beside Elisha’s door. With him are “his horses and chariots” (v.9), luxuries few sojourners can afford and which evoke the threat of military intervention. The prophet does not greet Naaman, but sends a mediator to tell him how to be released from the stigma of being a ṣāra. The problem is not really his skin disease, which inhibits neither his profession nor ability to travel. The problem is what people think of him. The promise of becoming “clean” (v.10) is not hygienic; katharizō (G2511) is a spiritual-emotional release from the burdensome expectations of others. Whether by skin disease or military service, the people of God keep falling into the trap of believing that ‘We the people’ are inalienably right and good and everyone else can (and will) go to hell.
This begs the question of who is really being healed; soldier, or society? Will Naaman never have so much as a pimple for the rest of his life? Unlikely. But will the people remember how the great Elisha treated a perceived enemy? Hopefully. Jesus certainly did.
Being human, Naaman has a few preconceived expectations of his own that need purging. The “mighty warrior” expected Elisha to come outside so he could watch as the prophet waved his hands like a magician; “ebrah k'dabri! You are healed!” But that’s not how God works. It is servants who enable healing for their so-called master, the meek who will care over the mighty. It is Naaman’s servants who remind him who is coming to whom, and how easy it would be to follow Elisha’s orders rather than assume might makes right. At their reassurance, he finally does what the ESV calls “dipping” himself in Israel’s waters. In the Septuagint, with which Jesus and his contemporaries would have been familiar, what the soldier does is baptizō (G907). It is one of just two places it appears in the Greek Old Testament, the other being found in Isaiah 21:4; ho anomia egō baptizō, “I am immersed in sin.”
After the soldier is baptized, “his flesh was restored like the flesh of a qāṭān naʿar” (v.14). In other words, he experiences the same state of innocence represented by the qāṭān naʿărâ (v.2), the little girl who first encouraged him to seek out her people’s prophetic healer. He appears to be filled with a mix of emotions, including gratitude and amazement, but also some kind of trepidation. Instead of heading home he returns to Samaria, a day and a half away, to thank the prophet. But that is not all he does.
Although Naaman acknowledges that “there is no God in all the earth but in Israel” (v.15), he still has to figure out what he is to do about the gods worshiped in Syria. He may be a powerful commander, but he is not the king; like it or not, he is eḇeḏ to a “master” who worships another god. When he returns, disease free, to Syria, his king will expect him to worship beside him in the temple of Rimmon. For Naaman it isn’t a matter of if he will accompany his king, but “when my master goes into the house of Rimmon to worship there, leaning on my arm, and I bow myself in the house of Rimmon… YHWH pardon your servant in this matter.” (v.18, emphasis added) Unperturbed, the prophetic healer of Israel tells the gentile officer who has been baptized in the River Jordan, “Go in peace.” (v.19)
