February 15, 2009

Through the Epiphany season most of our attention has been focused on Jesus as the revelation of God. That’s what “Epiphany” means - God being revealed to us. We get to see just how amazing it is, that our deepest questions - Why is there anything? Why am I here? - actually have an answer, and the answer is wonderful. The answer is that there is a God who is Love at the heart of everything, and that Love has come into human life, and specifically comes into your life and mine.

Today as the weeks of Epiphany celebration draw to a close, we move to a slightly different but related theme. Mission has always been connected to Epiphany - primarily because the revelation of God in Jesus is another way of talking about God’s mission. Mission is about sending, and God sends his Son so that we can see who God really is.

But there’s more to it than that. In today’s Old Testament reading there’s another layer of “sending”. Naaman the Syrian is sent to Israel, to get himself healed. And God sends a prophet, Elisha, to talk to him. That’s a more personal understanding of mission - being sent - though I don’t know if it’s one we apply very clearly to ourselves. Typically when our church has talked about a personal calling to mission we have understood it to mean someone else going somewhere else! But I think the story of Naaman may be a good window on to seeing mission as about us.

Naaman is actually a lot like the people who surround us in our town, our region, our country. He is a powerful person - and in our time, most Canadians are powerful beyond what we realize. He’s cultured, wealthy, influential, and self-confident. Again, that describes a lot of our neighbours, and not just the movers and shakers. And just like for many of us who are otherwise well-off, there’s a fly in Naaman’s ointment. Something is wrong. His illness doesn’t stop him from being a powerful military officer with access to the king. But it does stop him from enjoying his life, with all its power and privilege.

One difference is that Naaman’s problem is clear and well understood. He knows what’s wrong with him, so does everyone else. For people in our neighbourhood, that’s often not the case. What’s wrong with our lives isn’t so obvious; in fact sometimes even we don’t realize there’s a problem. But one thing that isn’t different is that the unease or the dis-ease at the root of our lives is beyond our capacity to fix - just like Naaman. That’s true of us not just as individuals but also as a society. Given all our advantages, we should be one of the happiest most blissful cultures that has ever existed. But we’re not - and the reasons that we’re not are deeply rooted in the way we operate. We can’t fix them without becoming a wholly different kind of people.

One difference is that Naaman’s problem is clear and well understood. He knows what’s wrong with him, so does everyone else. For people in our neighbourhood, that’s often not the case. What’s wrong with our lives isn’t so obvious; in fact sometimes even we don’t realize there’s a problem. But one thing that isn’t different is that the unease or the dis-ease at the root of our lives is beyond our capacity to fix - just like Naaman. That’s true of us not just as individuals but also as a society. Given all our advantages, we should be one of the happiest most blissful cultures that has ever existed. But we’re not - and the reasons that we’re not are deeply rooted in the way we operate. We can’t fix them without becoming a wholly different kind of people.

Christianity in the 21st century also has a parallel in the story of Naaman. As a church, we’re very much in the position of the Israelite court when Naaman arrives, expecting them to be able to heal him. It’s a baffling and even a scary position to be in. Why would anyone think we have all the answers? Is this just a way for secular people to mock people of faith? We may actually prefer that folks leave us alone. And in fact, mostly they do - it’s not very often that the rest of the world turns to people of faith to say, “We want what you’ve got.” In fact it seems to happen only when cultures are really confronted with how badly wrong things have gone for them. It happened in Russia when communism collapsed - suddenly the country began to call on its churches to point the way for them. And it happened in the US and Canada after the disaster at the World Trade Centre - there was a noticeable uptick in church participation as people genuinely started to wrestle with the challenge to their values.

But on an individual level it happens all the time. Someone comes to realize that their life is not all that it should be, and they start to look for a way to recover wholeness. They may actually show up in church; or they may just connect with a person of faith - a person like you or me, in whom they can see a glimpse of what life could be like when it’s put right. Or they may just shout “Help!” Whatever the case, we are left with a challenge to our faith. Will we respond like the king in Naaman’s story, wringing our hands and wondering what to say? Or can we respond like Elisha the prophet, with the conviction that God is in the picture and can meet the needs of anyone who comes looking.

That sounds like an intimidating task, until you realize it doesn’t involve us having all the answers, let alone looking like we do. We don’t have to know how to heal leprosy. We don’t have to know how to transform our culture. We don’t have to know how to tell someone what’s wrong with their life or how it can come right. We just have to know God, - and not close the door on the other person coming to know God as well. Elisha’s answer to Naaman was remarkably simple - too simple in fact; Naaman couldn’t believe that his life would be changed just by swimming in someone else’s river. The ‘answers’ we have for our neighbours will be as simple as that. On the clergy retreat I attended last week, the director told us a story about the Dalai Lama answering a question in this way. At one public appearance, someone asked him, “What should I do to improve my spiritual life?” And the answer was, “Eat less and sleep more!” Keep that answer in reserve in case someone ever asks you that question!

Of course, eating or sleeping or washing in a river doesn’t create a relationship with God. But it can open a door. When Naaman went down to the Jordan, he was making room for the possibility of God. And that’s all it took. When someone looking for a spiritual centre to their life “eats less and sleeps more,” they are making room for the possibility of God. And that’s all it takes.

And that’s what our mission is. God is sending us to our neighbours, - or sometimes sending them to us! - not to solve their problems, not to answer their questions, but to show them what it might be like to open a door. To invite them to swim, not in “our” river, but in God’s river. To hold on to the amazing possibility that we too can be a revelation of God, not because we are anything special in ourselves, but because the God of Love has come into our lives and wants to shine right through them.

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