Suffering:  Trinity 19: 14.10.07 – 2 Kings 5.1-15b;  2 Tim 2.8-15;  Luke 17.11-19
St. Mary’s. Revd. Canon Alan Winton

One of the greatest challenges to faith is the problem of suffering. In the Western world, the way that we tend to describe the problem is to start from the assumption that everything ought really to be alright: and then we say that if there is a good and powerful God then surely people shouldn’t suffer, things could and should be better than they are. John Humphries has just published a book about his quest for faith in God, and I gather it is the problem of the suffering he has witnessed as a journalist that prevents him making any progress in his search for God.

I realise that this is going to be a rather sweeping claim, but nevertheless I think there is some truth in saying that the Bible tends not to approach the problem in this way. It might, I suppose, be worth looking at the Psalms to see how they often pose the ‘why me’ question in relation to suffering, but they don’t really attempt any systematic answer. And it has been argued that the book of Job, often thought of as a book that tackles the question of suffering, is not really concerned to answer the question of why we suffer, but rather to speak about how we should live in the face of suffering.

As I read the Bible, I find it offers a lot of wisdom and inspiration about how we should live with or in the face of suffering. It’s approach is practical and pragmatic, it often seems concerned to offer us hope and models of how we can move forward, how we can respond to suffering, how we can live hopefully and creatively in the face of suffering, rather than simply getting stuck on the question of why. The question of why is still there, of course, and for some people seems to be a constant stumbling block, but in actual fact, models and advice on how to live in the face of suffering are really of much more use to the one who suffers.
It is with these thoughts in mind that I want to think about the story of Naaman from the second book of Kings.

Talking about this passage probably ought to come with something of a health warning, because the fact that we only read a little section of the text means that we tend to get a rather sanitized picture of what is going on in these Old testament texts. Those who put the lectionary together are driven by a desire to find edifying material for 21st century churchgoers, but if you see this passage in the light of the whole of Elisha’s story, you realise that there are some rather dark themes present.  For example, the passage goes on to describe how Elisha’s servant, Gehazi, acts deceitfully and ends up being given the leprosy from which Naaman had been healed. And other aspects of the story of Elisha show him to be a pretty colourful and occasionally morally ambiguous figure.

In the chapter that follows our reading he is shown commendably holding back the king of Israel from violence against the Arameans, but a few chapters before there is one of the more bizarre stories in the Bible that doesn’t really present him in the best light. On his way to Bethel, a group of small boys ambush him and call out ‘Go away, baldie’ (take a note of that for your next quiz night: which prophet was follicly challenged?). Anyway, Elisha’s response is to curse the boys and this has pretty unpleasant consequences for them: clearly Elisha is not an acceptable model for how to deal with unruly kids.  Now the reason I mention these things is that I think it’s important to try to put passages like the story of Naaman into a wider literary context because there is a danger that by selecting out a small section of the narrative we domesticate the Bible and make it too easily palatable, too much a vehicle for reinforcing the views we already held.

But with those caveats and qualifications, and perhaps a suggestion that you sit down and read the whole of the Elisha story for yourself after lunch, what I want to do now is to look at the story of Naaman from the point of view of three of the main characters, to see whether they have any wisdom or inspiration to offer as we think about the problem of suffering. In their response to the suffering of Naaman, each of these characters offers insights that may be of help to us in the challenges we face.

And the first, the Hebrew slave girl is perhaps the simplest but most important. All we know of her is that she was taken captive from the land of Israel, but it is her suggestion that Elisha might be of help that sets the story rolling. In the face of the suffering of Naaman, this girl shows compassion, and she does so in spite of the fact that Naaman has taken her captive and is not one of her people. She shows a level of compassion that ignores the barriers that might otherwise have got in the way, she doesn’t discriminate but is moved by her master’s suffering. She is also practical in her advice, saying go and do this, and she is hopeful in what she offers, suggesting a way for Naaman to be free from his suffering.

The Hebrew slave girl offers a wonderful model to us of the way that we should engage with the suffering of others, not discriminate and save our compassion only for those who are dear to us, but respond to any who need our care. And we should also be practical and helpful, looking for ways to ease the suffering of others, and as people of faith always doing so with hope.
I know that there are people in this congregation who have often acted in the spirit of this Hebrew slave girl, offering practical, helpful, hopeful care. For example, by driving someone to hospital, often time and time again for lengthy periods of treatment. Offering compassion and help that is practical. It is good to applaud those who take on this role: a simple and straightforward way of faith responding to suffering. It is good to be reminded that sometimes what faith demands of us is simple and achievable.

But the King of Israel models a different response. He receives a letter from the king of Aram asking him to help Naaman and responds by tearing his clothes and suspecting a conspiracy. In response to Naaman’s suffering the king of Israel seems threatened, feels inadequate and is angry. “Am I God, to give death or life?” The request to help Naaman in his suffering has put him on the spot and he feels exposed: a man used to exercising power and authority, a man used to being in control, finds himself unable to do what is asked of him, and clearly doesn’t like the feeling of impotence that comes over him. This is not an uncommon response to suffering, especially for those who like to be in control, who like to do things well, who value their competence in the tasks they take on, who are used to managing situations effectively. In the face of the suffering of another person we are nearly always confronted by something that we can’t control or manage, something beyond our competence, and this can mean that we simply avoid having to deal with them, we keep our distanced. It is a form of fear that sometimes keeps us away from engaging with those who suffer, and this reminds us that courage is one of the virtues we need if we are to help those who are sick or mourning or troubled. The King’s anger was born of fear: it takes courage to go and be with someone when you know there is no easy answer to their troubles, no quick solution you can offer, save perhaps the warmth of your friendship, the strength of your solidarity with them through a difficult time. We have to learn that it is ok when we can’t solve things for others, when we can’t exercise the control we usually manage, because the simple truth is that we may still have something of value to offer even if it is not a complete solution.

And finally there is Naaman himself. Don’t you just love his disappointment when he is asked to go and bathe in the Jordan. First of all he is disappointed because he was expecting a show. He thought that the least he would get would be the prophet waving his arms about and calling upon the Lord. He wanted drama and spiritual razzmatazz: perhaps he wanted to feel important and that his needs were being taken seriously. And then he gets angry because his pride is hurt when he realises that the rivers of his own country are not good enough to cure his troubles. He has to be gently persuaded – and again it is the servants who show the most insight at this point in the story – and he finally accepts his cure through an unexpected route.

When we suffer we often come with expectations of how our needs should be addressed, and Naaman’s story teaches us that the route through our suffering may be unpredictable, not as we expect or hope. Perhaps the most difficult way in which we learn this is when we pray for healing, thinking we know how this should come about. But instead, the healing we need requires us to change in a way that we’re not prepared for; or perhaps the answer to our suffering is not the removal of illness but rather the grace and strength to live with it hopefully. And then perhaps the greatest challenge of all is when our prayer for healing doesn’t lead to a cure but what we are promised instead is the grace to die well, a path to wholeness of a different order.  Naaman wanted the all singing, all dancing cure, but God had a different plan for him. His story teaches us that when we turn to God for help in the face of suffering, we are wise to do so with an open mind, knowing that God loves us and cares for us and that his will and way, although not easily predictable will be for our good.
 
These three brief cameos give us models of how people face up to suffering: within the story of Naaman there is much wisdom and much scope for inspiration.   I truly believe that faith does help us address the question of how we are to live in the face of suffering, and in the light of God’s love there is much cause for hope even through the darkest times.
 
And as for the question of why we suffer, I might be drawn into a philosophical discussion on the subject, but I doubt that anyone can come up with an answer that will satisfy everyone. And I think there is some wisdom in the pragmatic view that when we pose a question that no-one can answer, perhaps we need to ask a different question. Amen.