Again,
there is an alternative proposed by a very improbable source and again, Naaman
is desperate enough to follow it. What a comedown. Instead of a modern temple
of healing, he comes to an isolated hut built with twigs and mud. Then as a final
insult to his pride, the prophet does not even come out to greet the general and
to acknowledge his position. Whatever you can say about the prophet Elisha, he
sure would not have been picked for the diplomatic corps. Instead, Elisha sends
word that Naaman is to wash in the local watering hole. Naaman cannot take this.
After all, there were many famous springs and beautiful places to bath in his
own native land and Naaman is a great man capable of shouldering great tasks.
Again,
it is his servants, not his chief advisors, who through calm reasoning and good
sense, beg Naaman to try it. Naaman relents, goes to the watering hole by the
Jordan River, climbs down from his chariot, takes off his clothes and plunges
into the water. He comes out clean.
When
I was a young child, my family used to spend a week at an old wood-framed summer
hotel in Madison Beach, Connecticut. The beach was right in front of the hotel
and because it was on Long Island sound the water was always calm and the beach
gently sloping. Hence the hotel was populated by families with young children
who after a day making sand castles and splashing around went to bed early, and
older folks who wanted to wade or sunbathe while reading paperbacks during the
day and in the evening to sit in the rocking chairs on the long porch taking in
the ocean breeze. One morning I was in the water, standing up to my waist, looking
down at the small colored stones on the bottom. About three feet from me was an
older gentleman. Suddenly my father, who had been watching me from the shade of
our umbrella, ran down to the water and rushed to the old man’s side, grabbing
his arm and leading him out of the water. The man was not in deep water over his
head, but my father had seen the man's look of panic, and while he had merely
momentarily lost his footing, he was on the brink of floundering. The man thanked
my father profusely for saving him, but it was over before anyone else knew it.
They were both on shore before the lifeguard had jumped down from the stand.
I
hasten to add that every summer we read of would-be rescuers who are pulled under
by the one they attempt to rescue and both are drowned. If you don’t know
how to rescue someone it is far better to throw a rope, oar or other floating
object out to within their reach and call for help. This was not such an instance.
If I had really processed what was going on, I could have held out my arm and
steadied the old gentleman. The point is the man didn’t have to call for
the lifeguard. Because another knew what to do and the man accepted assistance,
the lifeguard wasn’t needed. It was no big deal for my father; I suspect
he had forgotten about it within a year. The beach activity went on as before,
and perhaps because I was standing so close, I was the only other person who really
knew what had transpired. Yes it was a small incident, quickly over and forgotten,
except perhaps in the mind of the old man.
Somehow
the story of Newman brought back the memory. Perhaps the lesson I had learned
was that the view in the water could hold as much value as the view from high
up on the lifeguard stand. The perception of an ordinary swimmer or one sitting
under the umbrella can be as sharp as the one of the designated and expert lifeguard.
Like Naaman, we can also learn that little things out of our control can be more
significant at turning points in our lives than big things under our control.
Like Elisha, we can understand that we may unexpectedly find ourselves in a position
to offer a significant and great gift even if we ourselves are not considered
great.
